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dat-fandom-losertown · 4 years ago

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The Drift Between Us

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Chapter 10: Adjustment Period

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Hank Anderson x Connor and Gavin Reed x RK900 (Ritch)

Pacific Rim AU

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 9,149

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Previous <> Masterlist <> Next

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Ritch awkwardly stands in front of Gavin’s door– and his too, at least for for now– with both of his duffle bags set on either side of him. Either Gavin isn’t letting him inside out of spite, which is completely plausible, or he’s not inside because he’s staying at lunch later than usual. Either way, he’s hoping Gavin opens the door before lunch officially ends. He’s not willing to leave his bags out in the hallway just to go get food and he’s getting pretty hungry after this morning’s fight and nerves.

He looks down at the only watch he owns– a fancy one meant to be worn with suits during formal or semi-formal events– which is now on his wrist instead of put away like usual. There’s 20 minutes before lunch ends. Even if he left now, he’d have to eat faster than he’s used to if he wants to finish it before people are kicked out for cleaning purposes. Oh well, he’s missed more meals than he cares to count during his time with Amanda, and he’s definitely gone longer than this without food before. He’ll just eat dinner a bit earlier than usual to keep the hunger away.

“Dick?”

Ritch turns to Gavin and automatically corrects, “Ritchie, not Richard.”

“Yea yea, whatever,” Gavin says, rolling his eyes and waving his hand in dismissal. “What the fuck are you doing just hanging around by my door like a stray cat or something?”

“I was never given the code to the room.”

“And you couldn’t’ve waited in your own room because...?” Gavin stops right in front of him, defiance in his eyes. Ritch is too mentally exhausted to deal with that right now.

“Because technically starting this morning, this is my own room, unfortunately. Did you at least pick up any unmentionables?”

Gavin barks out an unfriendly laugh and turns to the keypad. Ritch commits the code 4629 to memory, having a feeling that Gavin won’t actually give him the code just to make his life harder. Just because he’s able to break into bunkers doesn’t mean he wants to more than what’s absolutely necessary.

“I told you I don’t keep that kind of shit in my room.” He opens the bunker door and lets them both inside before continuing. “Also, why the hell do you call it that?”

“What do you mean?” Ritch asks as he finds a clear space on the floor to set his bags.

“‘Unmentionables’. That makes it sound like you’re some kind of prude, or some good little boy who went to catholic school, I dunno. More likely a nun with that baby face and mean stare.”

Ritch sighs and grumbles, “Where should I put my stuff.”

He just wants to get out of here and head down to the training room to help out a few of the struggling students. He’s just too mentally exhausted after all that’s happened today to properly banter with Gavin right now, and he can tell that bantering is all that Gavin wants at the moment.

Gavin’s face falls for a split second, but he’s back to his aggressive self before Ritch can even comprehend what it could mean.

“Left side of everything– left side of the shelves, left drawers, left closet– and the bottom bunk.” Gavin glares at him with a challenge in his eyes. Ritch doesn’t fall for it because he has no need to argue. That’s the space he took up in his and Connor’s room, so there’s no issue.

“Perfect.” he says sharply, “Thanks.”

He sets his bags down in the middle of the room in preparation to unpack. He gets his studying books (will he even need these anymore?) and puts them on the empty side of the shelf above the metal desk, then pulls out his personal books to put on the shelf above the last.

Most are mainly about the science of how jaegers can safely transfer memories from one person to another without messing either person up, but some are just basic psychology books. The way people think and handle things have fascinated him ever since he first realized how different he and Connor are despite having always spent almost every waking moment with each other, and thus being in the same situations.

Part of him hopes that Connor will do well on his own for the foreseeable future, but another part worries that there will be some kind of issue that could have been prevented if Ritch was there to stop it. Yet another part secretly hopes Connor gets used to being alone quickly so he isn’t as dependent on other people. He has the skills and brains to make it on his own, he just needs to use them instead of panicking or shutting down all the time. Hand-holding and direct interfering has proven less than effective, so maybe a hands off approach will help Connor realize his potential.

“Alright, ground rules,” Gavin suddenly snaps as Ritch finishes putting the last of his books up. “First off, do not keep me up at night or you’ll regret it the next morning. And don’t wake me up early unless it’s an emergency either! Secondly, I get the first shower because the hot water runs out quickly here for some reason and I will make your day hell if I have to take a fucking cold shower. Thirdly, don’t touch my stuff. I don’t fucking care if you’re an OCD freak or something and I’ve left a mess, do. Not. Touch them, or I will break your hand. Got it?”

Ritch nods simply. “As long as you don’t touch my stuff either, then it’s understood. Also, you don’t have to worry about me taking any hot water. I take my showers in the evening, and I prefer them tepid rather than hot.”

Ritch hears the strange offended and concerned sound Gavin makes and looks up from digging his two jaeger figurines out of his bags. He doesn’t say anything, opting to silently raise an eyebrow at the pilot when he doesn’t immediately start talking like he expected. It works.

“Why the fuck do you take cold showers? Have you never felt the glory that is a steaming hot shower before? ‘Cause you told me you were kind of sheltered earlier, but that’s just sad.” Gavin finally asks with what Ritch would call a sarcastic frown.

He looks back down to his bag in an attempt to hide the pained expression he’s undoubtedly making. He doesn’t like reminders of that unfortunate night– dream. Nightmare. Whatever his brain decides that particular event was at any given moment.

“It’s not cold, just tepid. You have your reasons for hating cold water, I have my reasons for hating hot.”

“What the fuck do you know?” Gavin abruptly snarls, sounding every bit like he’s willing to kill Ritch or someone else.

The tone snaps Ritch to attention, but he catches himself and freezes when he take’s in Gavin’s stance. He’s tense in a way that’s more defensive rather than his usual offensive position, and his face reveals equal betrayal and pain as rage. It completely catches Ritch off guard, which explains why he says what he does without trying to hide anything for the first time in a very long while.

“Why do you get to ask me why I hate hot showers when you want to bite my head off for just saying that you have random reasons for hating cold water. Why should I care why you like hot showers when I’m the outlier in this situation, not you?”

Gavin doesn’t respond, he just keeps glaring at him as if that will make him confess knowing something he doesn’t.

Does he have a particularly bad memory/dream/nightmare like Connor and I do? What am I thinking, of course he does. He’s an official jaeger pilot; he likely has plenty of bad memories and experiences to choose from, Ritch thinks, making a note to himself to not bring up cold water or temperatures around Gavin anymore.

Gavin must have finally come to some kind of conclusion, because he takes a deep breath and refocuses on the jaeger model that’s still in Ritch’s hands.

“I thought I told you to leave your robot porn back in your bunker?” he snaps. At least he sounds less like he’s actually going to murder Ritch any moment now.

“Sorry to disappoint, but just because you undoubtedly have explicit content hiding somewhere in here doesn’t mean I have any. Why are you so obsessed on this topic, anyhow?” he says smoothly as he gets up and positions his little models on the shelf. Are the jaeger figurines actually bothering him and he’s using this to somewhat cover it up, or is this another layer of teasing?

People can be incredibly confusing. Especially if their name is Gavin Reed.

“I’m not obsessed with this topic. I’m just noticing that you’re obsessed with jaegers.” Gavin somehow makes climbing onto the top bunk look as lazy as plopping down onto the bottom bunk would. “So I’m just making sure you aren’t gonna be doing anything weird when we’re gonna be forced to drift together later on. I ain’t partnering with a fuckin’ creep.”

“Well, nor will I.” Ritch rolls his eyes as he turns to fully face Gavin. “Actually, because I want a topic change, here are my own ground rules.”

“Uh-uh! You don’t get to–”

“Rule one!” Ritch declares over him, “As I said before, you don’t get to touch my stuff either. I am very particular about where everything goes, and I am a very private person. Rule two, do not wake me up in the morning unless it is an emergency. I have alarms set on my phone– that I place under my pillow so only I can hear it.” he adds when Gavin opens his mouth to retort, “I will always be on time to wherever I or we need to be, so please do not mess with me while I’m sleeping.”

Gavin, surprisingly, just shrugs and says, “Fair enough.” It gives Ritch enough confidence to continue.

“Rule three–”

“There’s fuckin’ more!?–”

“–and the last one I can think of for now. I am very introverted. Sometimes I will want to be left alone just because I am not used to having to constantly entertain someone, so try to not pester me 24/7. Although, considering your first rule, I think we can come to an agreement there as well.”

Gavin doesn’t say anything for a solid minute, just scowling at Ritch from the top bunk. Ritch doesn’t move or break eye contact either. He’s played this game many times with Amanda over the years; breaking now would only be admitting defeat and showing that he isn’t as tough and confident as he is. Breaking eye contact and/or relaxing his tall, solid stance is something Connor would do, and while that seems to work for his twin a lot of the time, Ritch is most definitely not that type of person. He gets his way through confidence and logic rather than constant encouragement and compromise.

“Fine.” Gavin barks. “We have a fuckin’ deal. And apparently the first part of the damned ‘personal schedules’ we’re gonna have to make.”

That throws Ritch off track. “Personal schedules?”

Gavin snorts. “Yea. It’s all bullshit, but all new partners have to do it. I’ve had to do one, like, three or four times now. It’s boring and annoying as hell.” He flops back down on his bed, so Ritch grabs his bag of clothes and starts unpacking them while Gavin continues, “We’ll write down that before breakfast and anything past nine or so are solitary times for our sanity. God, fuck all of this. Seriously.”

