Summary: After the Android Revolution, you were one of the few that chose to remain in service. You were still considered alive and free to make your own choices, but you couldn’t leave your charge; a sick elderly woman that doted on you as if you were a member of her family. After a break-in, Connor is the first responder and helps track down the person – or android – responsible for the crime.
Remaining on the police force with Hank as his partner had been a no-brainer. He wanted to make sure that both parties – humans and androids – would be held accountable for their actions. When responding to a call one night, he met Y/N, a caring and sassy android that he never saw coming. He was still learning to deal with his emotions, but no one – not even Hank – could have prepared him for the overwhelming swelling in his chest and this need to see her again.
Word Count: 2,527
Warnings: Angst, fluff, language. Possibly more to come.
Author’s Note: I absolutely adore this game and Connor. Title inspired by Robots in Love. I will be using my Everything tags for this series. If you do not want to be tagged, I’ll remove you. If you are interested in learning more about the game, feel free to check out the Wiki page.

Series Master List

My work is not to be posted on any other sites (AO3, Wattpad, etc.) without my express written permission. Reblogs are fine.

“Vincent Cruz,” Hank sighed as he pulled up the attempted robber’s file. “Looks like he’s made quite the name for himself around Detroit.”

Connor was seated at his desk, scanning over the very same file on his computer. “He’s been going around town and dismantling androids.”

“And selling their parts on the black market,” Hank groaned. “We got ourselves a fuckin’ winner.”

Connor’s LED flashed yellow. “I’m not sure I understand, Lieutenant,” he admitted, clearly confused.

“It’s called sarcasm,” Hank scoffed with a smirk. “You’ll get there one of these days, buddy.”

“Sarcasm,” Connor muttered, the LED on his right temple flickering from yellow to its original cerulean shade. “The use of irony to mock or convey contempt. I think I understand, now. You strongly dislike Vincent’s actions, therefore you are ridiculing them with a positive phrase.”

“I ain’t ever gonna get use to that,” Hank snorted. “But, yeah. That’s it exactly.”

Connor smiled at the praise coming from his partner.

Hank wasn’t exactly easy to deal with; he was a gruff and jaded man. Having lost a child at the hands of an android whose job it was to save lives would do that to a person. Up until last year, Hank drank himself senseless every day. Once, to the point where he passed out on the kitchen floor, a revolver loaded with one bullet lying next to his hand.

“A game of Russian Roulette,” he had told Connor after the android roused him.

Connor might have been a state-of-the-art android equipped with biocomponents and technology that had not yet been released to the public, but the one thing he failed to understand was why someone would want to kill themselves. He understood why androids did it; the overwhelming amount of human emotion that flooded their biocomponents overloaded their circuits. It was simply too much to handle.

When placed in extremely stressful situations, androids would go into self-destruct mode where they would do anything and everything within their power to make whatever was happening stop. The last one he had witnessed had been particularly brutal.

An android was being abused daily by the human that owned him; Carlos Ortiz. Carlos would beat the android with a bat and, during the last six weeks of his life, burned him with cigarettes. And then, one day, the HK400 model had had enough, and ‘woke up’ during a beating. In the act of defending himself, the HK400 grabbed a kitchen knife and fought off his attacker before stabbing him twenty-eight times.

In order to retrieve a confession and gain an understanding as to why, Connor pressured the victim until his stress level rose to an optimal level. When that level was reached, the deviant android couldn’t hold back any longer and told Connor everything that happened leading up to the attack that took the life of Carlos Ortiz. Turned out the android was scared and angry and tired of the degradation.

It happened as Connor was leaving the interrogation room; the HK400 started slamming his forehead into the steel table he was handcuffed to. Three officers burst into the room; Chris – a patrolman, Hank, and Gavin – another detective that hated androids. The three of them did all they could think of to stop the self-destruction, but they failed. The android collapsed in a growing pool of his own blood, sparks flickering in his open wounds, the smell of burning biocomponents filling the small room.

Hank later asked him why Connor didn’t try and intervene, but Connor didn’t have an answer. While it wasn’t the first time he had seen an android self-destruct, it just so happened that Connor was in the midst of ‘waking up’ during that time. He had simply been too shocked to move.

Understanding humans was completely different. Where androids were constructed of circuits and electricity and plastic, humans were constructed by flesh and muscles and blood, driven by something that could not be replicated, no matter how hard scientists tried; a soul. They didn’t recharge or have replaceable parts as androids did, and that baffled Connor. They were a soft and fragile species, one that, scientifically speaking, should not have survived billions of years of evolution.

