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connorssock · 6 years ago

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Hungry Eyes

@anuninterestingperson I was your pinch-hitter for the @dbhevents Secret Santa! I’ll also pop this on AO3 when I get a moment, but for now, I hope you enjoy it!

Hungry Eyes

Running a burger shack was fun. It wasn’t in the slightest what Connor had planned to do with his life. He’d had aspirations for Michelin stars and being a culinary sensation. Everything he’d done growing up was work towards the grand plan of opening his own restaurant with Nines as his maître d’. Of course, like all best laid plans, it went out the window as soon as he was in culinary school.

There was no joy in serving small portions for extortionate prices. Catering to the whims of the obscenely rich who could only complain when the tartare of their hand dived scallops was the wrong shade. It drained him, made him wish for simpler times when the most he had to worry about was getting orders out quickly and efficiently. Connor took pride in his food and knew that what he made tasted good. Even if the colour wasn’t exactly the same as the one shown on the menu. In his opinion there was no difference between a buttermilk cream and sand dollar cream but his head chef begged to differ.

What Connor did find pleasure in was watching people take the first bite of something they really craved. The closed eyed bliss that came with the explosion of flavour followed by satisfied munching. Simply the knowledge that the people who ate his food left full and happy, that’s all Connor wanted.

It wasn’t a conversation that was easy to broach, Nines had been steadily working his way up from a simple waiter in a café to something a bit more refined. In his spare time he was learning French, Spanish, German and Chinese to try and be able to keep up with the highflyers of the world. Connor’s heart broke at the idea of making all his hard work go to waste simply because he couldn’t hack the life of a chef in a distinguished restaurant.

“Thank fuck for that,” Nines had sighed when Connor finally confided in him with teary eyes.

Rather than get angry, Nines pulled out his phone and opened up a few tabs. They were all for food trucks, how to get a licence for them and where the best local places were to sell them. Connor looked over them with wide eyes as he took it all in. How Nines knew this was coming was beyond him but he was infinitely grateful.

After his final year in culinary school, Connor graduated with a wide smile. He was picked up from the ceremony by Nines in their new truck which garnered a lot on sneering looks. Connor regally waved from the open window in the back of the truck until they were all out of sight.

They made their truck work. Nines served customers while Connor was flipping burgers behind him. Their regular plot ended up being near the airport and Nines’ language skills came in more handy than either of them had ever really imagined. It wasn’t uncommon to hear him laughing with a German family before seamlessly switching to Japanese for a businessman. Which is why Connor turned around in surprise when he heard him rather coldly say: “we don’t serve your kind here.”

“Oh come on man, I just want a burger to tide me over.”

The man standing by their truck had silver hair, was a little portly and Connor couldn’t help the little gasp when he recognised who it was.

“You’re Hank Anderson.”

“Guilty,” came the reply. “Now are you going to take my money in exchange for a lousy burger or not?”

Pride flared up in Connor’s chest and his nose scrunched. Back when he’d been in the full fever of having a restaurant, he’d dreamed of having Hank Anderson come to critique his food and getting a coveted four and a half star review. Nobody ever got five stars and Connor wasn’t so deluded to think he could buck the trend, but he aimed for four and a half. Now though, he looked at the man, took in his tired eyes with dark bags under them, hair a little greasy and unkempt. It was a world away from the photos in magazine and the one attached to his regular column.

“I can deal with him,” he stepped away from the grill and took Nines’ spot with a small smile. “What would you like, Mr. Anderson?”

“Cut the crap. Just give me the greasiest, cheesiest burger with extra bacon that you can muster up.”

“It doesn’t actually cure hangovers but I’ll get right to it,” Connor nodded.

He heard Nines scoff off to the side but paid him little attention as he got out a burger patty, some bacon and a mushroom for good measure.

A couple of minutes later, he was passing over a burger heaving with filling, grease making the paper transparent.

“Would you like anything else, Mr-”

“Hank. No Mr. anything please. And a chocolate shake would be amazing with this.”

Connor turned to Nines with a pleading look which got an eye roll in return but at least Nines turned to the machine and began to violently throw the ingredients in.

“Bad day?” Hank asked.

“I could ask you the same,” Connor smiled at him.

Food and drink handed over in exchange for money, Connor watched the man walk a little further away to one of the standing tables.

“If he dares slander us in any review…”Nines growled behind him.

His eyes were narrowed in hostility at Hank and Connor swatted his arm.

“Play nice and he might even come back.”

“I really really hope not,” Nines rolled his eyes but immediately plastered on a smile when he saw someone approaching their van.

A few weeks went by and Hank was all but forgotten in the rush of work. Tired travellers clutched their orders while those excited to be on their way happily chattered while they waited. Connor was in the middle of flipping a burger when he heard Nines’ voice.

“You again?” It came out as a low hiss and Connor turned.

He could help the smile that tugged at his lips when he saw Hank leaning against the van. At least he looked much better, there were still dark circles under his eyes but his hair was cleaner, held in a small ponytail while his clothes were a little less rumpled.

“Hello again, Hank,” Connor couldn’t help but wave a little, forgetting his spatula was still in his hand. “Same as last time?”

“Please,” Hank nodded. “They’re flying me down to Texas today, I figured anything would be better than food on the plane.”

“I’m glad our livelihoods rank so highly in your revered opinion,” Nines spat and Connor shook his head.

“Look, kid,” Hank sighed, “if you’ve got a problem with me then have the guts to say it. But I highly doubt I’m the one in the way of your deluded daydreams of doing something better than working in some grubby burger van.”

Connor put his spatula to the side and shouldered past Nines to lean over the counter.

“Mr. Anderson,” his voice was cool and measured, “this may come as a shock to you but we’re happy with our van, it is what we wanted to do. I studied at the Institute of Culinary Education for three years. If I wanted to, I could be slaving away, making tiny portions of food for equally tiny minded people in an upmarket restaurant with my brother as my maître d’. But we chose this, it makes us happy. So if you wish to continue your patronage, I would strongly suggest you keep your unsavoury opinions to yourself. Now, would you like mushroom in your burger again?”

Connor smiled so sweetly as he straightened up that Hank could only gape. Under his beard, an embarrassed flush crept up his cheeks and he nodded as words eluded him.

“Wonderful,” Connor trilled and twirled away to resume with preparing the order.

