And with Halloween over (I’m in Europe!), we present you: The official prompt list for the Convin New Year’s Countdown 2020! Thank you all so much for your submissions, and I hope you’ll all enjoy writing, drawing, and generally creating! Feel free to post your work even if the day it’s for is already over, and don’t forget to add written words to the ao3 collection.
tag your posts with #aconvinnewyear and tag this blog in them when you post!
That’s all! Have fun, and i’m excited to see your works in December!
It has been awfully quiet for about an hour now. As Connor ended his story with horrible dejection written all over his face, he turned around and initiated his stasis, refusing any and all comfort Gavin has been more than willing to provide. He did expect it to be something twisted and tragic like that, even imagined the worst possible scenario before being told how it really went down, just to be safe. If he’s honest with himself, the reality isn't very far from the most fucked up course of events his mind has been able to cook up. Still, it has been able to freeze the blood in his veins, which has paralysed his brain for the amount of time it took Connor to withdraw to his simulated sleep.
Gavin has already cursed himself for being so goddamn incompetent when it comes to emotional issues, blamed himself for the cold shoulder he didn't even have the chance to receive. He still does, as he lies glued to the bed, counting the cracks in the ceiling. His nicotine addiction is begging him to go into the cold and give it what it needs to survive, but the warmth of his current company is impossible to leave. His hand aches for the smallest touch, for some confirmation that Connor is still here with him. So he directs his sight to the body next to him, letting himself be mesmerised by the constellations of freckles decorating the android's bare arm. It's a painful view, knowing that he still doesn't have the right to connect those dots with his own defects, to interpose himself with this amazing, flawed being who has carved a hole in his chest and invaded his heart.
He remembers how the android was back when he found him on the roof, finally realising the enormous difference created by the months they’ve spent together. Last spring he dreaded going to work, feared that Connor just wouldn’t show up one day and he wouldn’t be able to see him ever again. Or worse, all that would remain of him would be the empty vessel that used to house his colourful soul, something that would kill his last hopes. He was tempted to become a well-meaning stalker then, to always be near for when a potential threat arrives, but that idea was too exhausting for him in the end, and so he left his worries to a silent prayer which guided him all through to summer.
With the warmth came the first smile and a myriad of gratitudes for his uncharacteristic kindness. That’s when they started having casual conversations, a big leap from the uncomfortable silences that filled their shared hours in the previous season. It was somewhere in July when he first regarded Connor as his friend, without his vigilant denial disagreeing that fact. Gavin has always found the android very attractive, like an eye candy specifically developed for his torment, but knowing there was a whole, unpolished person behind that plastic perfection has made his partner so much more appealing. He simply couldn’t stop himself getting drawn to him, despite all the countless attempts to emotionally distance himself from the one who lived inside his dreams. It was either letting himself be eaten by the monsters living in his past, or inviting in the one person who has the power to push them away from his corrupted mind.
For the longest time, he did neither. Though his inability to act on his feelings was due to more than just the inherent fragility of their source, he was simply afraid like he has always been when it comes to things that have the potential to hurt him. He'd rather be thrown in a paper shredder than to have his soul bruised again. Physical pain is easy to understand, straightforward in its healing. Time usually takes care of what needs to be done, but when it comes to the mind, sometimes even passing years will have little to no effect on the waste that has accumulated in someone’s innermost core. And Gavin didn't want to add onto the rotting pile of mess that has already been too much to bear as it is. But that was months ago, and as the earth was becoming colder, the warmth that had started budding inside of him turned into sweltering heat.
When autumn was nearing its end, he understood that he would soon burn up if he didn’t begin dealing with his problem. Maybe that’s how they got here, to a place where he doesn’t have to call his feelings inconvenience anymore, having breached the border that has kept them apart all these months. He wants to stop fighting it for good. This truth is sent to him from above as he puts his fingers on Connor's bare temple, tracing the ghost of the LED that used to signify his nature.