“Hey,” Hank barked, yanking Connor from his own thoughts. “Did you hear what I said?”

Connor blinked rapidly before answering. “You want to see if we can get a warrant to search Cruz’s last known address.”

“How the hell do you do that?” Hank genuinely wanted to know.

“I record everything I see and hear, even though you are convinced I am not listening,” Connor explained flatly. “Which judge do you think we should contact?”

After thinking on it for a moment, Hank made up his mind. “McAvoy. He’s got a soft spot for androids.”

Connor’s fingers flew over the keyboard as he filed the electronic request for a search warrant. “All done.”

“Now, we wait.”

Grace had quickly fallen asleep after finishing her chamomile tea, her previously-frayed nerves  had eased at the detective’s determination to find the culprit and bring him to justice. No matter the pledges, you couldn’t sit still.

You travelled every inch of the house and made sure every door and window was locked, giving them a test tug for added assurance. After repeating the precautionary steps twenty times, you went into the bathroom to clean up. There was dried blood in your hair, darkening the strands to a deep blue. Red and blue were smeared on your face and neck, mixing to a shade of purple that would have been pretty if it had not been a combination of human and android blood.

Stripped out of your stained clothes, you stepped into the shower and made quick work of ridding yourself of the physical reminder of the attack. For the past ten years, you worked diligently to keep a clean and safe home for Grace, and the fact that some human, a complete and total stranger, entered the home completely undetected had shaken you more than you had let on.

Once clean and wearing a new set of clothes, you discarded the stained ones, knowing that the blood would never be completely gone. Even if it happened by some miracle, the memory of it would keep you from wearing them again.

The wound on your head was superficial and would heal soon enough on its own. Despite that knowledge, it bothered you. You had experienced a wide array of emotions since you broke free of your android programming. However, pain was not one of them. The slice into your human-looking skin was throbbing, making you wince whenever you turned your head or when the creases formed in your forehead.

Grace had said something in passing about getting it looked at, that, “You might need stitches.”

You hadn’t paid the comment much attention, but now that the pain level had risen, it was all you could think about. It was too late to go into town, and with Grace sleeping, you were the only one to do anything about it. There was just one problem with that. There was a tightening in your chest whenever you thought about piercing your skin with a needle, followed by tugging the two pieces together with a piece of string.

Either you would have to wait until morning, or figure out some other way to tend to the wound. The only thing you could think of was another android, an android that had been in your home several hours ago.

Connor and Hank’s contact information was provided to both you and Grace before the detectives went on their way. Without a second thought, you were calling Connor, the LED light on your temple shining yellow as the call connected.

Once inside the residence, Hank and Connor were greeted by a drooling St. Bernard; Sumo, Hank’s dog.

“Such a good guard dog,” Hank teased while bending over to pet Sumo. With a final pat to Sumo’s head, he strolled into the kitchen and pulled a beer from the fridge.

Connor bent down to run his fingers through the dog’s brown and white fur, chuckling when Sumo’s tongue shot out and covered one side of his face in slime. “I think he’s grown quite fond of me,” Connor noted as he stood tall and readjusted his tie.

“Yeah, well, he ain’t the brightest bulb,” Hank teased.

Connor sat down on the couch next to Hank, who had just turned on a game of hockey. “How long do you think it will take McAvoy to sign for the warrant?”

“Shouldn’t be too long,” Hank answered, an excited lilt to his voice as the home team got a goal. “You want a beer?”

“Thank you, but no,” Connor declined the offer.

Sumo chose that moment to wedge himself between the android and human, sighing heavily when Connor was the only one that moved to the side. The canine covered Connor’s legs with his body, half-turning and begging with wide eyes for the android to scratch his stomach. Connor chuckled and quickly obliged.

“I don’t think Sumo is the only one that enjoys that,” commented Hank.

“You’re right, Lieutenant,” Connor quickly agreed. “I do find that interacting with Sumo makes me happy.”

There were a few moments where the only sounds to be heard were from the television and the panting of Sumo. That quickly changed when Connor received an unexpected call.

“Hi Connor,” Y/N greeted him. “I apologize for contacting you at such a late hour.”

“Y/N, it is not a bother,” he assured her. “Is everything alright?”

She let out a soft sigh before answering. “Yes and no. Would you mind coming over? I need your help with something.”