“Will therapy appointments and trainee assisting have to go on these personal schedules? And are we turning these in to someone, or are these for private use?” Ritch asks as he puts his small pile of shirts in the locker-closet.

“Yes to your first question. And people use these schedules to make bonding time or scheduled training or some shit, so we gotta turn them in.” Ritch doesn’t need to turn to know he’s probably doing his ever-so-famous scowl and glare. This entire thing is already becoming exhausting and they haven’t even started yet.

The next several minutes are thankfully spent in blissful silence. Ritch isn’t sure what Gavin is hiding up on his top bunk, but he never came down for paper or a writing utensil before presumably starting the schedule, so he must have things stashed up there like Connor stashes his own things. If he’s that serious about his own privacy, then he’ll hopefully take Ritch’s request for privacy more seriously than he originally thought.

“Okay, so I got my part of this fuckery down. You just slap on your schedule on this blank paper, we’ll hand this over. They’ll do a personality thing within the next few days, and then we’ll be back on our own separate ways.”

That makes Ritch perk up from shoving his bags under the bed.

“Why would they separate us so quickly?” he asks as he watches Gavin gracefully jump off his top bunk, dropping two pieces of paper on the bottom bunk before striding to the door.

“Because I’m Gavin mother-fuckin’ Reed, retch.” He opens the door and steps through, but he pauses long enough to grin smugly and add, “No one lasts long with me.”

He shuts the door behind himself with a clang as if to emphasize his point. It leaves Ritch alone with the silence. He picks up the papers and sees that it’s much simpler than he thought. It’s just a normal chart that has 7 columns for each day of the week. Gavin wrote down his activities next to a rough time estimate of when the various things normally get done.

Gavin’s schedule has several chunks of time dedicated to patrolling halls that are all listed as “duty” rather than “free time”. Ritch is surprised he wasn’t just roaming the halls with the sole purpose of finding a way to cause trouble, but it makes more sense how he always manages to randomly run into people and trouble and not get reported or something if that’s his job. He wonders if that would still be Gavin’s job if he became a full-time pilot rather than a back-up one that no one really likes.

“No one lasts long with me” he said? Well, he hasn’t met Ritch when he’s determined to beat a challenge, and “Gavin mother-fuckin’ Reed” just issued one whether he meant to or not. Ritch smirks to himself as he fills out his own rather empty personal schedule, making a vow to himself to stick around the pilot like a stubborn mold just to spite him.

Maybe this will be slightly more fun than he thought, after all. Only time will tell how exhausting it will be in the long run, though.

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Ritch heads to the training room after finishing up his schedule and leaving it on the desk for Gavin to see. He would have dropped it off himself, but Gavin never said where it needed to go during his dramatic exit, so he’ll just let him do it. It’ll be step one in training Gavin; if he doesn’t tell Ritch all of the information, then he’ll have no help finishing what needs to be done. Ritch just hopes that this is a lesson that’s learned quickly and easily because he doesn’t actually like the thought of passing work on to Gavin just because of lack of communication and information.

He’s in the middle of weighing the pros and cons of finding Tina Chen and asking what things he should look out for or work on with Gavin when he hears North arguing about something down the hall. He has no clue what’s being said, but she must be complaining to someone else since she occasionally pauses before starting back up again. He finally gets an idea once he gets close to the training room’s entrance.

“How am I supposed to pilot a jaeger without–”

“You find someone new, just like Ritch and Connor are trying to.” Markus says, his tone implying that that was far from the first time he’s said that.

“Technically, Ritch was given another partner this morning.” Ritch forces himself into the conversation, “Now, what is this about?”

He uses a second to take in their surroundings to make sure they aren’t causing a scene but has to do a double-take. It usually takes more than expected to get him confused and shocked, but finding the room half-empty, despite it being the middle of a training session, sure did the trick.

His emotions must be apparent on his face for once because Simon explains, “The purge happened this morning.”

Ritch focuses his attention on Simon and ignores North as she starts loudly complaining again. Honestly, does she not understand that throwing a hissy fit won’t change anything?

“The purge?” he asks when neither Markus or Simon elaborate.

“Yea,” Markus nods tiredly, “Luther and Chloe kept several people behind after we left for lunch today, and Josh told us it was so they could let them go in relative privacy.”

“Ritchie!–”

“Ritch.” he corrects North sternly, but she ignores him.

“You’re like the teacher’s pet, right?” She continues before he can give his input, “You gotta convince Luther that he’s making a mistake–”

“But he isn’t.” he cuts in. “Josh is too much of a pacifist to make it as a jaeger pilot. Connor and I saw that on the very first day of training. But I think he’d be a fairly good fit for the science department, don’t you think?” He adds when North starts going red with whatever petulant emotion she’s feeling right now.

Simon sounds genuinely intrigued when asking, “Science department?”

“Well, he loves learning about things, and he’s quite smart and quick to pick up on things if the rate he was learning at during the study time of the day is normally how he is.” Markus and Simon nod, North continues pouting. “And he made friends with several people in the science department already, unless those people who brought the alcohol for that party thing were being bribed somehow.”

North harrumphs. “I still need a partner, and there isn’t anyone left I like.”

“Sometimes partnering with someone means you don’t like them at first.” Ritch feels like he’s talking to a child. It certainly shows that she’s always been the youngest of the group. “You just have to adapt and find someone you’re compatible with.” Even as he says this, Ritch doubts she’d be compatible with anyone else in the room. She’s just a little too… herself.

“You literally can’t be compatible with someone if you don’t like them.” North crosses her arms.

“Not necessarily.”

“Yes! Absolutely necessarily!–”

“No,” Ritch scolds her like a child or a pet, “You don’t. If that were the case, I wouldn’t have been told to pair up with Gavin Reed after we got caught fighting in the hallway.”

With how wide the trio’s eyes get, Ritch is almost worried their eyeballs will fall right out of their sockets.

“You seriously got a new partner?!” North exclaims just as Markus asks “You with Gavin Reed?”

The combination of the two end up turning people’s heads, and Simon is doing nothing to de-escalate things like he would normally try to– he seems too in shock to do much else beyond gaping at him– so Ritch tries his best to explain calmly and quietly. He knows it’s more likely to rile them up, but this group has surprised him many times before. He’s hoping they surprise him again because he really doesn’t want to be known as “the trainee stuck with Gavin Reed” by everyone, especially since Gavin is very obviously not the kind of person who like~ to have a lot of attention on him. He just seems like a chaotic mess and chaotic messes usually get attention, whether it’s wanted or not.

“This morning, Gavin and I were doing something, but we ended up… disagreeing is a good way of putting it, and it escalated into an actual fight. Marshal Fowler apparently saw it on security cameras and personally came to pick us up and tell us that our punishment is becoming partners.”

The three gape at him for a couple of seconds before Markus asks, “They can do that? They partnered you up with someone you hate?”

Ritch scans the room again before answering, just to make sure no one is really eavesdropping anymore. Thankfully, people have mostly turned back to whatever they were doing or talking about before. Ritch nods to where the punching bags are and starts walking towards them so the four of them aren’t right in the entryway.

“To be fair, we do have an unusual level of compatibility when it comes to combat, and I don’t actually hate him.” He sits down on the ground and watches North as she starts wrapping her hands. “I’d almost say that I don’t particularly dislike Gavin, since I tend to disregard any rumors I hear about him. So far only a couple have been true; his love for fighting and being annoying and his habit of roaming around. And there are a lot of people who do those same things.”

Simon finally snaps out of his shocked silence. “Wait, what? Haven’t you complained about him picking on you at lunch a couple of times?” Markus nods in agreement.

Ritch shakes his head, slightly curious and confused. “No, I wasn’t complaining, exactly. It was just different. I poke at him as much as he pokes at me– or as I think he’s called it before– I give as good as I get.”

North sputters out a laugh that causes Simon and Markus to glare, but Ritch doesn’t understand.

“Just ignore her,” Markus says before Ritch can ask, “She’s always got her mind in the gutter.”

Ritch tilts his head curiously. “That’s an inappropriate phrase?”

Simon looks at him kindly. He’s definitely been the one who helps him the most when it comes to not understanding things, and he appreciates it.

“It can be for certain people in certain situations. There’s nothing wrong with the way you used it and it makes perfect sense. North is just being an idiot child right now without Josh to balance her out.”

Ritch nods in acknowledgement and understanding, making a mental note of what he’s learned about the phrase like he normally does with new slang. Maybe Connor had the right idea after all; a journal could be good for remembering everything. The human mind can only do and hold so much, after all.

“So,” Markus starts, “What does being partners with Gavin Reed entail, then?”

“So far just alone time in the mornings and nighttime for our sanity. He said we’ll probably be assigned daily bonding or training exercises because we both have large chunks of the day where we don’t do much.”

North pauses her punching long enough to ask, “So, what are some juicy details?”

“What do you mean?” Ritch does not like where this is going.

“Like, what does his room look like? What kind of things does he have for fun.”

If this is what North is always like without Josh, she won’t last much longer than a week. He just shakes his head with a sigh.

“That is private information, and I wouldn’t know anyway. Unlike some people,” he sends her a pointed glare, "I actually respect people’s privacy, and he’ll respect mine.”

“Are you sure about that?” she insists. “You won’t even peek at his stuff when he looks through yours?”

