#also they got rid of the piled up tension that day ohohohoho

[monchikyun]

14. price of perfection

He’s always been told how beautiful and nice he is, how much of a delight to have him as a colleague. People look at him with admiration that they often hide behind scorn, becoming the exemplary picture of envy. Even those who allegedly like him can’t be trusted with their natural propensity to shun everything that isn’t at least somewhat natural.

Connor has always been the perfect anomaly in society composed primarily of human beings. The only solace is that he’s is but one of many such seemingly flawless creation, but even his fellow androids regard him as something more than them, as he is the latest, most advanced model in existence. No one cares how incorrect all their assumptions are, how ugly and torn up he feels inside. He hasn’t chosen any of this, it has all been handed to him, together with the burden of being alive. Sometimes he wonders whether he ever wanted any of this. Not even the person closest to him can convince him that becoming a deviant hasn’t been a misguided idea. Hank is happy for him if only because he falsely thinks Connor has found his own way in life, his new purpose. 

He thought that trying to save others would bring some kind of sense of self-fulfilment to him, but the gratitude he never gets just hollows him out every single time. Not that he needs it, he just craves something that would make him forget that in the end, he’s just a machine, no matter how sentient. He has the urge to scream just how unspecial he is, how he doesn’t want to be treated like someone who deserves all the praise or all the resentment. Not a lost child, not a despicable criminal, not a model of perfection. Just a guy who works very hard at covering up his shortcomings.

He’s been living in a state of emotional despair for months, his only distraction being the verbal fights with his favourite enemy - the resident bastard Gavin Reed. At times he can see something behind those sharp grey eyes, maybe an understanding of sorts. Gavin is the only one who is privy to his display of imperfection. In the beginning, it was the exchanged insults that pushed him onward, then those turned into ceaseless bickering, and now it has evolved into a banter charged with palpable tension. He often catches himself wishing to unravel in front of the detective, to give him the pieces of himself he keeps buried deep under all the rot.

Because if he has to hear another compliment addressed to him, he swears he’s going to implode. It’s bothersome enough that he’s aware of all the gossip about the handsome and kind android who is too good to make any meaningful connection with.

He restlessly shuffles in his seat and releases a sigh.

It’s late, he doesn’t have to be in the office anymore, but it feels lonely to go home like this, with no ongoing cases to occupy his mind with. He has had his own flat for most of his life now, but he’s never thought to call it home. It lacks the right essence, a soul. He’d rather observe the grumpy man complaining over a mountain of paperwork he’s been forced to complete by tonight.

After a while, Connor makes him a wonderfully lousy cup of coffee, which Gavin berates him for while emptying the cup like it is the most delicious brew in the world.

“What do you want, tin can.”

He’d like to stay like this for the longest time, bare of his usual shell.

“Supervision.” Gavin laughs at the serious look he gives the overworked man and shakes his head slightly in mild exasperation.

“A stupid way to sabotage my progress. Thought you could do better.”

Connor is hypnotised by the focus the detective is able to put into his work, the way his eyes follow the flowing text on the screen and the cute habit of curving his lips when he…

“Are you going to stare at me the whole night?” The man looks up at him with face the colour of cherry and Connor has to stop himself from performing a complete scan of him.

“This or… you’ll let me help with those documents so we can leave.” He isn’t sure what he’s doing, just that it fills him with something exciting, making his brain a little bit soft.

“Be my guest.”

Connor ignores the slight strain in the detective’s voice and connects his skinless hand with the terminal. It takes him about five seconds to finish the hours worth of mundane work.

“Phcking androids.” Like Gavin hasn’t been mesmerised by the glowing nakedness of his.

“You’re welcome.” This is nice, but not nearly enough. 

“So, where do you wanna go?” 

Oh, he doesn’t actually have anything concrete on his mind. Just somewhere no one would invade their space.

“I’d like to finally meet Miss Chunky.”  

-

Their short journey to Gavin’s place has been painfully quiet, so much so that he is forced to notice the detective’s elevated heartbeat and his ever-rising stress levels. Not that Connor’s were anywhere low.

The flat itself is an absolute mess, just like he has expected. But cosy in a way, properly lived in. He really likes it here.

Gavin runs into one of the rooms, yells some profanities and then emerges with an enormous fluffball in his arms.

“Here she is.” The feline is being handed to him without question and he’s glad that he can’t feel pain, for she doesn’t agree with the idea of being held by a stranger, apparently.

“She’s…. lovely.” He attempts to pet her furry head, but not even Connor can accomplish such an impossible feat.

“Yeah, an absolute joy to have around.” With that, he gently drops the mass of hair to the ground and joins Gavin who has made himself comfortable on the sofa which also serves as a claw sharpener, or so it seems.

They share a brief moment of silence before it gets interrupted by the dreaded reality check.

“What is this. Us. I mean. Why did you come here with me.” He hates the nervousness oozing from the trembling man. If only there was a way of making it disappear.

 But he has to ask first.

“Do you… do you think I’m perfect?”

 The unabashed laughter makes him forget all the anxiety this question came with.

“You self-satisfied prick.” There is no malice in the slur. On the contrary, he can sense fondness coming from Gavin, which is surprisingly not as scary as he anticipated it might be. “You’re the most imperfect person I’ve ever met. Annoying as hell, always acting like you’re above everything, and I hate it when you pretend that nothing affects you. Even you’re face is marred with all the phcking freckles.” He flicks Connor’s nose, which ignites something dangerous inside of him. “…and your coffee sucks.” Gavin takes a deep breath and through the exhale adds: “You’re just terrible at being a flawless machine.”

“Maybe that’s the reason I’m here, then.”

He feels like smiling, and so he shamelessly does so.

“I wouldn’t invite you to my home if you were anything other than what you are.” Gavin tentatively touches his hand, tracing invisible patterns with his finger. Not even his lousy self-control could prevent him from retracting his skin and making the human lose his mind by trying to interface with him. It’s a futile attempt, he’s fully aware of that, but the warmth he gets from Gavin is worth all of the pointless effort. 

Perhaps being alive isn’t the worst thing imaginable, at least not now.  

“Close your eyes, tin can.”

And Connor can’t wait to show the detective just how terrible he’s at kissing, too.

@convinseptember take this word-spewage  xD