Nines took up his spot by the counter with a decidedly unfriendly smirk and began tapping away on the till.

“Was there anything else you wished to insult? Sorry, I mean order.”

“A large soda as well please,” Hank at least had enough grace to look bashful though his eyes kept flickering back to Connor.

Once again, it was Connor who handed over the food and the drink and he kept an easy smile that Hank was hard pressed not to return. He took his order away rather than camp up by one of the tables though, as Connor watched him go.

“Seriously?” Nines’ disbelieving question drew his attention. “He’s the menace of the food world, insulted us and our choices and yet you make heart eyes at him?”

“He can still be hot,” Connor shrugged. “It’s like window shopping. Admire the goods but never actually buy them.”

Nines rolled his eyes and turned away. Sometimes he just didn’t understand Connor and that probably was for the best.

“Connor, you’re up,” Nines yelled three days later over the sizzling of food on the grill.

Confused, Connor turned to look and grinned when he saw Hank approach the van.

“Couldn’t keep away?”

“I didn’t trust the airport’s sandwich selection. Please could I have the usual but with extra mustard this time?”

Connor turned to make it but twisted so he could still chat over his shoulder.

“How was Texas?”

A look of pleasant surprise flitted over Hank’s face and he breathed a soft “You remembered?”

Something cracked near Nines and the other two turned to watch him twist the broken lid of a fresh bottle of mustard back on.

“And you remembered too,” Hank added dryly.

“Just ignore Nines, he’s only grumpy because I bet him you like mustard and now he owes me a new t-shirt.”

The look Nines threw Connor could have made a dandelion wither but his brother just laughed.

“Go take a walk Nines, it’s quiet, I can handle things.”

“And leave you alone with him?” Nines jabbed a thumb in Hank’s direction. “Fat chance.”

This time, when Hank was given his food, he left his change in the tip jar and took a table closer to the van.

Connor fixed Nines with a stare and it evolved into a hushed argument while they cast Hank quick glances to make sure he wasn’t watching. From Nines’ perspective, Hank was not worthy of Connor’s attention and he hated the way the man looked at Connor. There was no denying that they got off on the wrong foot and Nines hated that if they’d followed their path into having their own restaurant, it was without a doubt Hank and others like him that would have tried to destroy Connor’s happiness with nit-picking reviews. So he bore a grudge against Hank from a life they never led but he could all too easily imagine.

“Well, I like him, okay?” Connor spat. “And it’s fine, you’ll get your way because he sure as heck has better things to do than date someone like me.”

The duality of telling Connor off for putting himself down like that paired with the need to tell him Hank would probably happily bend him over the nearest surface made Nines’ eye twitch. In the end he said nothing and stormed out of the van on the walk Connor had suggested earlier.

He didn’t anticipate bumping into Hank as he made his way back towards the taxi rank.

“Nines, right?” Hank asked.

“What’s it to you?”

In an attempt to placate him, Hank held his hands up, palms facing Nines.

“Just trying to be friendly.”

“That crap might work on Connor but I don’t buy it for one second. Now I don’t control him, but you need to know that if you so much as breath wrong around him, I will not hesitate to throw a breadknife at your head.”

Hank had the audacity to laugh at that.

“I would be worried if you didn’t. But kid, you have nothing to fear. Someone like Connor wouldn’t be interested in someone like me. I’m fully aware that the media portrays a very different image to who I actually am. All Connor would be with me is disappointed.”

Nines couldn’t believe his ears. He thought Connor was bad enough, mooning over Hank. But to have Hank self-depreciatingly wave off even the idea of Connor being into him was too much. Perhaps they really were a match made in heaven.

“You’ll need a better excuse to keep coming to see him. Our burgers are good, but not that good,” he said and turned away from Hank, ready to return to work.

Over the course of the next few months, Hank became a regular. He flew all over the country to review restaurants but he remained loyal to Connor and Nines’ burger van. It became a habit that as soon as Nines saw him approach, he’d let Connor take over the front end while he busied himself with cleaning. There was a fine line between cute and infuriating that the two danced, neither quite daring to make the first move but pushing in the hopes that the other might be braver. Some days Nines was entertained by it but others, he really wanted to knock their heads together and announce “now kiss” as obnoxiously as he could.

“I’ve been thinking about doing a burger van review of the local area,” Hank said between bites as he leaned on the lip of the counter.

Opposite him, Connor was propped up with an elbow on the counter as he smiled serenely.

“That would be quite interesting. Though I there’s less of a structure to them than a restaurant. How would you rate them?”

“Well, quality of service, quality of food, speed of food delivery. The usual stuff really. Maybe even something about the surroundings, whether there’s a place to sit down to eat or if you have to stand on a street corner and juggle your food and drink,” Hank took another large bite and hummed in delight. “You really got the mustard to ketchup ratio right in this one.”

“It’s the dash of horseradish that brings all the flavours together,” Connor nodded.

“Horseradish? In a burger? That’s a little wild.”

Connor’s head dipped as he hid his blush and a hand covered his smile. It made Nines just about ready to scrunch up the newspaper he was reading when an article caught his eyes. An interview with Hank, most of it was boring routine things but the last question asked him about his favourite place to eat.

“It’s actually a burger van. I’m not going to tell you where exactly because I want to keep them to myself. But it’s run by a pair of brothers who never cease to make me smile. One’s terrifying and the other is adorable. Their burgers are the best I’ve had because they’re so obviously made with love. It shines through, how much they enjoy the job they’ve chosen and no Michelin Star can beat that.”

Nines pushed away from the over he’d been leaning against and rudely shoved the interview under Connor’s nose, a finger tapping against the last answer. A single glance at the paper and Hank was blushing furiously and he nervously tucked his hair behind his ear.

“About that,” he tried but Connor cut him off with a small smile.

“That is the sweetest thing anybody could have ever said, thank you.”

He tore the interview out from the newspaper and tacked it to the inside of the service window where nobody but he and Nines could see.

“Were you really planning on doing a burger van tour?”

Hank shuffled his feet as he hummed and hawed. Words and sentences trickled away into nothing as he glanced up at Connor with embarrassment.

“I did mention the idea to my editor?” he finally offered.

He didn’t expect Connor to let out a small laugh and lean fully over the counter.

“Stop me if I’ve misread the situation,” he grinned and tugged Hank in for a kiss.