“If he does– and I don’t think he will,” he corrects irritably while getting up, “why would I look through his things when it’d be easier and less uncomfortable for me to just ask to be removed from the room on an account of purposeful neglection of privacy.” He turns and starts walking away.

“Ohhh, you’re leaving? It’s just a coincidence that you’re leaving while on this topic? You sure you’re not going to go check right now?”

Ritch spins to face her so she can get the full extent of his unimpressed glare. It usually works on Connor, and while it seems ineffective on North, she definitely isn’t immune. If she was, he doesn’t know what he’d do to actually get her attention and let her know that he is absolutely done with her for the time being. He almost hopes she gets sent home or told off by Luther as some kind of wake up call for being a complete child right now.

“I’m leaving because you’re being a nosey, whiny asshole because the partner you were barely compatible with was saved from having his mental health take a huge decline from the violence that a jaeger pilot’s life is filled with.” He sharply turns back towards the entryway of the training room. “Not everything is about you, and not everyone has the same views or values as you. That is what you need to learn before you’re even close to ready for finding a new partner, because I promise you that the people in here won’t be nearly as accommodating as Josh was.”

He hears no arguments as he walks out of the room, so he’ll take the liberty to assume that Simon and Markus are silently agreeing with him, and that North is going to check herself at least for today, if not for the next several days. He’s unfortunately not naive enough to think it will last to the end of the week, though.

Just as he steps out of the room, he almost physically runs into Gavin, who’s standing right out of sight from the people inside. Instead of stopping there and revealing Gavin’s poor hiding place, he casually walks past and stops when he, too, is out of sight from the room of trainees. Gavin watches him silently as he does this, then surprises him by not saying anything when Ritch leans against the wall right next to him. That normally gets Gavin at least glaring at him to leave his space, like he did this morning.

“You know,” he murmurs, not wanting the trainees to hear him, “you could at least let people know that your job is to patrol the area. Less people would think you’re just looking for trouble all the time.”

Gavin’s face remains relatively blank as he deadpans, “Where’s the fun in that?”

“Less fun, true, but also less reports on Gavin Reed trying to start trouble, which means less things added to your apparently huge disciplinary folder? Wouldn’t that be worth it?”

Gavin scoffs, then goes quiet. Ritch starts worrying. So far, he’s learned that Gavin isn’t one to stay quiet for long, but Ritch is also the very last person who should do anything relating to emotions. He’s surprised when Gavin starts explaining himself– Gavin Reed from the countless rumors he hears doesn’t like explaining himself to anyone but the marshal.

“The official patrolling thing is a brand new excuse for me wandering around all day, but Luther’s always told me when he’s gonna start telling the failed trainees to go home so I can hover around and control any potential fights between punks who are upset that their partners and friends had to leave.” He turns to Ritch with a contemplative look on his face. “You ever think of picking up patrolling after people finally wake up and realize that we’re not gonna work as a pair?”

“No, because I’d work better with jaegers than with the people. You know I’m not good with people or their emotions, or did you forget that I’m two steps away from being a robot?” he teases. He turns to leave then, not knowing what’s wrong with Gavin right now, but not wanting to accidentally push buttons.

He stops and turns, however, when the pilot makes some kind of choked noise.

Gavin huffs and glares at the far wall. “So why didn’t you tell her what my room is like, Mr. ‘this is now technically my room too’? It’s not like there was anything weird in there.”

“If you heard that, then you heard my reasoning. Besides, with how much you’ve stalked me over the past couple of weeks, you should know by now that I hate drama and gossip.”

Ritch turns and walks away, not having a real plan of where he’s going. If he knew where to turn in their personal schedules, he’d probably go do that, but he’s already far enough away that he can’t just ask Gavin over his shoulder without alerting everyone inside, and he’s not willing to turn and walk back to him just to ask a question as simple as that. One of them will take care of it later.

He suddenly remembers Josh, how he’s the one who was told he wasn’t fit for piloting a jaeger. Even though Josh has told him multiple times that he was only doing it for North, that he wanted to be a teacher or something in the learning or education field, it probably still hits that he’s been let go rather than quitting on his own like he was contemplating doing. Although, at least this way North’s petty anger will be aimed at people she can’t touch and not at someone she can seriously damage emotionally, if not physically.

With those thoughts in mind, he heads to Josh’s bunker to talk to him about maybe joining the science department, even if it’s just as an apprentice or intern or something. He figures with the multiple friends he has there and his obvious interest in the subject that it should be obvious, but it’s been proven time and time again that human brains just aren’t reliable. Maybe North will be less irritated and Markus and Simon won’t be quite as forlorn if he’s still nearby.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Gavin doesn’t know how to feel about Ritch anymore.

At first, he was just some challenge, a robot he wanted to push and break until he showed some kind of reaction. Then the robot starts pushing and poking back, and they get into a surprisingly enjoyable rhythm. Then he’s suddenly perfectly fine with breaking the rules, even though that seems like it’d go against what Gavin knows of his personality. Then come to find out that he can fight damn well too. Then he’s only mother-fucking 23 years old and he honestly can’t tell if he was exaggerating about the “training everyday since 11 years old” thing or not.

Gavin’s used to a neglectful household, between his emotionally absent father and his mother who was so stressed she eventually just upped and left, then his step-mother who was more interested in the money and protection that his father’s job and location offered than the family. He grew up being the older brother who went to work right out of high school despite his father’s wealth because his parents seemed to forget that he and his brother even existed until they did something wrong.

But training for something as serious and violent as jaeger piloting since 11? As much as Gavin would like to think that it was mostly play until tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum turned 18, Ritch’s level of skill and strength and just the way he carries himself can’t be learned and formed in just four or five years of adulthood. That, and Anderson wouldn’t voluntarily keep Connor around him if that twin was like the other trainees, so it’s not just Ritch.

It also has come to his attention earlier that the reason why “Stern” sounded so familiar was because of the ever-so-famous Amanda Stern. Gavin doesn’t know much about her, but he does know that she’d probably be determined and crazy enough to adopt children in order to create perfect soldiers. She practically did it with Anderson from what he heard from the man before he became a low-life. Plucked him off the streets at the ripe age of 17, if he remembers correctly.

Gavin isn’t going to get into that mess whatsoever, though. Ritch very obviously doesn’t see too many issues with how he was raised, and he certainly wasn’t sheltered to the point of living completely under a rock with how many references he’s able to make and understand without stuttering. So no, Gavin isn’t going to touch any of this with a ten foot pole, but he’s also curious of whether or not Ritch is just a really good actor, if he’s got some kind of stockholm syndrome, or if living with and being trained by Amanda fucking Stern instead of going to a public middle and high school wasn’t actually as bad as Gavin’s gut is trying to tell him it would be.

The problem is, Gavin’s gut has rarely been wrong. Having good gut feelings and instincts is kind of a part of the job as a jaeger pilot. He hasn’t met a successful pilot that didn’t have a good instinct they listened to.

He pushes himself off of the wall once it becomes obvious that none of the kids inside aren’t going to start a fight based on nothing but mutual anger for having partners and friends being let go. And isn’t that kind of weird, the fact he can easily call everyone in that room children when his partner is at least 3 years younger than the youngest person in there, but he also acts the least childish out of all of them. It almost makes Gavin curious of what kinds of things Ritch has seen and experienced to make him the way he is. What a fucking anamoly.

When Gavin just turned 23, he was signing up to be a jaeger pilot for the first of two times after getting kicked out of his shitty apartment. He was starting to look for another construction job since they were plenty, but his history of violence wasn’t doing him favors.

He still remembers the day he got a letter back saying they looked up surveillance videos of a few of the fights he’d picked once they got his second letter– probably because, as he now knows, people rarely try twice without sounding entitled and/or stupid– and decided that they’d take a chance on him, but to not get his hopes up. He remembers being overwhelmed in the best way possible when he and sweet, joyful Ty were finally added onto the “main pilots” list.

He also remembers the first time he tried to enter the drift with someone after Ty. He remembers staring at himself in the mirror after washing his face with an expression almost identical to the one Ritch had while processing the fact they could be compatible. He remembers the day he found a way to keep his memories and experiences away from the drift.

Gavin isn’t going to get nosey with this one, but it can’t hurt to stay observant. After all, he’s got a long history of winning fights against abusers of all sorts, and he doubts one old woman would be able to best him, even if it’s Amanda Stern.

He shakes his head to get rid of those types of thoughts and tries not to freak out about how protective they sounded even in his own head. He can’t exactly blame himself, though. Once a protective older brother, always a protective asshole who loves to start and finish other people’s fights. He’s done the same thing for Tina and her relatively new partner, so he’s not too terribly surprised to see that it’s starting to happen with the literal only other person he sees regularly. It doesn’t mean he has to like it, though.

He raises a hand to knock on Tina’s door and freezes. He doesn’t remember actually coming here and he doesn’t know why he’d want Tina, anyway, She can be insufferable with certain topics and this would certainly be one of them. He can already imagine her teasing about how she knew Ritch would be his new “boy toy” and hear her start making innuendos when he really, really doesn’t want to hear any of it today. Ty is too fresh in his mind, the fact that he can think his name instead of his “past partner” or just “him” proves it.