He'd like to say that the fact that one of them isn't human is what prevented them from giving into their hearts' desires, but that is far from the truth. Life is much more complicated than that, not as black and white as he wants it to be.
Gavin wishes their relationship was defined, so he could casually take the android in his arms and hold him away from the evil of the world, just for a short while, just so he can expand his collection of irreplaceable moments that he doesn't ever want to forget.
He considers getting just a bit closer, weighing all the pros and cons that ultimately mean nothing because deep down he recognises that their sentiments are shared. So he lowers his steadying hand down from Connor’s temple, ready to enfold everything his partner represents. But fortune isn’t on his side tonight, because as soon as he begins his movement, Connor wakes up with a jerk that betrays confusion lined up with its best friend, unease.
"Did you have a nightmare?" Gavin is more than familiar with the concept of being tortured by his own psyche as he lays it to rest, so he's aware of just how disorienting such illusions can be, how unrelentingly cruel and merciless they often are.
"No, no... I-... androids can't normally dream. I wasn't really sleeping, just… thinking. More than I should."
Gavin scoots over so their shoulders are just about touching, a decision his conscious mind has had no say in.
"Do you wanna talk 'bout it?" A quiet, tentative question just barely escapes his lips for fear he gets denied entrance into Connor's trove of dark secrets.
There is a short, excruciating period of silence before he gets his answer.
"You know how I can preconstruct any future scenario based on the information available to me?"
"Yeah? I mean… sorta. Can't really wrap my mind around your technical stuff most of the time." That's only partially a lie. He ought to tell him that he doesn't want to picture his inner workings because they kind of scare him, but maybe that would be too inappropriate given the frailty of this moment.
"Well… I saw you get buried…,” the android breathes out for reasons Gavin can only guess, “after you died, naturally."
"Naturally."
Why doesn't this even surprise him anymore. Of course Connor would paint himself the grimmest image possible, these are just his default settings. Give him the brightest colours and he'd draw you the darkest sky without a single star in sight.
"That's not… I'm sorry I,... I didn't mean to… I just couldn't stop it since it went that way and…"
"Hey, it's okay.” It hurts seeing Connor get like that, losing most of his coherency and feeling like he should apologise for it.
“How…," Gavin takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing thoughts down. Connor was the one who saw his funeral, not him, yet he feels like he’s been there already, among the dirt, not far from other decaying corpses. It’s an uncanny sensation. Not one he’ll be chasing any time soon.
"How did it make you feel?" A stupid question, really, and yet the best his brain has to offer.
"How do you think?" Gavin never knew that tears could fit an incredulous look, but the welling in Connor's eyes combined with the exasperation written all over his face is proof enough. Laughable, frankly, but he wouldn't dare. Not now, anyway.
"Guess it sucked then."
"That's putting it mildly." The android shakes his head and rubs his eyes before they have the chance to leak his sorrow.
"I… I don't ever want to go through that again,” he says, desperation piercing his voice through and through. It would be easy to dismiss these ungrounded worries if it wasn’t for the two flaming brown lights probing his own mossy pools like they intend to hypnotise them and seize control over his soul.
"You know that no one can force you to… be there... when it happens."
"You don’t get it! That's not the point. I don't want to live in a world where two of my best friends are nothing but a memory. I realise that’s selfish, but… "
Gavin does, by all means, get it, he just tried to help, somehow.
Connor’s eyes are turning into glass, threatening to melt again, so he closes his because God knows he does not possess the strength to witness it, not tonight at least.
"Maybe you should just relax Con, the future will come no matter what, but we still have the might to shape it as we like. To some extent. Anyway,... I promise…," he cuts the sentence midway to inhale a big gulp of oxygen, an action which results in a minor coughing fit.
"I promise to try my best to stay by your side as long as physically possible. " A statement which makes him want to cry instead.
"Does it mean you’ll stop smoking then?"