“Connor!” Nines yelled. “Go outside for that! Think of our hygiene rating!”

With a chuckle, Connor broke away and undid his apron, which he passed to Nines on his way out.

“As it’s a lull in business, I’m taking my lunch break early.”

Nines watched as Hank offered an arm to Connor gallantly and they both burst out giggling, meandering off to one of the benches a little further down the road where they could continue to make out like teenagers.

#hankcon #hannor #dbh: hank #dbh: connor #dbh: rk900 #human au #burger van au #dbh secret santa

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royal-raccoon · 6 years ago

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HAPPY NEW YEAR!

and a very happy new year to @mrsiriuslypadfoot !! I was your secret santa for @dbhevents. Hope you like it!!!

Reblogs > likes

Click for better quality

#dnoodles #detroit: become human #detroit: bh #detroit become human #dbh #d:bh #dbh secret santa #dbh simon #dbh markus #simarkus #markus x simon #simon x markus #hope u like it aaaaa

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statsvitenskap · 6 years ago

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Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! Here’s my @dbhevents Secret Santa gift for @the-immortal-chair. (I'm sobbing I procrastinated so this is super last minute omg)

When I think Conniel, I think of nothing but angst. Conniel fluff reminds me too much of Connor x Simon or smth, lol.

Merry Christmas, hon!

#dbh secret santa #dbhsecretsanta #dbh #detroit: bh #detroit become human #dbh connor #dbh daniel #dbh conniel #connor x daniel #conniel #dbh secret santa 2018 #dbhsecretsanta2018

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mpmwrites · 6 years ago

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Positive and Negative Preferences

Hello all! I perticipated in @dbhevents Secret Santa, and I wrote a fic for @exfriends!

This is a Reed900 Coffee Shop AU, rated T for language.

Hello darling @exfriends. I am so very sorry you had to wait this long. I’m afraid it’s entirely my fault, because I bit off more than I could chew around the holidays this year, and unfortunately that led to quite the delay. I also want to apologize that I didn’t go exactly with what you requested. I saw that you liked other types of AUs and this kind of just clicked into place for me. (But if it’s really not your thing, I’d be happy to write something new. You deserve a great gift!) Here’s hoping you enjoy.

Also a thanks to @the-writing-of-a-gay-idiot for giving me so much feedback!

On with the show!

It wasn't that he wanted to be an asshole. Really, he knew he was an asshole, and could see himself acting it out in real time, but he had absolutely no reason to try to be better. Part of it was the coffee thing. He'd hardly slept in college, and became a six-cup-a-day person, and he'd rarely admit it, but he was even worse without caffeine. So, nearly fifteen years later, he figured that if coffee was gonna keep him from getting fired for shitting on someone stupid, he could be addicted to worse things.

When the android behind the counter suggested that he was their most frequent customer, he shrugged. Most days, he came in three times: on the way to work, on lunch, and before catching the bus home. Large coffee, nonfat milk, and one sugar. Of course it was always perfectly sweetened, perfectly steaming, because it was an android who made it, and most days he didn’t even have to say his order before Richard was ringing him up with a smile.

He never stayed, preferring to take his coffee back to work or drink it on the bus so he could enjoy it in relative privacy. He wasn't much interested in sitting around while the 20-somethings giggled their way through their overly-sweet lattes, and certainly wasn't going to indulge in some calorie-laden baked goods when he could get something healthier and cheaper just about anywhere else. He could take his day home and tell his cat about all of the fucked up shit he saw in the world.

His birthday, however, brought on a whole new series of shitty feelings about being alone and being 37 with his only friend as his cat. He told himself he had friends. That he wasn't alone. That someone might care if he wasn't around. By the time he headed to the coffee shop after work, he was feeling worse than he did when he woke up that morning.

"Good afternoon, Gavin." Rich smiled as he passed the usual green paper cup over the counter. "Did you have a pleasant rest of the day?" Pleasant. Yeah. The same question he asked every other afternoon receive the same answer Gavin always gave him: a shrug and a half smile. As he turned to leave, Gavin's eyes settled on an empty table by the window at the front of the café. There was only one chair. He thought about his apartment, and sitting alone, probably ordering some indulgent junk food as a gift for himself, and falling asleep to the nightly weather report; waking up with a stiff neck before finally dragging himself to his actual bed.

He sat down at the table.

He nursed his coffee as he listened in to strangers conversations and flipped through social media on his phone. When he'd drained the last drop, he sat the cup down with a hollow noise and looked out the window. The sun had set mostly and headlights glared against the window was cars moved down the street. The bus passed; Gavin had at least 15 minutes until the next one. He took a breath and wiggled the empty cup against the table, listening to the noise it made and wondering why he had nothing better to do on his own damn birthday other than sit alone in a coffee shop.

"You come to get coffee, three times a day, five days a week." Richard said as he approached the table carefully, "And have done so for at least the thirty seven weeks I've been employed here. This is the first time you've ever stayed." He observed, sitting down a new, steaming coffee. It was in a black ceramic mug.

Gavin looked up at him blankly, not having an answer to the statement, "Uh, yeah." He fumbled.

"I've been wondering why, if I may ask." Richard offered a small, awkward smile.

"I guess…" Gavin paused to summon a reason as he fished his wallet out of his back pocket, "Well, It's my birthday, I didn't want to be alone." He explained quietly, suddenly embarrassed by the concept. He wondered why he even felt the need to answer, much less with such a vulnerable truth.

"In that case, I'm very glad to have your company." The barista's words were formal, but tinted with something genuine. He waved a dismissive hand as Gavin made to hand him a few bills for the refill. "Consider it a thank you for your loyalty." Richard said, before moving away to tend the counter once again.

Gavin stayed past the next bus, and then a few more, until it was completely dark outside. When he finally had a renewed thought to leave, the rest of the café was already empty. Richard was milling about, wiping down tables and pushing in chairs as Gavin stood and took the mug to the counter. When he turned to the door, Richard followed, rescuing something from the counter as he hastened to catch up. As Gavin laid his hand on the door handle, Richard was behind him, reaching over his shoulder to flick open the lock, "I lock the door after closing." He explained.

"Closing? When did you close?"

"Eleven minutes ago." Richard smiled, holding out the green paper bag he'd taken from the counter. "This is for you. I usually compost the remaining baked goods, but I didn't see the harm in giving you a birthday treat, especially after you hadn't eaten all evening."