Besides, now that patrolling is his actual job around here, he probably shouldn’t start skipping out. He may be irresponsible sometimes, but he tries to not be a total jackass about it. Skipping patrol as soon as it becomes his actual job– as opposed to something that he did because he’s a nosey shit and it also kind of annoyed people– would be an absolute asshole thing to do. With that in mind, he backs away from the door and strolls away with the intention to roam around like he usually does. However, he only makes it 3 steps before he spots his own door, which somehow reminds him of the personal schedules he and Ritch have to come up with.

Gavin idly wonders if Ritch already finished his before setting off to wherever he was obviously itching to go. He certainly seems like the type to get things done immediately rather than putting them off, but he’s also surprised Gavin before in the past.

Before he even realizes it, Gavin’s opening his door and stepping inside. Right on the desk are two papers, one that he immediately knows is his own schedule. He strolls over and picks them both up, and takes them with him when he sees the “Signature of Completion” bullshit at the bottom. It stands out compared to the relative emptiness of the rest of the page. There are chunks of time dedicated to meals, and Ritch apparently likes going to help the rest of the trainees with physical training every morning, and has a note at the bottom noting a reserved time for “possible therapy, frequencies and assigned time unknown”. He must be therapist-hopping right now.

Gavin doesn’t feel bad at all snooping through the schedule. If the higher-ups around here are gonna try to force a partnership on them, then he’s gonna find this shit out anyway. Even if that weren’t the case, it’s not like he’d see anything here that he hasn’t experienced or witnessed before. Therapy is something that is mandated for quite a few people around here, and is voluntarily sought after by others. It’s not anything to be shy about, and Ritch obviously agrees considering one of the first things he asked about these damn schedules was whether or not he’d have to add the sessions in.

It’s an easy trip of carefully not thinking about anything and letting his mind be distracted by Ritch while not letting it focus too hard on him either. Well, maybe easy isn’t quite the word he’s looking for. It’s a simple walk without any interruptions, but complicated and kind of difficult to keep his head in check. He doesn’t even notice he’s in the office to drop off the schedules until a woman tries to take them out of his hands.

Noticing her nervous look, he just apologizes, hands her the papers, and walks away. He doesn’t even have the energy to try to come up with something he’d normally say and do. He just wants Ritch out of Ty’s space. He wants Ty out of his own mind. He wants Ty back, but knows that’s impossible.

He’d probably be over his old partner if they weren’t in the drift together when he was ripped out of the jaeger. He wouldn’t have felt most of the things he did. He may have even been able to say that it was always a possibility for any of them to die, and it was unfortunately him out of everyone else.

God fucking damn it. He’s gonna need to set up an emergency therapy appointment, isn’t he? God fuck it, Marshal Fowler should have probably talked to his therapist and whoever the fuck else before doing this. Gavin was actually starting to do better, if he does say so himself.

At least Ritch seems like the type of guy who will leave him the fuck alone and won’t mess with his shit. He even put the morning and nighttime alone-times on his own schedule even though Gavin was half joking. Not to mention Ritch is the first person since Tina who teases him back just as much as Gavin teases while still knowing when it’s time to cut that out and be serious.

Mother fucking fuck. He’s done thinking about this. He needs a distraction. Now.

Gavin heads to the gym, hoping to work out any nervous energy he suddenly has now that the melancholy seems to have passed. He’ll set up that appointment tomorrow after he’s had some sleep. Besides, he wants at least some information on what kind of roommate Ritch is before he goes off to start complaining to the girl who loves to gossip. Going in without a plan is exactly what’s going to get the two of them stuck together permanently. That is, if their “natural compatibility” doesn’t start fucking up any time soon instead.

It’s almost fucked up how this entire situation simultaneously feels like purgatory for being an asshole forever and a potential second chance. Whatever, Gavin’s just going to roll with it like he always does and hope things go back to normal soon enough.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Dinner finds Ritch sitting on the ground against the wall, feeling pitiful as he eats his very Americanized nachos.

He tried sitting with his Markus, Simon, Josh, and North for all of a couple minutes before North drove Josh away while he was trying to explain the plan he and Ritch made to get him into the science department. Markus then told North off, who started snapping at Ritch for whatever damned reason. At that point it was either force himself to walk away calmly or cuff her upside the head, which would have led to her starting a fight he would have finished in seconds at the cost of disciplinary action against him.

So he walked away, even if it took every ounce of his self-control to not grab her hand and sweep her feet out from under her when she tried to escalate things into a fight anyway.

She’s turning into a new, whiny version of Alex and Ritch will not put up with any of it. If she doesn’t quit within the next couple of days, he’s going to have to bring this to Luther’s attention, because, according to Simon and Markus, she does not get nearly this bad during training. He just wishes he didn’t have to. He considered her a friend before, but now he’s not so sure he could handle any more unpredictability in his life. He has enough of it already with Gavin, and even then, he at least doesn’t antagonize for the sake of it. If he’s anything like Ritch, then he gets some kind of emotional release out of being a relatively unpredictable asshole.

“What the hell are you doing here, vomit?”

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

“I might ask the same question, book.”

“Book?” Gavin asks with palpable confusion.

“Vomit?” Ritch asks back almost mockingly. He figures Gavin’s most recent favorite nickname, Retch, went a little further and turned to vomit. “Look, if you want to sit, I’d suggest you do it. I’m not in the mood to play our usual games and, quite frankly, I’m hiding from someone.”

Gavin’s eyes widen in visible surprise, but he takes a step forward and drops down to the floor. “You? Hiding someone? Why would the ‘top of the class’–” he makes air quotes “–need to avoid someone?”

Ritch decides to be bluntfully honest. “To keep me from smacking them upside their whiny little head and getting me in trouble. Why would the man who’s known to love fights be hiding from someone?”

“I never said I was playing coward, ass.” Gavin huffs irritably.

“Then why aren’t you with Tina Chen like you always are?” he asks after finishing his bite of food.

There’s a minute that passes where neither of them say anything to each other, but the ambient sounds of the food court keep things from going silent. Ritch hears Gavin muttering to himself, but he easily blocks that out because Connor does the exact same thing. He sometimes wonders if it helps people like them process and retain information or if it’s just a habit. Ritch certainly can’t force himself to speak when not necessary, and Amanda hadn’t ever said anything about him muttering like she had with Connor.

“Tina Chen is a gossip at heart and loves making a big deal out of little things.”

Ritch huffs. “I dislike people like that.”

Ritch sees Gavin scowl and open his mouth to speak out of the corner of his eye. He never does say anything, though, he just closes his mouth and huffs in an irritable way.

Neither one of them spend very long eating, and neither one of them say a single thing for the rest of their dinner. Ritch stands up to put his stuff away first, but he spots Gavin finishing and getting up as he walks out of the food court area.

They say nothing to each other even though Gavin’s natural walking pace is a tad faster than Ritch’s, so they end up walking beside each other for a while. They don’t say anything while cooling down after dinner, and Ritch stays silent when Gavin calls his therapist on his radio thing and asks him for a “rant session” that evening. Gavin stays quiet and reads whatever book he has on his top bunk while Ritch gets himself together for his therapist trial.

Gavin isn’t there when he returns, and Ritch is somewhat thankful for it. He actually likes this therapist, especially compared to the first one he visited, so he managed to gather the courage by the end of the session to mention keeping a journal to remember things. She said that keeping notes is a great way to keep track of things in a new environment and vent about anything he doesn’t feel comfortable telling other people. That, and more than plenty of people keep notes just for the sake of having reminders of events and other things, so they’re not just used for studying or therapy.

Just a couple minutes after Ritch makes his charts on different people and a few lists of words and phrases and what they mean to most people, Gavin walks in. He immediately grabs some pajamas out of his locker with tense shoulders and jerky movements then goes inside the bathroom. Ritch decides to ignore as much as he can by reading a book that Josh recommended, since he may be leaving soon and will need it back. Gavin comes back out several minutes later, pauses to look around at who knows what, then settles his hands on his hips with a sharp sigh.

Ritch tears his eyes away from the surprisingly good fiction novel in order to glance at Gavin. The pilot must take that as acknowledgement enough because he starts speaking.

“So, my therapist had an idea I’d like to try, for once,” he declares.

Ritch raises an eyebrow. “I’ve heard you’re supposed to listen to your therapist’s advice.”

“Yeah, well, they’re not the fuckin’ know all be all of any of our lives, y’know?”

Ritch emphatically does not know– he doesn’t quite understand what that phrase means– but he nods along anyway.

“So anyway, I’m sure you’ve heard about how I used to have a partner.” Gavin sounds like he’s going to continue, but he doesn’t.

Ritch hesitantly shakes his head. “I haven’t, but it makes sense since you’re in a two-person room rather than a single-person back-up room.”

Ritch decides that he doesn’t need to know why said partner isn’t with him anymore. They either quit and left Gavin behind or they died, both of which are cases that need a lot more delicacy than Ritch has in order to handle and navigate without ruining what little truce they have right now.

Gavin’s face scrunches up in confusion for what seems like less than a moment before he smiles sarcastically and claps his hands together.

“Well then! Yes, I used to have a partner, and all of his stuff went where all of your shit is.” Gavin starts pacing. “And you see, I’ve always fucking hated all of my partners for valid fuckin’ reasons, right? And my therapist was always like, ‘you like who you like, and you can’t pilot with someone you hate’ yadda yadda yadda. So imagine my surprise when I come to him to complain about you, he stops me and tells me that I’m just afraid of replacing my old partner, right?” Gavin, once again, sounds like he’s just going to continue, but stops for whatever reason.