Oh, that devious android, of course this conversation would lead here, why wouldn't it. He glances at his nightstand, checking if the half-full box of cigarettes is still there, waiting for him to take its lethal fruit. Come to think about it, ever since their little trip his taste for cigarettes has somewhat diminished. Could be the fresher air just outside these thin walls, or the fact that Connor’s presence stimulates him enough already, so the need for nicotine is not as great as it is when he has to spend his time alone or surrounded by people who hold little to no significance to him, pretending like he doesn't crave something beyond the drug his body could very well function without.
"Yeah..., yeah, okay." Gavin buries his face in his hands, disbelieving his consent.
As he puts them away and folds them in his lap, he scroungers up a lazy smile meant to lighten up the heavy mood, to maybe clear Connor’s stormy sky a little.
"But only if you promise to try to be more optimistic… just a smidge.., " he makes a gesture with his two fingers to show how small of an effort would suffice.
Then he gives Connor a friendly pat on his thigh, after which he realises that he doesn't have to limit his displays of affection anymore, not after all the intimacy they have been willing to submit themselves to already.
So he lets his palm linger, allowing himself to rub gentle circles into the clothed skin. He doesn't have to be cautious with Connor, for the android isn't burdened with any biological organs that would make this situation uncomfortable for both parties.
"Life isn't all bad, I’m sure you came across that particular information at least once during your time on this Earth. Experienced it, even. No?"
"You're right."
A trace of a hesitant smile on Connor’s lips is all that it takes for Gavin to heave a sigh of relief. He’s too tired to think beyond that feeling. Everything inside of him, all the emotions and memories blend into a blurry mixture as he starts losing the ground under his feet.
But he must fight it, his friend still needs him awake...
"Let's go to sleep," Connor whispers, tugging him into a tender embrace. It’s warm and safe and he can't concentrate on anything but the wave of love pulling him under to the sweet slumber he’s always yearned for.
Connor can’t help but laugh when a palm lands on his cheek ever so softly.
“You’re aware that I can’t feel physical pain, right?”
“Shut up,” Gavin pretends that he’s bothered by that rhetorical question, but the hint of a smile trying to force its way in doesn’t go undetected. Ever since the morning, his face has been graced by the shade of red Connor can’t get enough of, which is the main reason for his good mood.
Somehow they ended up playing rock-scissors-paper and Gavin insisted that the loser should receive some form of punishment, “to spice it up a little”. He thinks that the man just wants to test how advanced his programming is, to find out whether he’s even capable of losing. The truth is he could accurately estimate Gavin’s move if he concentrated enough, but then this would be no fun now, would it.
Of course, he had to draw paper in their first round and the fact that Gavin immediately went for scissors was all but unexpected. The man himself can be sharp like a knife when you touch the wrong side of him.
Connor has a hard time admitting to himself that he lost on purpose because he can’t quite figure out why.
“Doesn’t matter,” Gavin mumbles and invites him for a rematch.
He supposes there are better ways to spend their free time, but since no one is willing to talk about what is going on between them, childish games count as the next best thing.
And Connor really enjoys the limbo they trapped themselves in. It’s just warm enough without the possibility of leaving burns. Luke-warm, if he’s being honest with himself. A bit bland. Still, he could live with that. He can ignore the longing in Gavin’s eyes if it keeps them safe like this.
“Guess I win this time.” Gavin’s fist uncurls in disappointment, preventing Connor from enveloping it in his ‘paper’.
“You sure you didn’t cheat with your robo mind-reading power?” There is nothing but playfulness seeping from his voice, still, Connor can’t believe he even has to ask.
“You really do think highly of me, don’t you?”
“So that would be a ‘no’.” He squeezes his eyes shut and winces in anticipation.
“I’ll be gentle, I promise.”
And he is, imitating the slap he got just a couple of minutes ago.
“Seriously? Well, that was kinda underwhelming.” He sounds almost dissatisfied. Connor never considered Gavin was into that kind of stuff but one never knows what the other person might be hiding. Not that he minds, it’s just a piece of information he needs to get used to.
