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8-rae-rae-8 · 9 months ago

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Regress, Reblog, Regret, Reward.

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Gavin Reed runs a blog for his mental health, specifically his age regression. A certain RK900 finds it.

1/?

3k words

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Gavin never wanted a caregiver of any sort, the most self sufficient he’d ever felt was when he was regressing. The lack of worries over work, not having to share a space… He happily, and easily, took care of himself. He found it to be his main coping strategy once he learned everything that could be learned about it, influence from an old therapist sealed the deal. One coping mechanism he found that worked consistently.

As common as ‘tantrums’ were with him, they successfully got out all the negatives and left him feeling better. Crying, kicking, shouting.. It worked and it didn’t hurt the ones he was close to, or used to be close to. He had his moments still, of course. But his coworkers didn’t get the brute of it. The less disciplinary files he had the better. It all worked in his favor.

Over the years, he had started a blog on a site he had already regularly used. Something centered around his regression specifically. Not knowing anyone who coped in the same way, he was determined to find others and settle into a nice community. It took more time than he’d like to admit to block as many NSFW tags and accounts as he could, and blocking more as they popped up. He was cautious. More times than not, he’d scroll his phone on the age regression tags while he was regressing. Just to get that feeling of togetherness in the times he was completely alone, which was a lot of the time. He knew he shouldn’t, really, because of his fragile state of mind and the possibility of coming across triggering content. But aside from shows, toys, and a few games, he didn’t have much.

He was fine being alone, though, even if it picked at him sometimes. That bit of loneliness could sting like a motherfucker on hard nights. Nights were he would debate between a pacifier, a calm show, and smoking some weed for a break from the weight he carried on his shoulders. Sometimes he’d do all three to alleviate the stress for even a few minutes. The weed helped loosen him up most times, but if he had more than his usual, he’d get paranoid. Checking windows, seeing things from the corner of his eyes. Usually he would catch on before it got bad, other times he would sit in an anxious haze, then go get his pacifier and lay in a lit room with his stuffed animal that he had deemed his protector. A teddy with a gold crown, a shield and a sword. Something an old friend got him from build-a-bear. Someone he had trusted deeply, then broke that trust. Even still, he loved that plush.

The blogged helped that sort of loneliness. With the asks he received, the replies and other interactions let him breathe in a sense of belonging that he thought he had lost many years ago. He grew close with a few of the people on there, the ones he interacted with most. They had a small group of mutuals. As he had learned more, he was very happily accepted into being a little sort of sibling group with them. It was as close as he’d gotten to a family again in a long while. And as he grew a bit more popular, he got comfortable messaging with people he didn’t quite know. But he never messaged or posted while regressed, a rule that was mostly to protect himself.

Those sessions of interacting with followers became more often the more relaxed he got on the site. He, of course, refused to show his face or name whatsoever. He posted under the name ‘little-forest-cub’, with nothing to allude to his job, name or location. But it was inspired by one of his favorite nicknames when small. He’s just a little bear, a small cub. Sometimes people questioned if he was a pet regressor as well with all the bear themed things, and would usually respond with a simple ‘i don’t know’ when he knew he probably did.

Never once did he tell anyone about any of this at work, the only person that hardly knew barely showed up anymore, even with the addition of the plastic prick- Connor, though he had noticed the difference he had made. It was important that they didn’t know. He was always thankful that the account was under a different email than the ones he would use for work or casual, normal day-to-day things. He had done everything in his power to keep everything separate.

Never once did he mention it or bring it up at work, nor did he check his account there either.

But one morning, an day he had off work more specifically, he checked his inbox to find a follow notification that made his stomach drop. A new message alongside that.

The face of his new-ish partner at work. An even worse version of Connor that really got him stirring. He almost made it impossible for him to keep working on his problems of anger issues and still feeling that ‘anti-android’ sentiments. Gavin still swore up and down that the detective models were going to take his job. Out-preform him and render him useless. And as much as RK800 told him, and the other coworkers that the RK900 came to work there already deviant, Gavin still didn’t want to believe that they had feelings and felt them on the same, if not higher, levels. It took a lot of time to get him to warm up to him, but at the very least, he called the android his name and the proper chosen pronouns.

The newer model was donned himself ‘Nines’, which Gavin had called stupid in a childish fit of annoyance. In no world was it necessary for him to hate the android as much as he did. That hatred faded ever so slightly over time as they were forced to work together. He argued every step of the way, until it hit about the third week. He had gotten injured and the RK900 helped him all the way to safety and waited with him for an ambulance. In that time, he realized that maybe Nines didn’t want to replace him. Because in his mind, he would have let him bleed out if he wanted him gone. But he didn’t do that. Then he realized that he must be doing a little better with his therapies if he isn’t jumping to the worst conclusion ever.