“I can be there in ten minutes,” he confirmed, already pushing Sumo off his lap.

“Thank you,” she said before disconnecting the call.

“You need some company?” asked Hank, his voice heavy with laughter.

Connor shook his head. “Y/N just needs some help. I won’t be long.”

Without waiting for Hank to tease him further, Connor called a taxi and went outside to wait for it.

True to his word, Connor was at the house inside of ten minutes. His eyes scanned the entryway as you opened the door for him, searching for some sign that something was amiss.

“Thank you for coming,” you mumbled, a fresh wave of pain radiating heat down the side of your face.

He must have seen you wince, because the next thing you knew, his hand was holding your chin and he was peering at your wound. “It hurts.”

“Of course it hurts,” you couldn’t help but snap. “I… I’m sorry, Connor. I didn’t mean to… Do you think you could help stitch it up?”

Connor released your chin and started walking towards the kitchen. “I assume you have a needle and thread.”

“I do,” you confirmed as you followed him, having to hurry as his legs were longer.

“What about a cooling pack?” His jacket was off and he was rolling up the sleeves of his white button-up shirt just past his elbows.

Shaking your head, you pulled your hair into a ponytail. “I have them on order.”

“That’s not a problem,” Connor said with a smile. “We can do without.”

You were seated on a stool, watching as he washed his hands before quickly threading the needle. He stood to the left of center in front of you, so that he could look at the wound headon. But before he did anything, he turned on the cooling feature of his android skin and pressed his fingers to your sensitive skin.

“Shit,” you hissed, not expecting the stab of pain.

Connor peered down at you and apologized. “I am sorry. I did not know it would hurt.”

“It’s okay,” you grit out through your teeth. “How much longer?”

“Until you can’t feel anything,” was his direct answer. “Hank says that ice numbs the skin, that it helps when someone is in pain. I assumed it work instantly.”

You huffed in amusement. “Well, he’s not wrong. It’s starting to work.”

“Good,” Connor beamed, clearly proud of himself. He stood there for another minute until you could no longer feel his touch. “Okay, I’m going to start.”

You held your breath as Connor leaned in and punctured the broken skin with a barely audible pop. It made tears well in your eyes, but not because it hurt anymore. You blamed the wave of emotion on the eventful evening. Fighting off an intruder hadn’t been on your agenda for the night.

“All done, Y/N,” Connor announced quickly after starting, taking you by surprise.

“Oh,” you sighed in relief. “I thought it would have taken longer.”

He disposed of the needle before washing his hands once more. “The cut wasn’t deep, nor was it very big. I only put in three stitches.”

Unable to stop yourself, you reached up to touch the area. Connor’s hand shot out and stopped you from achieving your goal.

“I wouldn’t. It might get infected if your hands are not clean.” His brown eyes drilled into yours before he released your hand.

“I knew that,” you mumbled, suddenly feeling very self-conscious.

Connor’s sleeves were unrolled and he pulled on his jacket. “I apologize for my tone.”

You went to tell him that it was alright, but you never got the chance because he was answering a call.

“Hank?”

The gruff detective’s voice filtered through the air around you. “McAvoy signed the warrant. Meet me at Cruz’s.” Hank didn’t wait for a confirmation before disconnecting the call.

“Was there anything else you needed help with, Y/N?”

“No. Thank you for coming over.” Without thinking about what you were doing, you pressed your lips to his cheek in a chaste kiss before heading out of the room, down the hall, and to the front door. You had seen Grace bid people farewell in that way hundreds of hundreds of times.

There was a shade of pink coloring Connor’s cheeks as he came into your view. “You’re welcome.” He bent down and kissed your cheek in the same manner. He smiled gently as he stood, watching you closely as you opened the door. “If you require further assistance, don’t hesitate to call.”

“I will. Be safe,” you advised him as he walked down the sidewalk to wait for his taxi.

Connor looked at you over his shoulder. “I always am, Y/N.”

You waited until Connor climbed into the taxi before turning off the outside lights. The lock was engaged and the alarm system was turned back on a moment later.

For the first time since the break-in, you started to feel drowsy, so you headed upstairs. You peeked into Grace’s room to make sure she was still asleep, that if she were awake there was nothing she needed. Thankfully, she was still asleep. You quietly closed the door and headed across the hall to your room where you climbed into bed, resting on the opposite side of where the wound on your head was. It was mere seconds before your eyes fluttered shut and you gave into the exhaustion without a fight.

THREE

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