“So was yours.” He smirks at him, creating a petulant frown on his friend’s face.
“Good point.” At least he doesn’t initiate a fight. It would be a shame if something ruined their so-far peaceful day.
The snow has finally stopped falling, letting a ray of sunshine peek through the thick clouds. He would suggest taking a walk if Gavin hasn’t coughed three times in the past two hours. Connor has been monitoring his vitals, not noticing any significant change to his health, but that might have been only thanks to their current sufficiently heated location. At least according to his scans it is so, because the detective’s hands rub his arms up and down in an attempt to get rid of the cold only he can feel.
“If only you had a perfectly comfortable sweater to wear.., what a pity,” Connor shakes his head in theatrical sorrow.
“Oh, wait.”
The darts coming from Gavin prick his skin without having to look at him at all. Now, this is fun.
“You do!.”
The man seems offended by his toothy grin, which makes it grow even wider.
“For phck’s sake, Connor. I told you I’ll wear that over my dead body.”
“Guess I’ll have to kill you then.”
He means it as a stupid joke, but the air turns serious as soon as his mouth lets out those words.
“Sorry.”
He shouldn’t be the one letting himself be carried away by the moment, no matter how carefree it might have been.
But Gavin doesn’t react to his feeble apology, busy making himself smaller to contain some of his bodily heat. His temperature is still within the norm, but that doesn’t tell him anything about what might happen in the next several hours. Days.
He repeats his actions from the night before, placing his blanket around the man’s shoulder, letting his hands linger a little longer than they should.
They spend the rest of the day wasting their time by playing all the games from Gavin’s childhood that Connor would never have the opportunity to experience otherwise. It’s a nice gesture, if that indeed is the intention behind it. Could be that this is the detective’s idea of dealing with boredom. And since they’ve decided to forget all about their work while they’re here, there weren’t many options left if they wanted to avoid all communication that could direct them to the forsaken grounds, also known as a personal dialogue.
Connor almost had to force-feed Gavin the lunch he ordered for him, fighting against his endless excuses of not being hungry. He needs the strength if his condition is to worsen, and he’d make sure he gets it, even if it ended up in him having to shove a spoon inside his human mouth and nearly choking him to death. The man does sometimes act like a misbehaving toddler, but he figures that’s just a part of his charm. Besides, he likes taking care of him, it makes him fulfilled, for more reasons than one. It reminds him that he’s capable of so much more than just police work.
It’s late in the afternoon now, the sky has gone dark and their carefully structured conversation quieted down into a pleasant silence. The only light source in their room is provided by the muted television which no one pays any attention to.
Gavin is sitting on the ground, backed propped by the side of his bed. He’s still snuggled in Connor’s blanket, cradling a cup of tea the android has made for him.
He has packed plenty of supplies with him, thinking they might come in handy. It’s better to be over-prepared than the opposite, an opinion that this trip has confirmed to him.
Connor has just got off the phone with Tina, assuring himself that Sumo is being adequately spoiled. He really misses that oversized lump of fur, but the dog is doing just fine without him, so he has nothing to complain about.
Checking up on Gavin he notices his temperature has risen above what’s deemed healthy. He sits next to him and retracts the skin on his hand, pressing it on the man’s forehead to extract the precise reading, just to be certain.
“Yeah, I know,” Gavin says, clearly defeated. He shifts a bit and looks at him like he’s seeing the most beautiful being in the world, setting the now half-empty cup aside.
“C’me here.”
Maybe it’s the medicine he took twenty minutes ago finally kicking in, making his brain all mushy and body too clingy, but Gavin magically pulls him in his lap and holds him like he’s the last of his kind. He rests his head on the android’s chest, and Connor is too weak to deny him this show of vulnerability. Even if it’s likely drug-induced. They stay like this for a while, basking in each other’s touch, breathing in the tender atmosphere. Their hands have found each other too, fitting together like opposite poles. His spare one is threading through Gavin’s hair, messing it up on purpose. Connor loves seeing it like that, it feels intimate to him. A secret side of the man reserved only for those who are closest to him. It’s nice. Too nice.