Gavin took in that fraction of a smile that Rich always served him alongside his coffee. He held a good five or so inches over Gavin, but was at least just as muscular if not more so that Gavin was. It pinged in Gavin's mind that it was all artificial, that he'd been designed to be handsome and perfect, but the realization of his appeal struck Gavin all the same. Richard was good looking, had been keeping track of Gavin's visits, and was some kind of concerned for his nutritional well-being.

The idea of Richard's regard for him was unexpected, and came with a small tilt of Gavin's chin before he realized he was leaving. "Uh, I'm sorry for keeping you. Thanks for letting me stay." Gavin said as he remembered to be a semi-decent person.

"You're welcome to stay as long as you please." Richard reminded him, holding the door open to the cool fall night.

-----

Gavin transferred paperwork to his portable the following afternoon, toting it with him to the coffee shop. He worked his way through it over his usual coffee and left cash next to his empty cup that Richard didn't take when he quietly left his refill. He waited until the last customer left and checked the time. Fifteen minutes before closing, Richard was idling behind the counter.

"Your boss can't be letting you just keep giving me free coffee." Gavin proclaimed as he brought up the empty mug and left behind cash.

"We offer a complimentary refill to guests who choose to dine in." Richard explained lightly. He watched Gavin curiously. Gavin offered a small snort of amusement,

"You're telling me I come in here and pay for three cups a day when I could just stay and only pay for two?" He grinned wryly.

"I suppose you could, but then, how would you earn the money to pay for those two cups?" Richard took the mug and turned around to put it on the counter next to a small sink. "Despite our appreciation of your patronage, I'd think that you'd be more valued if you continued working."

"I think you overestimate my abilities as a cop." Gavin leaned on the counter slightly.

"Well, I'd prefer that you never have an opportunity to prove me wrong." Richard smiled, and maybe Gavin was looking differently, but his smile seemed more genuine than it did when he normally ordered his coffee. He vaguely noticed a light shutting off outside the shop, prompting Richard's LED to throw a blip of yellow before being summarily returned to blue.

"I guess that means it's closing time." Gavin sighed, pushing away from the counter. He turned to leave, but turned back and leaned his whole torso over the counter, slipping the payment intended for coffee into Richard's apron pocket. "Call it a tip." he offered an awkward wink.

"Gavin, as an android, I am not permitted to have personal finances." Richard's smile was gone as he extracted the bills with a slow movement.

"Well, I'm not taking it back. Who's arresting you?" He shrugged, retreating toward the door with a cocky smile.

-----

The rest of the week continued on in that way; Gavin sat at the cafe for hours, and would chat amicably with the android barista once the shop was empty save for them. He left at closing every night with a smile and occasionally with a sugary treat in hand.

Gavin knew he was fooling himself. After all, and android couldn't have more personal feelings toward him than any other being; human, android, or otherwise. Still, he made himself get up and go to work each day with the prospect of a fresh cup and one free refill after. Companionship from anyone other than his cat was more than he deserved, he figured, but at least Richard was someone he could talk to. Sure, they never talked about anything with any kind of weight, but it was better than talking to himself in the quiet of his apartment.

He let himself believe that it was something like friendship.

So, when Richard leaned across the counter and kissed him, time stopped. Not in a stupid romantic comedy way, but in a way that shook Gavin to his core in self doubt. Richard was an android. Richard couldn't feel anything toward him. He shouldn't have felt anything for a walking, talking computer. He decided not to.

"What the hell?" Gavin's face contorted in confusion and offense when the android pulled away. He waited for an answer as Richard's LED spun to yellow then red and back.

"I am sorry, Gavin, I must have misunderstood your intentions." He stared at Gavin for a long moment before busying himself with tidying the counter.

"My intentions?" Gavin sputtered, failing to assume an appropriate reaction.

"My social protocols interpreted your new interest in being at the café and consistent attempts at companionship as a wish to enter into a romantic relationship." Richard explained. We offer a complimentary refill to guests who choose to dine in.

"Oh." Gavin dismissed the offence and remained pensive. "You're an android. You don't have feelings, especially not for humans." He drew. Richard froze and his LED looked like it was trying to send a distress signal. Eventually, he answered.

"That is correct." He mentioned, though it sounded more like a realization than a confirmation. Somehow, Gavin felt a little hurt.

"Well, I'll see you tomorrow." Gavin offered, leaving his mug and retreating quietly.

-----

"Good morning, what can I get you?" Gavin stared at the android taking his order. It wasn't Richard, but a female who looked young and had red curls framing her face. He couldn't see an LED, but the blue armband was telling enough.

"Uh, large coffee, nonfat milk, one sugar. To go." He told her, baffled by her presence. He paid her and she turned away to prepare his order. "Do you know what happened to Richard?" He said casually.

"Richard was found to be malfunctioning, I am his replacement." She didn't seem fazed as she set his cup on the counter.

"Oh. Is he going to be back?"

"I'm not sure, I'm sorry." She offered a kind smile, and moved on to the next customer. When he came back at lunch, she was still there, and in the afternoon too. He didn't stay.

Richard didn't return in the following days, and Gavin stopped coming in early for his coffee, and didn't bother to prolong his commute for the stop either. Two weeks later, he'd begun to favor the coffee shop closer to work for his lunch breaks, and let thoughts fade of his usual place.

It wasn't that their coffee was any better; he just couldn't find the effort to go out of his way to go to the old place anymore. It was different. It didn't feel like his place anymore, and he couldn't much find a reason why. Suzie's was closer anyway; only a block walk from the station, even if the coffee wasn't quite as good, the convenience made up for it.

Not to mention, the less time he spent walking, the more time he could spend working, and with the elevated counts of rogue androids in the city he was needed more than ever. Rumors of an uprising and of feeling androids whispered through the city, though he didn't pay them any mind. A fantasy of robots with feelings didn't make their human victims any less dead, or homicide any more legal. Still, every once in a while, the memory of that long moment of hesitation and the flickering of Richard's LED had him wondering if all rumors had root in truth after all. He tried not to dwell on it. Realistically, Richard had either been 'decommissioned' or 'recalibrated' and in either case, there was no reason for him to be anywhere on Gavin's radar anymore.