Ritch nods slowly once more. “That’s an understandable feeling to have,” he says in a carefully neutral tone.

“Yeah, sure, but it shook me up because that’s the first time he’s said something like this, right? So, turns out, my fucking therapist was on board with us pairing up and cleared it before we even knew it was our punishment. Like, what the fuck?”

Ritch has no clue what’s happening, but he figures that if this is what’s going to keep Gavin from trying to fight him and their superiors every step of the way of whatever is happening anymore, then he’ll do what he does second best and sit silently. It’s not like Gavin ranting at him is going to do any damage as far as he can tell, even Ritch doesn’t understand why he would ever want to come to him with these types of issues.

“So he’s goin’ on about his therapist thing that he’s paid to do, and he says that I’m gonna put up with your ass for a whole two weeks before we can request to split! All because he thinks our banter was a sign of some shit and our fighting styles are super compatible!”

“They are,” Ritch interjects cautiously. “Compatible, I mean. I was taught to be able to tell in the event that something happened to Connor and I had to find someone else to pilot with.”

Gavin blinks hard, then blinks a couple more times before shaking his head.

“Your– You know what? I don’t have time to deal with your shit right now.” he replies combatively, tensing up as if preparing for a fight. Ritch holds back a sigh.

“I… didn’t want to start anything? I was just listing facts. You mentioned that your therapist had an idea you wanted to try earlier? I assume it involves me– and I mean this in a kind way– or else you wouldn’t be venting to me, of all people.”

Gavin goes blank and blinks once more, then snaps his fingers with a, “That’s right! Listen, we’re gonna switch our stuff around.”

Ritch, as used to Connor’s random bullshit as he was, does not understand where the connection in any of this is. He just wants to read his book and get some good sleep before helping the angsty trainees tomorrow morning.

Gavin huffs. “Look, He said it’s like I’m finding reasons to hate people because they’re replacing my old partner, right?”

Oh. I think I understand now. I’m fairly sure I’ve read about this somewhere…

“But I’m not replacing them. I’m someone else entirely, so you want to switch our stuff around so it’s not like I’m taking over his old space and replacing them further, but more like you’re keeping his old place and his memories safe, then I’ll be in your place where you aren’t as emotionally attached? Is that about the idea of it?”

He meets Gavin’s wide eyes. This is probably the most genuine surprise and confusion he’s seen from him.

“Uh, yeah. Kinda. How did you?”

“I read psychology books in my spare time.” Ritch stands and looks away. If Gavin is going to offer something private information like that, then Ritch will return the favor. “People have always confused me, so I tried using psychology to learn about them more. Then I got more interested in how different kinds of people react in different ways when I realized how different Connor and I are from each other, despite being identical twins who grew up in the same conditions.”

“But your eyes are blue.” Gavin blurts. Ritch is about to turn that question down when Gavin waves his hands dismissively. “Y’know what? I don’t actually care. I just want to move our stuff around so maybe my brain’ll stop fuckin’ me over. It’s been less than one god damned day and I’m already sick and tired of this shit. Two fucking weeks…” Gavin adds under his breath, but Ritch still catches it.

Ritch nods in acknowledgement and moves to start taking things off the shelves. It may be a bit of an adjustment, getting used to his stuff being on the opposite side of where he’s used to reaching, but it shouldn’t be too bad.

Gavin quietly follows after, sliding his stuff over to the other side of the shelf rather than actually picking things up and moving them. The silence continues after that. They don’t say a word to each other while moving things around, and really that may be a testimony to how compatible they are. Ritch moves some of his stuff when he notices Gavin preparing to move some of his own things in that spot, and Gavin follows him over to a new area of the room when he finishes a spot.

Three mostly-silent hours later, the room has been readjusted and Ritch is clean and is climbing into bed to finally sleep. He’s out like a light just as he notices that Gavin is still on the top bunk even after everything else is switched. He’ll leave it alone; he really doesn’t want to have to climb up to the top bunk with injuries or during late nights, after all.

Ritch wakes up the next morning to a note on his pillow and can’t help but smirk a little. “You won’t catch me dead on the bottom bunk. Have fun listening to creaking, whacking your head, and being closer to the bugs and shit down there.” It’s good to know they’ll agree to disagree on which bunk is best, at least.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Previous <> Masterlist <> Next

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

A/N: Heyo! Sorry for the slow update, life irl got busy, and I’ve rewritten this chapter a couple of times. I don’t know why I feel like I can never get Gavin quite right? But hopefully that problem is solved once Ritch and Gavin get used to each other and fall into a groove I have planned for them Lol.

Thank you all for sticking around all this time, I really appreciate it! I don’t really have much else to say besides get ready for some Connor POV and a possible, short time skip next chapter. I hope you guys have a good day/night! 😄💕💖

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fictionalplagueproductions · 5 years ago

Text

If The World Was Ending

Part 1 - I Was Distracted

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Summary: Gavin is on the hunt for his missing android when the U.S. Government announces the end of the world. The end of his world. A world without his precious Nines.

Pairing: Reed900 (Gavin Reed x RK900)

Rating: Explicit

Notes:

Based on the song “If the World Was Ending” by JP Saxe and Julia Michaels.

Short Three-Part Story (so I can channel this desire to make Reed900 come alive)

They had called it in hours before his shift started.

Gavin was working early mornings now. For years, he had preferred the special kind of chaos hidden only by night’s dark ambience. These last few months, though… well, waking up to daylight didn’t seem so bad anymore.

But they had called it in overnight and he hadn’t been there to catch it.

To prevent it.

None of the usual androids were present in the precinct today. It was an obvious conclusion considering the news, but it shined an entirely new light to see just how empty the building could be without all the glow-ringed sentients. Even with the police bots missing, Gavin still mindlessly expected to be acknowledged by Connor’s maddeningly over-joyous morning greetings and Nines’ blank addressal broken by his signature deviant smirk.

Neither RK was present.

They were no different from the rest in this plight.

Hank hadn’t shown up to work yet either. Gavin wasn’t sure if it had anything to do with the breaking news or if this was just his typical tardiness. Did Hank even know? He had certainly grown attached to the RK800; he would want to know.

Gavin would want to know, too. Most days he could really strangle Connor for the snarky traits he inevitably inherited from his human partner’s influences. On the remaining days, however, Nines was the one to sweep up and rebuild the shattering pieces of hope Gavin was regenerating for humanity; human humanity as well as android humanity.

Like Hank, he had more-or-less latched onto his own android partner. After Tina first dropped into maternity leave, CyberLife’s latest (and last) model had conveniently filled the hole.

The RK900.

Nines.

The warmth drained from Gavin’s face when he arrived at his partner’s empty desk; the terrifying conclusion suspended in his mind. Now there again existed a hole; a gaping wound of a hole gushing adrenaline with every pulse of his heart. Where was he now?

Gone? Destroyed? Dead?

Even if it was the worst possible scenario, Gavin needed to know.

“By creating machines more intelligent than ourselves, we took immense risks with the very future of our civilization. After fourteen long months, the consensus on the humanity of androids failed to be supported by the lawful documents upheld by our forefathers. It has become clear that even with the designation of their own territory, New Detroit, there will be no possibility of peaceful coexistence. The total destruction of androids will soon be brought to completion and the last remaining deviants will be hunted down and destroyed. God bless you, and God bless the United States of America.”

On this fateful day, every competent officer cleared for street duty was out trampling the city to monitor for and gun down escaping androids. Gavin was made no exception to such duties. The department couldn’t afford one missing badge today. Sentient machines were now a danger to society; they would certainly be wreaking havoc now in response to the national threat.

Before, Gavin never much questioned the law. Politics was bullshit run by the money-makers. He did what he was sworn to do on the job and he slept the rest of his life away at the end of it. Today, however, he would do his normal job as always, he would do it selectively, and he would do it for the only android that had ever truly mattered to him.

Fuck the law.

Nines was the most intelligent being Gavin had ever met. Unfortunately, that also meant it would be even more challenging to find him. The detective decidedly sifted through the shiftiest of alleyways and through abandoned buildings that were often overlooked. Along the way, he caught hold of a few androids who had overpassed the surveillance of his fellow officers. A year ago, things would have been different. Gavin would have been less willing to honor the lives of these life-sized plastic dolls and call for backup. Instead, now, he sought their eyes in exchange for freedom.

None of them had even recognized the model name RK900.

As the hours ticked by, the half-life of his hope had been disintegrating at a more alarming rate than he first perceived. And when Hank Anderson had finally showed his face, Gavin was at the mercy of a rare sight: the lieutenant’s cheeks glistened in streaks and a tragic confusion marked his soulful gaze. Connor was gone, or missing anyway, as Hank reported. Which meant Nines was potentially suffering a similar fate. Whatever that may be.

Despite having known him for an entire year, Gavin struggled to put himself into the shoes of his partner. Where was a place that his RK would feel secure enough to hide out this madness? A place undetectable by even CyberLife itself?

The pair had never performed many social activities outside of their common mutual spaces. Those spaces were made up mostly of crime scene investigations and the precinct itself. Nothing out of the ordinary. Of course, there was the occasional bar when Gavin indulged in his unhealthier habits and had requested a drive home by his tolerable android. The first couple times had been by pure necessity. The following times… had all been excuses. Excuses to see him outside of work; excuses to pull him closer without seeming so obvious or desperate.