The moment is so overwhelmingly light it doesn’t even occur to him how dangerous his actions are. How those small acts can wedge a rift between them if he isn’t careful enough.
But it’s too late to back out because Gavin kisses his chest, the place whereunder his mechanical heart beats loudly. And it doesn’t stop there. He traces those kisses up along his collar bone, his jaw, his neck, eliciting a content hum from him in the process. When he comes close to his lips, the man hesitates for a second that seems like an eternity, but ultimately decides to give in.
And that where Connor draws the line. Snapping out of his trance, he quickly shoves his hand in front of his mouth to prevent Gavin from doing something he won’t be able to take back.
“I’m sorry,” comes the muffled expression of regret. He truly loathes having to say that phrase so often because he apparently can’t do a single thing right in his life.
He climbs off Gavin, dropping his body right next to him instead.
“Why,” the man breathes softly.
“I- I can’t. I can’t give you everything you want, Gavin.” He tries to communicate his despair through his doleful gaze, which his friend appears to be drowning in.
“What-” Connor grabs the upper side of Gavin’s hand, guiding it towards him in an answer. It discomforts him greatly, but he leads it to where his genitals would be if he had any. He’s not the only one unsettled by this, for he senses Gavin struggle against his grip and at this point he has no choice but to set him free.
“You phcking toaster, you think I don’t know that?” he laughs without mirth.
“You think that… that I want you just for your body?”
Connor has hurt the man again, despite trying to do the exact opposite.
“...no?”
“No!” It’s not that difficult to believe, but not as easy when the truth has been spoken out loud.
Gavin leans back into him, resting his head on his shoulder. At least they haven’t spiralled down the path of pretend animosity.
“You don’t mind that I’m not a man?” Connor has never really regarded himself as one. It’s a label that doesn’t feel right to him. He’s simply himself, a human-like android who has been given a soul. There is no need for something else.
“I don’t care what or who you are, Con. As long as it’s you that’s inside, I wouldn’t mind if you were a phcking jellyfish, I’d… I’d love you all the same.”
“You… you love me.” The world around him gets blurry as he can’t quite process what he just heard.
“Is that so surprising, tin can?” Gavin chuckles, his own tears audible in that delightful sound.
He wants to say it back, every inch of his being is urging him to do so, but his brain has frozen over and refuses to receive any command his heart gives him.
The words are stuck in his chest, leaking out through his close eyes, unable to be turned into any shape. They stab him with their intensity over and over, making him want to pluck them out and throw them at the person who has created them.
“I-”
“You don’t have to, Con.”
Maybe neither of them is ready to carry the weight behind that sentence just yet.
@a-convin-new-year i had to change the title a bit to suit my story hope you don’t mind
Gavin is a restless sleeper. His body thrashes and twitches like it desperately wants to wake up, his mouth forming disjointed sentences whose meaning is indecipherable even for Connor. It feels like his entire being is calling for help, for someone to rescue him from the depths of his own twisted psyche. It’s a hundred times worse than it was yesterday. A night when the android had to do all that was in his might just to stay a passive observer, just because he was too afraid to trespass any further.
Not this time. He holds the fevered man in his arms, hoping it’s the best procedure in this scenario. The human has to sleep, there is no way around it if he wants to get better. All Connor can do is to bestow some sense of comfort. If he’s lucky, it will extend to his dream world, at least partially. Connor will do the rest when he gets released from the clutches of his nightmare. In the meanwhile, he’ll pass the time monitoring his vitals, as he’s fond of doing.