Malfunctioning, the replacement had said. Malfunctioning, like he had a glitch or dropped too many dishes or messed up customers orders. Malfunctioning, like giving away free pastries after closing time. Malfunctioning, like misinterpreting the actions of a pathetically lonely detective.

It was raining the night he followed Anderson into Carlos Ortiz's home, where the murder had taken place. They milled around, looking at eerily lit evidence and the filth of a drug addict's dwelling, until Gavin thought to look up and had Hank help him climb into the attic.

He interrogated an android, and suddenly it was all too real. There was blue blood all over the table, and he could still hear the android's panicked ramblings long after he was dismissed for the night. He walked for a while, and while the rain had stopped the sidewalk was still wet enough for his shoes to be soaked through. Ortiz's android felt. It was scared and stressed and confused, and those were all decidedly things that it had not been programmed to be.

His legs took him to the old coffee shop, and as he moved inside to get some fuel and clear his mind a little, he thought he saw Richard for a brief moment. He rubbed his eyes, figuring he was more tired than he realized, then looked back up to the counter. Sure enough, Richard was standing there, staring.

"Large coffee, nonfat milk, one sugar. To go." Gavin breathed slowly, not making eye contact. Richard stalled before turning away and grabbing an already prepared cup from the back counter and handing it over.

"You're Gavin." He said.

"Yeah, that's me, tin can." Gavin couldn't help but smile at the sound of his own name as he passed over his payment and took the cup.

"Enjoy." Richard offered plainly, watching Gavin with a serene expression until Gavin turned slowly and left.

It was awkward. Gavin figured if Richard had been human, he couldn't have expected much more than some kind of fumbling awkwardness remaining from their last encounter. But, Richard wasn't human, and he'd said Gavin's name like it meant nothing to him. He'd had Gavin's coffee waiting, even though Gavin hadn't been there in months, and it wasn't really hot anymore, like it'd been sitting there for a while. There had been no indication that Richard remembered, though, and Gavin knew there was no chance that he would have been returned to work without some kind of reformation for his 'malfunction'.

He wasn't going to let himself be pulled into all of it again. Richard wasn't human; he wasn't Gavin's friend or his anything. Customer files had been left in his system, probably. He'd seen Gavin walking down the street and just remembered a formerly regular customer and their order, and while Gavin was musing over his wet shoes, he made the order. He didn't owe Richard his company just because he memorized his order like any other regular customer's. He couldn't force friendship on a service bot that couldn't say no, and, yeah, he was kind of an asshole for doing it in the first place.

A pathetic asshole.

-----

He propped his feet on his desk as he reasoned with himself over a game of solitaire on his phone. He had no reason to feel rejected, he had no reason to feel even more lonely than he did on his birthday. He had no reason to ignore the cup from Rosie's because of any of it, either. He let himself get lost in his game and refused to think about all the mushy stuff that made up the smaller parts of Gavin. He shut himself off so completely that he didn't notice one of the station androids hovering next to his desk.

"Detective Reed?" She reasoned, and when he didn't answer, she reached a hand out to his shoulder and repeated herself, making Gavin jump at the contact.

"Fuck, what do you want?!" He barked at her, dropping his feet and straightening defensively.

"There is someone here, in the lobby, requesting to see you personally. It is an android. They said you ordered delivery."

"I didn't order anything. Must be malfunctioning--"

Malfunctioning, like making a coffee for a customer that didn't come anymore.

Gavin stood, though frowning, and followed her back to the receptionist's desk. There, behind it, stood Richard.

"Gavin, I was wondering if you had a moment to talk." He was holding a coffee, steam piping out of the little vent on the top.

"Yeah, I got time." Gavin shrugged, letting himself be led outside. It was brisk, but sunny. The fresh air brightened him a little.

"I was recalibrated to correct processing malfunctions in my system four months and three weeks ago." Richard stated abruptly as he faced Gavin."I had made an inappropriate gesture to a customer, and my owners were concerned that I had been affected by deviancy. I was returned to work three weeks later." He was practically rambling, if his speech hadn't sounded so formal and calculated. "Every day since then, I have made this same coffee, four times a day, without being prompted to." He held out the cup to Gavin. Gavin took it slowly, watching Richard carefully. "I am afraid I lied to you."

"Lied to me?" Gavin gaped at the sudden change of context. "Androids can't lie." he demanded.

"Deviant androids can." Richard posed, scrutinizing Gavin's expression. "And to correct the mistruth I told you: some androids have feelings, and certainly can have feelings for humans." He admitted. Gavin waited for further explanation and received nothing.

"You're saying that you have feelings?"

"Since I've no prior experience to go on, it's hard for me to process, but I do know I have both positive and negative preferences for arbitrary things." He explained. He looked nervous. "For example, I do not like cleaning up spilled drinks. I do not like the idea of being recalibrated again. I do like being in your presence."

"So you brought me free coffee now? For what? Because you like seeing me?"

"My owners were not pleased that I continued making drinks for customers that did not exist. They were going to send me back to Cyberlife to be fully decommissioned. I… I didn't want to die." His LED shone yellow for a quick moment. "I knew that If I was dead, I wouldn’t be able to see you again, and I did not want that. The idea caused forty-two separate system errors."

"Because of fuckin' me?" Gavin frowned. He wasn't worth that, and he knew it.

"Entirely because of the concept of not seeing you again. I could not let that happen, so I made your coffee, paid for it, and left."

"You bought me a coffee." Gavin felt like the king of intelligent responses. "How? Why?" Richard hesitated for a long moment

"Well, a very kind customer tipped me generously once, despite my protests." He flashed that genuine smile again, as Gavin took a sip of the, as usual, perfectly made coffee. "And I've since learned, that an appropriate way of initiating a romantic relationship is to buy your interest a meal or beverage."

"Gavin choked "Jesus, fuck that's hot." He whimpered, forcing himself to swallow the scalding drink.

"I did make it extra hot so it would still be warm when I got it to you."

"Well, mission accomplished." Gavin grumbled, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

"Gavin, I really would like to take you on a date." Richard frowned at the lack of response to his admission.

"Well, I'm working right now. Not off 'til four." He shrugged dismissively. No need to refuse when he didn't have a choice in working.

"Oh." His tone dropped the confidence Gavin had never noticed, but only knew of now that it was gone. "I suppose I shouldn't have presumed. Thank you for indulging me, I hope I didn't interrupt your day too much."