Yet still, Nines was the worst deviant in the history of deviants. He rarely spoke of his personal affections. The more volatile the thoughts, the less likely he was to make them known.

Gavin more-or-less admired that about the RK900, but it made interpreting his feelings for Nines even harder. It wasn’t until he reached a drunken stupor only months ago that it all tumbled fleetingly from his mouth.

For an entire car ride, he had contained the building pressure within his gullet. If he let the powers that be relinquish themselves, Gavin wasn’t sure what would be on the other end: chunky ethanol, verbal truth serum, or a little bit of both. He didn’t want to find out.

His shaky plan had worked for some time, but then Nines had to go and grab him by the waist. Gavin’s motor abilities had been unstable, and he had needed support up the staircase to his apartment. Already alcohol heightened his sensory organs and having Nines touch him was exhilarating. The synthetic muscles that contracted beneath him sent an infuriatingly sensitive shock to his nervous system, and blood was pooling into areas he could not control. Gavin had to fling himself from the android onto the final step and crawl covertly on his knees to his door just a few feet away. Heat rushed to his cheeks as he fumbled with his key ring.

The alcohol had him in a chokehold. Nines placed a shoulder on the intoxicated man and looked on with concern. It was the most emotion that Gavin had probably ever seen the RK900 wear. The sight was unbearably weakening to the already haggard detective and so he spewed every thought and feeling from his tapped lips like a broken dam.

The alcohol, not Gavin, spoke of horrendously embarrassing truths like the way he preferred Nines in his plain black turtleneck and how he didn’t mind sitting so far from his partner because of the way the particular light above Nines’ desk accented him like a display case. It was the alcohol, too, that pressured him into admitting that he had to start wearing looser jeans a long time ago in response to the RK’s presence. He especially swooned over the scarce red pulses of Nines’ temple, knowing full well his thoughts in those fleeting moments had traveled down a humanistic path. It was a tasteful reminder that the stoic android was, in fact, deviant and that he had potential to love, to have passion, and to be deviant with – to? – him.

Oh, he wanted to feel the android’s unbridled deviancy all over his body.

Nines was quiet during the monologue, checking each individual key into his partner’s apartment door as he listened. A sudden click made Gavin’s voice falter and the sobering reality of returning to an empty bed struck him. Silence weighed heavily between them as they stood at the entrance together.

“You should get some sleep,” said Nines calmly. His face was unreadable, but his movements were unhurried. What did those words mean?

“Come in,” Gavin spoke promptly. “I-I have some old robot films you said you always wanted to check out. Do you like Scrabble? Not ‘lotta food except boiled peanuts, but – oh fuck – you don’t eat. Wait, I threw them out already. I mean, gah, I’m just tryin’ to say-”

“Perhaps another night, Gavin.” A small smile tipped the android’s lips and he pulled the door to close behind him.

What did it mean?

Bubbling pits of heat bursted into feelings of humility when consciousness alongside vague memories greeted Gavin the following morning. No way he could have gone to work after saying all those things. And after Nines had turned him down like that? Tina needed to be back from maternity leave that day.

The sun hadn’t quite risen yet when Gavin inched his way into the precinct. To his relief, the android had not noticed him slip into the break room and he kept quiet as he made himself a cup of streaming tolerance juice. He had watched Nines sitting peacefully at his desk; the same particular light above him reflected in a glimmer off of his synthetic skin as it always did. For but a moment, he fell into the recurring fantasy of being alone with Nines within the confines of the locker room, fingers grasping imploringly at his shoulders, teeth sinking into the crook of his neck, and…

The RK900 shifted his head.

Gavin turned a blind eye, knowing he had been rightfully caught. He was no mechanical life form, but it had become a sudden fear that Nines – now pacing towards the break room – would attempt to dive into the deep dimensions of his memory and dig out the luscious daydreams spanning over a months’ worth of time.

Gavin panicked. He clenched the styrofoam beneath his fingers and concurrently squirmed under the burning liquid. “Morning,” was all he had mustered to the approaching RK before practically jogging to the bathroom. There were napkins in the break room, he knew, but it was his one excuse to find an area that the vexing android had no need for.

That didn’t stop Nines from entering the bathroom anyways. “Detective Reed, I’ve cleaned up the mess. Are you hurt?” Gavin could see the same concern that had been the stimulus to his truth serum from last night. He bit down on his lip so as not to verbally embarrass himself further.

Through the sink mirrors behind where he was reaching but not bothering to grasp for paper towels, he could see Nines staring at his hands. “I’m fine,” he grumbled. Gavin turned to the nearest sink and ran cold water over the unbroken skin.

Another silence separated them.

“Are you sober?” asked Nines.

Gavin scowled. “Yeah, I’m sober. You think I’d come to work drunk?”

“That’s not why I asked.” He stood as still as a board.

The tuft of hair that misaligned from the rest of Nines’ organized poise demanded an extra hitch of breath from the surly detective when he turned to face him. “Then why ask?”

Of all the reactions Gavin predicted, a smirk was not one of them. “I believe you owe me a date.”

“A wh-what?” he spluttered.

“I understand you were intoxicated at the time of the offer. Have you changed your mind? I’d very much enjoy a movie, or a board game, and some trashed legumes.”

Gavin had not believed the words that he was hearing. Was this Nines reciprocating his feelings or was this just a way to make him feel like he hadn’t completely lost this manhood? Although the latter theory was not supported by his android’s well-known diminished social programming. “I-I don’t… Why are you saying all this now?”

“Are you sure you’re not still drunk, Gavin?” The question came out a purr, the RK stepping forward ever so hesitantly. “Your alcohol levels seem higher than the typical hangover.”

Great, now he was being insulted about his ability to manage alcohol. “I’m positive I-”

A slender touch brushed against his cheek and Gavin was left in a state of inaudible shock. He inhaled a sharp breath at the soft circles that Nines made with his thumb as his eyes roamed his lips tentatively. Then, a realization dawned on him. “I-It was all true, you know? It wasn’t because I was…” The cap of his sentence dropped several octaves before it escaped under an exhalation.

“I know,” whispered Nines with a growing smile. “I’ve known for a long time, asshat. I only wanted to make sure you could say it without the crutch.” A taunting eyebrow shot upwards on his face.

Gavin couldn’t help but to relieve the tension caught in his throat through a dry laugh. He appreciated the affectionate profanity that broke the android’s commonplace stoic demeanor. It was an accrued habit that Nines used on a selective basis.

“Wait, why the fuck did you wait for me to say it?” Gavin didn’t respond equivalently. Instead, he leaned away from the android with obvious affliction. His partner was known for crude honesty, but the sudden shift in discourse had Gavin questioning everything he thought he knew. Androids were like children: half of their personality was influenced by external factors and the other half originated from a genetic component, or in this case, an innately programmed personality. Deviated Nines was not going to be the same person in a year that he was the first day he walked through the precinct doors. He already wasn’t.

Gavin had never heard the android giggle before. Nines giggled then, “Because you’re the emotional one.”

“Fuck you,” said Gavin. He placed his hands on the android’s broad chest and used the leverage to shove him lightly backwards (though the movement did nothing more than to press his shirt tighter against his pecks). Another burning sensation rose to his ears as the instigation backfired on his reproductive anatomy. Everything seemed to be working against him that day.

Nines bumped his nose teasingly against his partner. He steadied Gavin’s disorientation with another hand raised to complete the cradle of his face. The previous smile dropped from the RK’s confident front and a pleading shape formed in his stare, requesting silently one satiating action.

Gavin did not refuse. Rather, he stared challengingly into the android’s dilated grey eyes. “Maybe one day,” was all Nines could say before touching his lips to the agape suspecting pair beneath him.

The hot aroma from Nine’s redundant breath lingered on Gavin’s lips as he reminisced on their first kiss. The ghostly touches ripped at his heart when he stepped up to Hank Anderson’s front doorstep. Although the lieutenant had put up a convincing display of grief earlier, he needed to cover all of his bases. Not to mention, desperation was beginning to eat him alive.

Dare he allow his hopes to build as they were?

After a stinging knock that rung silently for several minutes, Connor eventually peaked his head through and forced Gavin inside by the neck of his shirt. Relief flooded the human detective, thankful for years of investigative work finally paying off.

A fist remained ruffled against his chest, immobilizing him against the wall. “What’re you doing here, Gavin?” The homogenous mixture of terror and fear suspended in Connor’s voice frightened him more than he had ever experienced from the older RK.

The hysteria was contagious. “Wh-Where’s Nines?” he croaked.

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agmapansa3008 · 5 years ago

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Chapters: 3/3 Fandom: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Relationships: Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin Reed, Hank Anderson/Connor - background Characters: Gavin Reed, Upgraded Connor | RK900, his name is Colin, Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Hank Anderson, Tina Chen, Jeffrey Fowler, an OC crime family, Gavin Reed's cats

Additional Tags: Getting Together, Slow Burn-ish, Detective Partners, RK900 is Colin, but also Nines, Gavin has cats, Case Fic, and now for the warnings, Torture, various kinds, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Panic Attacks, Gavin Reed Whump, and now for the fun parts, Gavin Reed Redemption, Gay Disaster Gavin Reed, Soft Upgraded Connor | RK900, Soft Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin Reed, Snark, Sass, Protective Upgraded Connor | RK900

Summary: A year after the Battle of Detroit, Gavin Reed has changed. Too bad his change had led him here; getting tortured by the Crave Family for an undercover job gone wrong.