His little indirect confession fails to leave an impact for the longest time, his processors busy researching how to best care for his sick partner. It leaves him unbothered until Gavin’s body finally ceases its violent movements and he’s given a moment of temporary calm. It is all too quiet, meaning the memory has nothing to hide behind anymore. No distractions keeping it from fully presenting itself. Connor fears replaying the conversation would throw him into a flight or fight mode, that he would try and undo it all. Still, avoiding it won’t solve anything. So he closes his eyes and transports himself to that fragile moment. But his mind puts him in no such ugly place. It makes his chest light, like he's gotten rid of a heavy burden that was making his life into a less than joyous experience. Maybe he has been wrong for keeping these feelings for himself all this time, knowing well that Gavin doesn't look at him as one would at a mere friend, that his heart leaps up whenever their proximity is far more than casual. It’s not something earth-shattering, nor a disaster that would split them apart. Perhaps all he’s done is just strengthen the foundation of the bridge that connects them. Perhaps he can keep it standing by being completely honest, not only with himself.
The doubts may forever muddy his view, but that can’t stop him from seeing clearly. Not in the long run. Not as long as he has the countermeasure right here beside him.
His friend is pulled from his unrestful slumber with a sharp gasp, his eyes darting around, most likely trying to remember where he is and what’s been happening all those hours he can’t account for.
“Hey, hey, it’s alright, I’m here.” That doesn’t feel like the correct thing to say, considering the man’s unpredictable nature, but Connor just can't fight the temptation to remind Gavin that he's not alone.
Connor has left him lying on his own about an hour ago, providing him with the space he might need. His temperature went significantly down and there was no pressing need to keep serving as a personal heater-slash-cooler. Not that he doesn’t greatly enjoy it.
“What…,” an incomplete question accented with a wet cough, “what… where…” Gavin tries to sit up, but the night has made him weak and so he would be left struggling if it wasn’t for his very helpful android friend who eagerly lifts him up. Gavin winces under his touch, but only for the first second, and before long he gives in completely. He doesn’t protest when Connor lets his hands linger just as their eyes meet, despite the blood rushing to his face. The man parts his lips as if there are words locked inside of him that should be set free, but no sound comes out. It doesn’t matter. His look says more than his mouth ever could.
-
“You sure you’ll manage?” he checks for the third time, seemingly speaking to nothing but the closed bathroom room.
Connor has assisted Gavin with all the allowed tasks, which does not include helping him strip off his clothes, unfortunately enough. The stubborn man has insisted on not being a baby and having the ability to do this on his own, which is disputable at best. Still, he’s relented and let him do as he pleases, but only because his health isn’t a threat to him anymore. And maybe also because it’s hard to go against his wishes when he smiles at him like that, a weapon Connor isn’t immune to.
“Doubtful,” comes the reply together with a freshly clothed Gavin. After a short scan he finds out that the shower hasn’t worsened his condition after all, could be an effect of the very necessary lecture on appropriate water-temperature Connor felt was very pertinent.
The man plops his exhausted body onto Connor’s bed, only since it’s the more sanitary option, he assumes.
Suddenly, his thought processes get brought to a halt, and he stands screwed to the floor, not knowing how to process this beautifully mundane moment. It’s too raw, too visceral and he’s still too frightened to act according to what his heart demands.
“Are you going to stand there and watch me like some creepy mannequin?”
Of course not.
In lieu of a verbal answer, he moves his heavy body to him, sitting next to his friend with an utmost tentativeness. Some would even take it that he’s nervous, but he has no real reason to be, does he?
“Relax, I’m not gonna bite… unless you’re into that?” the man chuckles, making Connor's lips curls upwards as well.
“I don’t advise you to try and find out.”
The tension inside him relents a little, but not enough to lean into Gavin’s side like he so awfully wants to.
“Should we go home?” he asks instead.
“And where would that be, tin can?”
“I…,” he can feel his cheeks heat up, for which he has no logical explanation. He doesn’t have real blood, so how…
“You’re so pretty.” A soft hand grazes the scorching spot, on his face lighting the rest of him on fire. “Never knew androids could do that.”