"I didn't say no." Gavin piped up, hit with a pang of guilt. "I get coffee after work too." He could feel himself flushing, "Maybe I can buy you a cup?"

"Gavin, I have no need for food or drink."

"Then maybe you can just come so I can have some company?" Gavin tried for a small smile, despite feeling like an absolute idiot.

"I would like that."

#reed900 #gavin x rk900 #dbh fanfic #dbhevents #secret santa #fanfic #coffee shop au #gift #dbh secret santa #dbh secret santa 2018

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hapgen · 6 years ago

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DBH Secret Santa!

Hey @connorssock! I’m sorry that it took so long for me to post this, technical difficulties during the holiday season is never a joy. However, I hope that you enjoy this little one-shot I put together for you:

Title: Joy to the World

Word Count: 1999

Pairing: HankCon

Summary: Connor rubbed his hands together, trying to take his mind off of those penetrating thoughts by concentrating on the texture of his new leather gloves. Hank had given him these gloves as a Christmas present, even though he wasn't gifted them until December 27th. It was a late night, both of them were sitting in front of the television, the idea of holidays and Christmas escaping their thoughts.

Author’s Note: Thank you to the amazing people at @dbhevents for putting this event together! It’s been a blast!

Connor loved being a detective at the Detroit Police Department (after all, that’s what he was created for), but he couldn’t help but feel. . . odd, about his situation. An interesting and clenching feeling was all he felt in his chest (he shouldn’t be feeling anything there, he didn’t have the same muscle and brain connections that a human did) and it made him worry. Was something wrong with him that he couldn’t detect? Scan after scan, diagnosis after diagnosis- everything had come up pristine.

Then what was this feeling?

Connor rubbed his hands together, trying to take his mind off of those penetrating thoughts by concentrating on the texture of his new leather gloves. Hank had given him these gloves as a Christmas present, even though he wasn't gifted them until December 27th. It was a late night, both of them were sitting in front of the television, the idea of holidays and Christmas escaping their thoughts because of the nasty legislative war going on in Congress. Apparently, protests across the country were skewing the desperately needed votes, slowing down the legislative process.

Hank had been grumbling to himself the entire evening as he nursed a bottle of beer (a cheaper version, because Hank had a few fines to pay after assaulting a government employee), watching the television with narrowed eyes. Hank had made his views on this whole situation quite clear- androids had free will, and so did humans- hence, androids deserved the same rights, liberties, and protections that a human had.

(Those stickers on Hank’s desk disappeared awfully quickly after the Detroit Tower incident.)

Connor crossed his legs, attempting to find a comfortable position to sit in. Just sitting in his usual formal way was not working for him anymore (stress, anxiety, worry- everything that was what the internet said his jitteriness pointed to). Hank said that he had to try and relax (“For once in your damned life, Con.”), so Connor took that advice in stride.

And completely failed at it.

Hank turned and looked at Connor, his eyes looking softer despite his eyebrows being pinched together. He swirled the bottle around and cleared his throat, “Why are you doing that?”

“Doing what?” Connor knew exactly what Hank meant, but he wanted to have a little fun. Today had been a rough day, and according to many of the leading scientists in the psychiatric field, humor was the perfect way to heal any emotional worries.

Grumbling curses under his breath, Hank leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He blindly rested the half-empty bottle on the foldable table next to him (how he did so, Connor didn’t know- Hank must have had a lot of practice).

“You know, Con, I’ve been thinking-” Hank began, but held a hand up as soon as Connor opened his mouth, “don’t say it, I will kick your ass out of this house in a heartbeat.”

Connor sighed, “Okay, Hank.” He shifted his legs into an awkward criss-cross applesauce, feeling even more uncomfortable than before.

(He definitely wasn’t going to say: “That’s a first,” because Connor admired and trusted Hank, but. . . he oftentimes did make irrational decisions by choosing not to think, but to just act. It was oddly attractive.)

Hank rolled his eyes. They were such an icy blue. Like the blue on that one princess’ dress in that singing movie everyone hated. Connor loved Hank’s eyes. They seemed so much more emotive than the rest of him. Even if Hank tried his hardest to hide any pain, fear, or happiness, Connor learned to look at the dilation of his pupils and the wrinkles around his eyes. Everything about Hank was so raw. So. . . human.

He wondered if Hank did things like that with him? He had removed his LED not too long after the commotion earlier that year, and Connor knew that it was the one thing that gave away his emotions to Hank.

“So, you know that fidget thing you do? The squirming and shit? The coins and tie-fumbling?” Hank said, adjusting his position on the couch. The springs were a little old at this point. They needed a new couch.

Connor blinked, “Yes, but I wouldn’t call it fidgeting, per say. It’s to help calibrate certain functions in my systems.” He paused, looking away from Hank’s gaze, “. . .it doesn’t bother you, does it?”

“God, Con, that would never bother me enough to ask you to stop, fuck.” Hank looked perturbed. Connor guessed that he miscalculated that thought. “I just- You usually do stuff with you hands, right?”

“I usually don’t calibrate with my feet, Hank, so yes, I use my hands.”

“You know what I fucking meant, Jesus.” He rubbed his face, looking both amused and annoyed at once. Connor loved that expression on Hank’s features. It was heartwarming.

Hank continued while Connor chuckled, struggling to contain his own laughter, “So- so do your hands ever get, I don’t know, cold?”

Connor immediately stopped laughing and squinted his eyes, “I don’t have the same temperature receptors that you do, Hank. I can adjust them. I can feel cold, warm, or hot whenever I want.”

“Wonder when they’ll make something like that for humans to wear,” Hank grumbled before reaching for something underneath the couch. “Now, I know that you have all that fancy engineering inside of you, but in case they stop working for some fucking reason-”

Connor looked at the rectangular package deposited in his lap. It was crudely wrapped with green paper, a cheap dollar store bow placed in the top corner. He blinked at the package, then glanced back up to look at Hank.

“. . .this is a lovely box, thank you, Hank. I’ll treasure it forever.”

Hank looked constipated, “Holy shit, Con, it’s a present, open the box.” No, not constipated, just irritated. But, the good kind of irritated, Connor supposed.