Nines didn’t seem as bad from that point, he even let the android fight back with him instead of storming out whenever something went wrong or he got pissed off. Sure, the comments could be horrible, but he would feel himself smirk a little when he got a response. A reaction of any kind rather than some dull, stupid look like he usually did after he got pissed. The android stopped feeling like such a threat, with lingering suspicion still, but the subtle shift in Nines’ steel gray eyes to something that felt more human let him put his guard down just a little.

But the follower notice and the message brought a sick feeling back to his mouth. The trust gained immediately felt like it went down the drain. That stupid robot face felt like it was mocking him as he stared at it. How did he find it? Of course the fucking android would, right? The bastard saw everything, he could even see his heart rate, caffeine consumption levels, or stress levels, just by looking at him. Oh how Gavin hated it.

Of course this is how his off day goes. The one day this week that he was even able to take off, Fowler constantly bitched about how he was on the clock overtime and the higher ups didn’t want to pay him for that, but wouldn’t give him a solid day off. And now he needed to go in to find Nines and throttle him-

No. He’s supposed to be working on that. He’s supposed to be trying to be civil. It was only just getting better and the android just had to go and fuck it up. If he had just kept to himself.

Gavin’s teeth clenched harder and harder as he hesitated to open the message, until a sharp pain shocked him into releasing that tension. That plastic prick. He wanted to get rid of the evidence, maybe just delete the whole account. If Nines had no proof, he could deny it, right? Wrong. He hated that stupid detective programming in Nines’ hardware, he could tell if Gavin was lying.

He forced his hand to the screen, pressing the notification and daring to skim the message. Not a word got rid of the sick taste in his mouth. It felt uniquely Nines, dull, characterless, and straight to the damn point.

It read:

“Good morning, I came across your account and I wanted to talk to you about this today. Can we meet at the station at 3pm today?”

Clearly not a care in the damn world from the android, and not a doubt it was Gavin either. As a detective, he should have known that he should have made the account as untraceable as possible, but he didn’t. Something he was deeply regretting now. Bile rose in his throat as he began to think. His one safe space could be so easily ripped away from him. And it was being taken, pried from his hands.

He desperately wanted to just ignore the message, let it rot in his inbox and try to forget. It wasn’t a feasible choice when Nines would undoubtedly stare him down every day until they spoke. So, on his day off, he pulled himself out of bed and went for a cold shower first thing. He waited to reply, just to be the most inconvenient as he possibly could be.

And when he did reply, he simply sent a thumbs up emoji and blocked the account Nines had used. For now, he couldn’t let the android stay on his page where he wasn’t welcomed.

Minutes were spent pacing. The last time anyone knew, they abused Gavin’s blind trust. They made his regression impure for months at a time before he seeked help from his therapist, then his community. He couldn’t help but wonder how much Nines had known, how much he had seen. It only made sense he would have looked as far back as he could, he was programmed to learn. That didn’t just disappear when he deviated.

His comfort jacket was left at home without a second thought, all of his comforting things were left behind. He couldn’t bring it along. He especially couldn’t bring his bag, more of a satchel kind of thing. It held everything he could possibly need. It had what he called his ‘panic paci’, a small sensory square what made crinkle sounds and was nice to touch, a small pack of tissues, and a thin, childish water bottle. A bag with things he kept for ‘just in case’ scenarios. But he had to risk not bringing it to be at least able to get Nines off his back.

He could almost hear the android’s reasons for concern now as he walked out of his apartment. It all made his stomach twist in knots with all the possibilities. Maybe he didn’t look it, but he felt pale. Clammy hands, racing heart, cold sweat, skin cold to the touch. It was almost nauseating how this got under his skin. His stupid coworker with his ridiculously smart fake brain he could so easily blow out. There would be no replacement with Cyblerlife mostly down and not making new androids. And as much as he hated his blue guts, he shook off those thoughts. If he even tried to speak like that with his therapist, they would ask things that always felt dumb to Gavin, ‘think about where he’s coming from’ or ‘listen before you decide how you feel’. Oh how it pissed him off even more, but.. His progress. He found it mattering more in his decision making because his therapist made gave him a reward system. Something a parent or a teacher would give a troublesome child. It bothered him just as it much as it helped, really.