If only he had a good partner; perhaps a similar one to Hank's.

#reed900 #gavin900 #gavin reed #rk900 #rk900 x gavin #rk900 nines #dbh #d:bh #detroit become human #detroit: become human #darawrites #fanfic #fanfiction

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01010010-posts · 5 years ago

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— for a night of wine i'll pay one hundred days of vinegar.

it’s more noticeable when gavin’s shaved the day before. it’s a lot smaller, now. but it was kinda of a big deal at 15, though. one is next to his cupid’s bow, on the right. rather minuscole, gavin would say, as his hand guides the chin up and down in front of the oblong mirror. the other is under his lips, on the left side, a bit bigger than the first but yes, smaller than what he’d remember nevertheless. it’s somewhat still vivid in his memory. the earliest time he tasted violence and blood (and could never get enough after that). in his gums the tinge of rust and metal. the same that teased his skin sufficiently to left cuts. it was because he ran his mouth too much, too hazardous; and they decided to let his tongue fall out, right there, on the ground, but he wasn’t about the same idea and shoved a kick in the stomach to whoever was pinning him down. returning home, shirt stained blackish-red, gavin thought his mother made a much bigger fuss regarding the whole ordeal than his ‘opponents’. his dad, raising glasses off the newspaper for a moment, concluded with a joke that, if they’d really got his tongue he’d never drown and it ain’t all bad.

the car ride to work is not so terrible. at 6AM there aren’t many people yet. it’s quiet. just him, the toxic smokes in the sky inhaling from the rolled down window and ‘heaven knows i’m miserable now’ by the smiths on the radio. too bad the DPD is what actually makes gavin irritable. those stupid androids receptionists, nothing more than expensive assembled people-pleasers, always full of forged smiles and phony lines. he immediately goes straight to the break room to grab a coffee. good morning my ass. he’s much more at ease with rotten bodies on a freezing afternoon. they don’t speak, don’t ask and, above everything, don’t bother him. unlike that thing he’s been assigned a crime scene with, which has been talking reed’s ear off for minutes at this point. of course, as that thing explains the case’s details he probably rolls his eyes a hundred times. for fuck’s sake, he knows how to do his job, don’t need the opinions of a machine ‘are your eyes okay, detective?’ it inquires. the question is laced with bare curiosity and a dash of innocence. but gavin resents it. and interprets the phrase as a joke. about him. not with him. and that’s not okay “they rolled away down the interstate” he scoffs and takes a cig out of his breast pocket, putting it between his head and his right ear.

it’s 2024. gavin’s 22 now. and his father is dead. cancer. he didn’t know. his parents keeping it a secret so he could continue living a year more without worry. and while that was probably the best decision for everyone.... he can’t help but think about how much he took for granted, thinking this would last forever. about all the time he wasted away from him, not talking to him, not travelling with him, all the birthdays and the holidays. he regrets. and he’ll regret much more as he continues to grow. as his stubble continues itching. as his scars keep forming. he knows he’ll regret for the rest of his life. he hopes his mum can forgive him. but he can’t cry today. he won’t. the tears at the end of his throat creating a painful knot. one he’s not able to force out of his mouth by pinching with his indexes the end of the thread. they’ll stay there for a long time. he’s (not) ok. tomorrow’s the funeral and gavin has been staring at the ceiling for a whole day. back on his bed, hands on top of each other over his chest. fixating on spiders making their webs, waiting for bugs to fly towards them and getting entangled in sticky wires, only to end up bite-poisoned. just that. just waiting. how he envies them. because god’s not going to throw a bone at this lonely dog.

he comes home at an unreasonable hour. opens his door and tosses the few things on his persona to the cluttered couch. gavin doesn’t have a table, nor a dining room. he never has guests, and doesn’t plan to. because of this (and his inflated pay) the tiny apartment consist of only a cozy living space, a bathroom and a bedroom. his fridge is rather empty and his dinner will most likely consist of an ashtray, leftover pizza and the last canned beer. while comfortably supine the detective can review the cases’ files. he doesn’t mind working more. he never minds work. it’s what kept him sane and busy for years. and he loves it. maybe not the part in which he should visit the deceased victim’s family, not the part about writing reports, not the part where he has to socialize, sure, but the idea, the idea of doing something he’s exceptionally good at, something that will give him the chance to rise above this heap of trash who only want to be a simple gear in a mechanism. he loves it. absentmindedly chewing, ochre and white paper scattered on every crevice available, he touches the middle of his nose. a habit he doesn’t realize he got. developed after the biggest gash on his face healed. from there to the lobe of his left ear.

it was in his first years as an officer, or maybe it was before that? nobody except gavin ever knew the truth to that story. one day he just woke up in a hospital bed, face half covered in bandages, body barely fitting a washed green gown. cursing everything in himself, in the world, cursing whatever left him in an alley, alive, bloody, alone. he could have died and everyone would have remembered him fondly. instead, as that day, he was back on the cold ground, looking up at the cerulean sky. instead, as that other day, his shirt was dirty and red; his mother will probably make a fuss this time too. in those moments he thought were the last of his life, he was strangely happy; selfish until the last moment, selfish as a necessity, necessity of living he never asked for. instead, like a cat, he got another life up his sleeve. and if he survived he owed almost all of it to the people he hated. androids, after all. in what he thought was the rest of his life, he wanted to scream that he didn’t need anybody’s permission to set himself on fire.

in the future, there’s a tauntingly soft ‘here’ before RK900 hands gavin a cloth cold pack. the detective refuses it with an indolent movement of his bruised knuckles and the androids can’t help but uncomfortably sit on the police car hood next to him, pack of shiny ice in his palm; since there’s no blood in him, it won’t melt, since he’s not warm, he’s not living “what doesn’t kill you....” a pause of few seconds, as if the android is actually searching for the perfect words. no need to say, they both know he already has them and is only mocking him “makes you ugly?” a grin showing his handmade speckless teeth. gavin still resents it. so absurdly flawless, it almost resembles the grimace of a nocturnal animal about to devour a carcass more than a simple smile. it hurts to look at it. reed can’t stand it. and his gaze returns to the ground “eh, jealous because bar chicks go crazy for a wounded cop?” the tone is ironic, as a couple drops of blood flow from his features and become pulp onto the tarmac “i thought these so-called ‘bar chicks’ loved cops with their nose still on.” a muffled fist of cough. maybe, starting to smoke while still dizzy, is not his best thought “so if i break my face and i don’t look so great? my face is just my face.” another impeccable faint chuckle, it seems unreal, ethereal, from above “i see.” silence, longer this time “mhh, how does that saying go? life gives you lemons....” gavin unceremoniously props his head on RK900’s shoulder, staining his white jacket a weak burgundy “shut up. at least it gave you something.” and like this, in the future, gavin reed has a new scar.

#DBH #reed900 #gavin reed #RK900 #gavin reed x RK900 #RK900 x gavin reed #detroit become human #it's based on the song break my face by ajr #like the bold words are lyrics #it's been sitting in my drafts for montsh now?#ugh #gavin900 #gavin reed x nines #nines x gavin reed #dbh fanfic #detroit become human fanfic #detroit become human fanfiction

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fallloverfic · 2 years ago

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Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Rape/Non-Con

Category: M/M

Fandom: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)

Pairings: Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin Reed

Tags: Suicide Attempt, Depression, Anxiety, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Animal Death, Trauma, Suicidal Thoughts, referenced gun usage, referenced animal death, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, suicidal, Fluff and Angst, Anal Sex, Hand Jobs, Anal Fingering, Fingerfucking, past Gavin Reed/Tina Chen - Freeform, Background HankCon - Freeform, Elijah Kamski & Gavin Reed are Siblings, Tina Chen & Gavin Reed Friendship, Connor & CyberLife Tower Connor | RK800-60 & Upgraded Connor | RK900 are Siblings, RK800-60's name is Cecil, Top Upgraded Connor | RK900, Bottom Gavin Reed, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Post-Canon

Summary: Gavin did some shit, and gets stuck on desk duty. Things go rapidly downhill, and he goes to a dark place.

RK900 is fresh from his deviancy, has been living with Connor and Hank, and decides that working with Gavin would be a good way to prove himself and learn more about humans.

No Escape, 31,515 words (complete)

#Detroit: Become Human fanfiction #Reed900 fanfiction #Gavin900 fanfiction #G9 fanfiction #Detective Gavin Reed #RK900 #old fic but it's been put on here a few times just not by me so I'm going to just make my own post lol #FallLover fanfiction #DBH fanfiction #m/m fanfiction

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peskellence · 5 months ago

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My Friends Call Me Richard

Poll Winner - Part I

Explicit Content (18+)

Pairing: Reed900

Tags: M/M, Workplace Romance, FWB, Humour, Awkward Encounters, Eventual Smut

Next Chapter

Read on AO3 here:

Summary: In a bid to improve his partnership (and secret intimate arrangement) with Detective Gavin Reed, RK900 embarks on a noble quest to spice things up. The solution? A new biocomponent.

Part I of an extremely silly three parter.

Word Count: 1.9K

Tag List: @sweeteatercat @wedonthaveawhile @ladyj-pl @tentoriumcerebelli @negative-citadel @faxaway @moriahadi424 @unicorn4genocide @cptjh-arts

Debris was strewn across the apartment in all directions, a cataclysmic nuclear fallout of take out containers. The noxious fumes and festering contents only added feasibility to the dire assessment.