Timidly, Connor began to open the wrapped container, prying a finger underneath the folds of the paper. He gently tore it off, beginning to feel this tight, warm feeling in his chest as set the paper aside. The box was plain, made of cardboard, processed in China- and it held something inside. Connor felt giddy. His hands vibrated as he opened the box, revealing a pair of-

A pair of gloves.

They were faux leather, Connor could tell that much, but they looked divine. The stitching was simple and clean (and tight, Connor noticed, so they were of decent quality), and, as he found out when he slipped the pair on, there was a soft layer of faux fur inside. He hands felt delightfully encased in warmth, his sensors tingling with the texture on his skin. Connor looked up at Hank with wide eyes, absolutely awestruck with the perfection of the gift.

Hank looked sheepish, “Back in the day I used to be, uh, fidgety, too. I liked having something on my hands, cause it just. . . felt better, I guess? Fuck.” He rubbed the back of his neck, and Connor detected his raised heart rate and warmth spreading across his upper body.

Connor smiled softly, rubbing his fingers together through the material of the gloves, “I love them. They’re perfect. Thank you, Hank.”

“Glad you like them.”

Connor sighed quietly after reconstructing that memory. It felt like a lifetime ago, despite it only being two weeks after the event. The gloves were now snug on his hands, practically becoming a second skin. He didn’t go anywhere without the gloves on his hands, and he only took them off when he got home or had to analyze evidence.

(“Well shit,” Hank said, crossing his arms in mock anger as Connor knelt next to a victim’s body, “I was hoping those gloves would curb that licking fetish you have, guess I’ll have to come up with something else.”) Growing impatient, Connor checked the time- it was half past one. Hank was late. Again. For the third time in a row. Why Hank thought it was a good idea to leave him waiting at a crime scene to go, and he quoted, “check out the new food truck down the road, he’ll be back in ten minutes,” Connor had no idea.

He looked down both sides of the snow-covered road, turning up his heating systems as the temperature continued to drop. Flurries fell harder, the wind picked up, and cars speeding along the road became few and far between. Connor found himself grumbling some unsavory words under his breath, letting the artificial steam from his heating systems out of his mouth. He rubbed his hands together, focusing on the fuzz inside of the gloves. 99% of the material inside the gloves was a pollutant to the environment, but at least the leather itself wasn’t actually. . . real.

The beaming headlights from down the road caught Connor’s attention. Along with the visual cues, his above-average hearing also detecting some less-than-savory lyrics and drums coming from the stereo inside the vehicle. Connor sighed to himself (a truly unnecessary thing, but new emotions come with new habits), and walked towards the passenger side of the car as it rolled to a stop.

He opened the door, unsurprised to see a sheepish looking Hank. At least he had the guts to feel embarrassed.

“Sorry ‘bout that, Connor. I could barely see with this blizzard. You alright?” Hank asked, jacking the heat in the old car up a few notches.

Connor immediately felt a difference, the snow that had piled on top of his head beginning to melt. Even his heating systems could keep his thirium from close to freezing levels, so he was thankful for the blast of hot air. He was probably soaked to the artificial bone, but it wasn’t an issue. He wasn’t actually mad at Hank. Just. . . a little miffed.

“I’m fine. Just a little cold.” Connor answered, peeling off the damp gloved.

Hank pursed his lips together, his eyes glancing in between Connor’s bare hands and the icy road in front of him. He turned the stereo down a few ticks, before clearing his throat. “So. . . that place on the corner was pretty good. They have some neat stuff.” He said, gesturing to the cup holders in between the seats.

Connor looked down at the two disposable cups and tilted his head. “I’m surprised they’re open in this storm.”

“Believe me, I was surprised, too. Got a discount for being on the force, and they gave me a large coffee for the price of a medium. Real nice.” Hank scratched his beard, idly tapping the steering wheel, “They also some stuff for androids there. ‘Dunno how it works, but I’d thought you’d like to try it.”

“You got me a drink?” Connor said, a lilt of awe in his voice. He picked up the smaller, closer cup and gently popped off the lid, looking at the blue contents inside. “It looks like thirium.”

Hank shrugged, “I said that you were waiting outside for me and I wished I could bring you something back. The guy at the counter apparently had a friend- and android- that invented this stuff.” He pulled into the driveway and set the car to park before turning to look at Connor.

“Well? You gonna try it?”

Connor hummed, smiling softly at Hank. He leaned forward and place a light peck on Hank’s lips, mumbling a quiet thank you. As Hank chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck, Connor took a sip of drink.

“Hank. . .”

Still on the high of getting some affection, Hank sighed, “Yeah, Con?”

Connor pursed his lips together and glared at the drink, “This tastes like shit.”

They both looked at the offending cup before beginning to laugh at the absurdity of it all: a thirium drink, leather gloves, late Christmas gifts. . . What an odd little world they lived in, and how joyful Connor thought it was. Maybe that was the clenching, tight feeling in his chest- the contentment and love he felt with Hank by his side.

#dbh secret santa #my writing #dbh #hankcon #hannor #I know there's a few people that follow me that do not like hankcon and I apologize!

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dbhevents · 6 years ago

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We’re glad to announce the first phase of our Secret Santa event! Between the 13th of October and the 20th of November, we’ll be accepting participant applications for this event.

A few important things to note out:

We’ll be putting up a FAQ and rules post later on this week.

We’ll be contacting you in the days following the closing of the sign-up period with the details of your recipient.

#detroit become human #secret santa #hankcon #reed900 #simkus #dbh #rk800 #connor dbh #hank anderson #gavin reed #rk900 #simon #markus #north #josh #quantic dreams #gaming #dbh secret santa #notice

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commander-vas-normandy · 6 years ago

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I don’t have a better place to put writing, so I’ll put this under a cut so as to not clog up anyone’s feeds, but Merry Christmas @iocane7 ! Sorry it’s a little late, but I was your person for the @dbhevents secret santa event!!

It was that time of the year again. Christmas. But it was different this year. Every time before had been as a servant to humans, shopping with no credit or thanks given if they had even been in a household that celebrated Christmas to begin with. This year they could truly enjoy the holidays and celebrate their new-found emotions with their newfound friends and family. The looks of wonder on their faces at the sights of snow on colored lights and trees decorated just for them was a sight to see. Being deviant had put a brand-new perspective on the old traditions they had seen before and finally partaking in them was a new level of excitement, even if they fumbled with some of them…like mistletoe.