The drive up to the station wasn’t much easier. The automatic taxi he took only forced him to think more about the android he had to talk to. Had to. It would risk his job if he didn’t. As he thought, he repeated that in his head. It would risk his job if he didn’t talk to Nines. That bastard would try to get him under investigation if he didn’t meet with him, Gavin was sure. He would try to replace him, just as he thought.

He was hot headed as he pulled up, a strong dizziness to match. No food, no coffee, nothing to prepare himself even after being awake so long. His eye bags were heavy, eyes sore. The more he forced himself, the more strain he put on his brain. Of course a headache was brewing the moment he stepped inside and that cold office air was directly on his cold face.

“Detective Reed.” The RK900 greeted him at their desks as if this was just another day, as if Gavin didn’t look like hell reincarnated. Steely cold eyes followed his every movement and no fear in them when Gavin dared to step up to him.

He wanted nothing more than to pull him into a nasty brawl, a bar fight times ten.

“You fucking bastard.” Gavin decided to start with. He didn’t bother with greetings, nor did he especially care about if the android was being helpful. The words his therapist would say lingered, but he didn’t want to listen when the plastic prick was right in front of him.

“Detective, be civil. We just need to talk.” Nines spoke, just as calm and calculated as always. Cold, too.

“Don’t give me bullshit, you know what you’re doing.” He lowered his voice, hands going to shove the android back by his shoulders against the glass divider that separated the hall and the bullpen. Gavin held a permanent scowl on his face.

The android hardly reacted while keeping a stare down at the detective. “Gavin, I’m not doing anything. I wanted to discuss your safety, and perhaps some of your history.”

His safety? His history? Oh hell no.

“You’re gonna fucking replace me, that it? You want me to spill shit, try and get me feeling soft so you get get me out.” Gavin pressed Nines back, keeping him against the glass with pure anger in his eyes. How could he not be pissed? He snapped with easy conviction.

“Detective, with your behavior, maybe you need it.”

Oh he was going to get it.

Right in the bullpen, Gavin pressed his forearm against the android’s throat and pinned him back against that glass divider. It would be easy for Nines to overpower him. This was a power trip, in a way. A reaction to a trigger. Even though he could fight back this time, he let Gavin have his time.

“I don’t need shit. I have what I need, and you fucking invaded that space. Shut up!” Gavin growled at him, brows pulled into a scrunch that burned at the surrounding skin.

He let Gavin have his outburst.

Profanities and threats were scowled at him until Gavin couldn’t hold him up there anymore. When he did let go, he pushed his head back against the glass too. Not enough to break anything, not even skin, but to get his point across.

He patiently waited. And waited.

When Gavin was out of breath and finally sitting, Nines looked down at him with some horrible mix of concern and annoyance.

“That’s enough of that tantrum, detective.” He spoke, and that anger flared up again. Gavin’s fists bunched up in his lap. It was a play, he was sure. But then a hand was rested on his shoulder.

“I’m not reporting you, nor am I replacing you.”

Gavin wanted to call bullshit. Why else would the android have even bothered to find his safe space, and intrude in it, then ask to talk at their workplace of all spaces? His mouth opened to speak.

“Ah.” Nines tsked. “I wanted to talk to you, both because I found the blog and I wanted to know if that was contributing to your new.. behavior.”

Behavior?!

This prick talking to him like he was a child was more enraging than anything else. His behavior… BS. He hadn’t changed outside of a bit of a lighter perspective.

“You don’t get to comment on anything, asshole. You’re the motherfucker getting in my shit then fucking me over.” Gavin sat up straighter into Nines’ space. He remained deflective, accusatory. He needed to.

“Well, I’m commenting anyway. You’re more lax, you have gotten more sleep, you have consumed much less caffeine, you aren’t snapping as much. Your last unprovoked fight was weeks ago.” It felt like utter lies to hear. He didn’t change that much, did he?

Tina had commented that she saw him actually smiling at something other than an animal video the week before. He had let Hank talk to him once too. He kept composed in one meeting with Fowler. And he hadn’t had to buy a new coffee grind that week either.

Was he that different?

“I don’t want your fake empathy your plastic brain thinks it has. Nothing is different.” Gavin deflected, again. He didn’t think anything was much different at all, or maybe he was just lying to get away.

The android seemed truly a bit disheartened by that, a small pang of guilt went through Gavin’s system.

“Gavin.” Nines was much more firm. “I’m not the bad guy here. You’re stressing yourself out. Your heart rate is high and you’re tense. Stay here, I’m going to get you water.”

And for some reason, Gavin stayed in his seat. Stirring in his anger, but it turning more to annoyance and exhaustion.

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