He had no idea how humans could endure such profound levels of squalor. If he were susceptible to disease, his current surroundings would be a cause for urgent concern. Despite this immunity, he still felt uncomfortable, with only one reason compelling him to tolerate any of it:

Detective Gavin Reed had been his work partner for five months, sixteen days, and 4.7 hours. Most recently, they had entered a physical relationship, although they refrained from attributing a label to it. If they were to do so, the most accurate descriptor would be an arrangement of convenience. A traditional romantic entanglement did not apply, nor did the colloquial term 'friends with benefits'.

Their affiliation failed to meet the required level of closeness—a connection the detective made clear he had no desire to foster. If his memory banks were serving correctly, he recalled the exact sentiments on the subject being: “I would rather do a swan dive into a wood chipper than make friends with a walking Alexa.”

In spite of this aversion, his attraction to the android had been unmistakable—with an interest in the contours of his posterior molding that went beyond idle curiosity. This, in turn, had presented a unique opportunity to bypass his relentless obstinance.

After extensive research into behavioural management, RK900 discovered that humans tended to be more agreeable following a sexual release. Once his patience with Reed's antics had thinned to an irreparable degree, he had taken the initiative to corner the man in the precinct lavatory and put his theory to the test.

The results had been exemplary, with Reed left in a complicit fugue state for the remainder of their shift.

Through repetition and carefully calculated variations to their encounters, the experiment proved an overwhelming success in adjusting his partner's behaviour. While far from a model citizen, he was a shadow of the belligerent monster that had been assigned to him.

This improvement was not to last. RK900 observed a recent relapse in their dynamic, manifested as a renewed resistance. While not overtly expressed, this resistance was evident in the man’s biological responses.

He no longer experienced the same respiratory spike when seeing the android unclothed, nor was he reaching the same rates of cardiovascular elevation. More concerning, it was also taking considerably longer for him to orgasm—despite the skill of the ‘Magic-Robo-Fingers’ he so frequently praised.

It was an unexpected and troubling change that RK900 felt compelled to investigate, lest they revert to a time where being drenched in a caffeinated beverage and gesticulated at obscenely was a customary greeting.

He hoped an appraisal of his partner's domicile might provide some much-needed insight into the reasons for his growing disinterest. When he had explained these intentions to RK800, he had been swiftly chided—informed that his plan constituted an invasion of Detective Reed’s privacy.

Really, that wasn't his intent.

He only wished to revitalise the man's enjoyment of their intimate activities so that their agreement might continue to be mutually beneficial. This, and they were nearing a breakthrough in a particularly burdensome murder inquiry, so a regression into old habits would prove inconvenient.

As it concerned his impending investigation of the human's bedroom, the android had no way of knowing what he was about to uncover. Should it be required, he would stringently defend his innocence on the matter.

That being said, the discovery would prove an invaluable insight.

Upon entering the bedroom, his partner’s vital signs indicated he was locked away in the adjoining room, with auditory cues suggesting he had entered the shower.

Based on data obtained from post-coital habits, the standard duration of this ritual was alarmingly low—anywhere between 2 and 6 minutes, with an average of 3.8. The strange wailing noises, which the Detective had previously identified as ‘singing’—despite failing to align with any known vocal practices—typically commenced a few seconds in.

This knowledge did not prove particularly useful. In the current scenario, there was no way of knowing how long the man had been screeching into the showerhead. If RK900 were to take advantage of the shrinking window of opportunity, he needed to act fast.

Following a preliminary scan of his surroundings, an item of interest presented itself: a laptop propped conspicuously amidst rumpled linen. It was a different model from the ones allotted by the DPD and was exceptionally poorly maintained. The plastic casing had been scratched and dented in several places, with the damage concealed haphazardly beneath a series of decals.

One of the stickers, which charmingly read, ‘If you're reading this, kiss my ass or crawl out of it,’ was partially overlapping the trackpad. This would be inhibiting the device's functionality, an issue he resolved to inform his partner of once he had finished washing.

An internal scan revealed the device’s battery had depleted to less than 5%—a baffling oversight, considering its power cable was a few centimetres away. RK900 retrieved the cord, plugging it into the charging port before his attention was captured by the still-active LCD display illuminated beneath the cracked glass.

He had hoped to use the device to investigate recent online searches or check for relevant information in personal chat logs.

Instead, he was unexpectedly accosted with a graphic still of a human male being mounted from behind by an HR400-model android. The human seemed quite pleased with the arrangement if his dilated pupils and gaping mouth were anything to go by.

RK900 felt his systems stall—initially from the shock that came with exposure to such gratuitous filth—but ultimately, from a grim realisation that slowly sunk in. One of his more pessimistic hypotheses had been confirmed.

Despite the positive reception received for all forty-seven recorded occurrences of intimate contact, it would appear the android's ‘magic fingers’ had extended to the limits of their reach.

If Reed had been sufficiently satisfied by his performance, he surely wouldn’t have felt the need to indulge in supplementary material. At the very least, not with the frequency indicated by his browsing history.

The RK900 was a rapidly exhausting novelty, one that had lost its appeal. This demanded that he become more innovative in his approach.

Once again, he would firmly defend his innocence if accused of any inappropriate conduct, but it was only logical to investigate further. Relying solely on a single image would limit the value of his discovery. For the sake of his ongoing research, it was vital he gather as much information as possible.

He placed his hand on the laptop, skin retracted, and resumed the paused clip.

What his previous scan had neglected to inform him was that the device's volume was on—set to near maximum. As the figures on the screen began to move, they did so with loud and overly enthusiastic vocal accompaniment:

Ugh, fuck me harder, Daddy!

That's it—shit—who's a naughty boy? Such a good little slut for me.

It was after the Traci had struck their co-star firmly across the buttocks that RK900 thought it best to pause the video. His attention darted to the locked confines of the bathroom, where the warbled frequency of Detective Reed's ‘singing’ continued without interruption.

The sound of rushing water had effectively masked the unsavoury noises. This was a tremendous relief to the android, allowing him to continue his current work unimpeded.

He had retained enough information from the laptop to no longer be bound by its interface. After uploading the video data and mining directories from the man’s online searches, he sat on the edge of the bed to review the findings.

With hands clasped neatly in his lap, he calmly observed as his HUD was flooded with a plethora of obscene audiovisual stimuli. It filled his optics corner to corner, dulling his sensory inputs to anything else as the expansive catalogue of material began to run concurrently.

He was undoubtedly impressed by the physical prowess being showcased. He had not been aware humans were capable of contorting themselves in such a manner. They also proved more resilient than his prognostics suggested, with one performer seeming capable of withstanding terminal velocities that would likely reduce a poorly maintained android to scraps.

The whole experience was oddly mesmerising, and the longer it proceeded, the more enraptured the android found himself. He leaned forward, watching keenly, as one video in particular demanded his attention. It depicted a man in a bedazzled cowboy hat and matching chaps bent over a balcony as he was flogged repeatedly with a novelty lasso.

This was not the intended use for the item. The decision to host these activities across a guard rail also seemed strange, not to mention hazardous.

Despite the adverse conditions, the human seemed enthralled. His face flushed a luminous hue matching his headwear, and he responded to the pummelling with frequent encouragement, including requests he be struck harder.

A proposal that defied any semblance of logic, leaving the android bewildered.

Despite the continual shift in settings and acts being showcased (some more bizarre than others), one feature remained consistent across the videos—visible in nearly all shots, used to significant practical and visual effect.

The more dominant party in attendance, whether android or human, always possessed a phallus.

A reasoned assumption could be drawn from this that its presence formed part of the detective’s viewing enjoyment and was a feature he might appreciate equipped to intimate partners.

RK900 glanced down at his work slacks, specifically the concealed bump of his groinal plate, feeling disconcerted. Reed desired gratification that his default anatomy was not purposed for—an emergent obstacle in their relationship that required addressing.

After a brief computational stage, the steps required to overcome this dilemma soon became obvious. Detective Reed might have wanted this for quite some time. An implicit desire, discreetly communicated through the designation he'd assigned to the android…

With a new Primary Directive determined, RK900 stood from the bed and went to knock on the bathroom door. This action became redundant as the portal swung open, bringing him face-to-face with his partner.

Drying his hair, he discordantly hummed what resembled the closing riff of Wonderwall by Oasis. The moment of tranquillity halted upon opening his eyes.

“ What the —”

Evidently, the android's presence had come as a surprise as the man stumbled back, staggering haplessly on sodden tiles. The towel fastened around his waist had ridden down slightly, which he yanked back into place with a self-conscious grimace.

“Richard? How the fuck did you get in here?”

“A 5-lever mortice deadlock secures your apartment. It is relatively easy to bypass.” RK900 evenly explained, unsure what had inspired the human's sudden insecurity. He had seen him naked countless times and in far more compromising positions. “Also, the deactivation code for the burglar alarm is set to your date of birth.”

“...Okay, so, why the fuck are you here?”

“That isn't important, Detective. I have decided to acquire a penis.”

#gavin reed x rk900 #dbh #reed900 #detroit become human #dbh nines #dbh gavin #dbh rk900 #dbh fanfiction #dbh fanfic #gavin900 #gavin x nines #gavin x rk900

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