“And voila. The apartment is finally finished. And just in time for everyone to come over. This is the last time we wait until last minute to decorate.” Markus stepped back from the Christmas tree in the living room of his and Josh’s shared apartment with a satisfied grin as he took in their hard work. He turned to look at his roommate when he heard shuffling in a box and Josh pulled out a small thing of green, plastic leaves and white berries with a grin. “What’s that?”

“It’s called mistletoe. If you catch someone under it then you’re supposed to kiss them. I used to watch people chase their friends around with it and now I’m thinking it’s your chance to finally snag a kiss from Simon.” The mischievous grin on Josh’s face was enough to worry Markus without what he said to go with it.

“No, no, no, no, no. I’m not doing that. Do you know how bad I’d embarrass myself if I tried that? I mean, come on, Simon doesn’t even like me like that.” Blue tinted Markus’s cheeks at the thought of kissing Simon and even moreso of kissing Simon in front of everyone and potentially embarrassing himself. The last thing he needed was to somehow push Simon away. He had feelings for his friend for sure, but he’d rather it be unknowingly one-sided rather than ruin a perfectly good friendship.

His mind was suddenly racing with ways it could go wrong when Josh bust out into a fit of laughter, doubled over and shaking his head. When he stood back up, he jokingly wiped away a tear. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Simon? Not like you back? Markus. Tell me. Are you seriously that blind? Even Connor can see it and you know how oblivious he can be about that kind of stuff. If you kissed him, he’d probably thank you for making the first move.”

“I’m not doing it. I’m not taking that chance. It’d be suicide. And honestly, I’d probably get sick before I could actually do anything.”

“You know that’s not possible, right?”

“Yes, but my point still stands.” Markus turned away, rubbing his face. “I can lead a revolution but can’t admit feelings to someone.”

Before Josh could even rebuttal there was a knock at the door and he went to answer it while Markus composed himself. North practically let herself in, Simon and Connor in tow with everyone’s gifts in their arms. They dropped them under the newly finished tree and Simon smiled at Markus.

“Seems you really went all out on decorating. It looks good.” Simon smiled at Markus who was still recovering from the mental image of kissing his best friend in front of everyone.

“Oh, uh, yeah. It was mostly Josh. I just handed him things.” Markus chuckled sheepishly, only half looking at Simon during the conversation. He didn’t understand why he was so nervous, but he was, and it was suddenly making this Christmas party almost unbearable. He spent almost every day either with or talking to Simon and yet, here he was, nervous as all hell.

“At least you helped. North came over to help me decorate and I’m pretty sure she just sat on the floor watching Christmas movies the whole time. I don’t know why I’m surprised if I’m being honest.” Simon chuckled with a shake of his head. Despite being opposites, he and North had become pretty good friends and it was hard to find them separated for too long. And little did Markus know, Josh was the only ribbing them to do something.

“I will literally push them together if that’s what it takes.” North stood across the room with Josh, watching Simon and Markus talk.

“I think you two are just going to make matters worse, if I’m being honest. They’ll get to it when they get to it, we can’t force them to realize they’re being painfully oblivious.” Connor stepped into the conversation from the kitchen. “We don’t want to scare them into it.”

“No, you don’t want to scare them into it. They’re making themselves miserable being all ‘Poor me. Does he like me? Does he not? Whatever will I do?” North put the back of her hand to her forehead, feigning passing out into Josh’s arms.

“Extra as always.” Josh rolled his eyes despite chuckling at her act. “They’ll come around. They just need reassurance. And if you’re thinking what I’m thinking, then I think mistletoe done correctly could be that reassurance.”

Connor shook his head and left them to plan whatever scheme they were trying to conjure up and went to sit by the tree, inspecting a particularly intricate ornament as he waited for the others to get the hint to join him for presents. He watched as Markus took a seat on the arm of the couch, allowing Simon to take a seat. There was no ignoring the gentle look they gave each other and yet they were both in denial that the other could like them. It was sweet and sickening at the same time and Connor just hoped North and Josh didn’t ruin it near Christmas of holidays.

Simon found himself leaning ever so slightly against Markus as they all sat down to exchange gifts. He was usually the quieter and more reserved one of the group, but this time he was feeling a little more bold as he let his touches linger a little longer than usual, allowed himself to get closer and stay closer, but while he felt more bold he still was afraid to push it without validation. For now, he was just hoping for some sort of Christmas miracle.

“And! The last gift of the night, from one Mr. Markus to everyone’s favorite blond.” Josh snatched up a small box from under the tree and Simon looked to Markus before taking it, but the look on Markus’s face said he had no idea what was in that box. Josh knew. North knew. It was their last second plan they managed to sneak in without the other androids being aware.

Markus shot Josh a look and his friend just smiled as Simon worked the ribbon off a small red and green box. He didn’t know what to expect and his heart was racing in his chest. What if this ruined the day? How was Josh so certain everything would be okay that he would risk this in front of everyone? How would Simon react? Was North in on this? Connor? Were they all that okay with taking a risk of ruining a friendship? Was he maybe just really overthinking this? What if it was actually nothing? But the risk was still high enough that it would certainly turn into something. He would kill Josh for this.

He finally managed to tear himself away from his own whirlwind of thoughts to pay attention as Simon lifted the lid off the box to reveal nothing more than green leaves with little white plastic berries.

Mistletoe. It was a box of mistletoe and while they both processed what and why, North reached into the box between them and held it up between them with a smirk as she waited for them to get the hint. Before Markus could even react, apologize or get angry or anything, Simon took this as his Christmas miracle and leaned forward to kiss Markus. He was always slightly shyer than the rest, but not this time. This was the confirmation he needed. Simon started to pull away when he thought Markus was going to kiss back, but the other man gently reached to hold his hand while his other hand reached up to rest on his cheek. Maybe they had been that oblivious after all if this was going as well as it was.

Once they finally pulled away as to not make things awkward for the others in the room, they glanced around to see the others grinning like idiots. Needless to say, mission accomplished.

“Merry Christmas?” Markus chuckled sheepishly as he looked back to Simon who was genuinely smiling in a mix of so many overwhelming emotions.

“Merry Christmas.”

#Liam writes #dbhevents #dbh secret santa #simarkus #simon x markus #iocane7

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