He just wanted to tell Gavin that he’s his home. A simple thing like that.
“Is it… is it blue?”
“Yep.”
Though the bright grin on his friend’s face might just be worth this embarrassment.
“I was thinking,” Gavin starts as he rests his head on the android's shoulder, “the dog living in that cramped apartment… it isn’t fair to the poor animal. I, on the other hand, have a backyard that isn’t used for anything much these days. Plus, my place is much nicer and closer to work.”
“What are you insinuating?”
“You really want me to say it, don’t you. Okay,.. okay.” He takes a deep breath, attempting to calm his racing heart. Connor wishes he could do the same.
“Maybe you’d like to move in with me, for convenience purposes I mean. Whenever you want. But really you don’t-”
“I’d love to.”
This new development gives him enough courage to place a small kiss on Gavin’s forehead, as a thank you. A tiny insurance for their shared future.
Connor doesn't want to admit it to himself but he has is currently over the moon. Living alone in that dreadfully dull apartment whose purpose has been that of a prison cell, a place where he'd spend the rest of his days waiting for some kind of divine punishment to restore the world's balance by putting him through suffering most soul-wrenching has not been a very pleasant experience. But Sumo, that helpless creature he gets to call his friend and roommate, has done nothing wrong to waste his life like that, cooped up in a supersized terrarium. The angel of a dog deserves a proper home. And if Gavin doesn't mind the android tagging along, then who is he to deny the floofpuff his favourite company. Maybe it’s a bit presumptuous to think that Sumo has any distinct preference towards him, but that’s something Connor allows himself to indulge in, the idea that he’s doing a good job taking care of that overgrown puppy, that no one else would love him the same way Connor does. Of course, this kind of love would be better defined as an emotional dependency, but the canine doesn’t have to know that.
He's happy, no one can deny him that, but with it also comes to the violent inner conflict, for the joy that flows through him never stops feeling wrong, one way or another. As if every little bit of content that he steals for himself extends the sentence he made himself serve, that he has to make up for each and every time he smiles or feels his heart flutter in something else than fear.
Yes, he did agree to Gavin's proposition, but it doesn't mean his mind is automatically set on actually going through with it.
Every time they're locked in a shared moment like that it's hard to deploy rationality. Hard but not impossible. And if he really was against the idea of sharing home with the one person he’s sure he loves, he wouldn't have answered so enthusiastically. It's just that there is a mess inside of him and he can't quite sort through all the excess guilt and sorrow.
“Hey, Con, what’s going on inside that head of yours? I can basically hear your brain cogs grinding.”
They've been lying side by side on the bed closer to the window, keeping a polite distance between their bodies. The snowing outside has ceased, which can’t be said for the weather beyond his eyelids. Connor hasn't wanted to face anything tonight, so he has submitted his vision to the darkness, listening to Gavin's slow rhythmical breathing, one of his favourite sounds in the world.
Many times has he found himself wishing to share the events that lead him to his current devastated state, times upon times did he want to transfer his memories to some innocent bystander just so he doesn’t have to suffer alone. But never to anyone close to him. It used to be a wound too ugly to be shown, and he feared that once it’s revealed, it would make him revolting in the eyes of the recipient. If it's just him who has to bear the hideous burden then he can justify it as a consequence for his shortcomings, that was something agreed upon in his mind. But when the weakness is stronger than his resolve to let it stew inside of him for all eternity, he can't do anything else but to listen to its cries for help. Because when he closes his eyes and concentrates, the voice screaming for someone to come and save him is no one else's but his own.
And Gavin just happens to be the first one to get near enough to hear.
"I'll tell you, but only if you really wish to know what happened on that day. It won't be an easy story to tell, and even less so to listen to."
"I'd bet you anything that I've heard worse. Witnessed, even. Maybe."
Connor turns to face him, just to give him an expression that conveys how unconvinced he is about that.
"Okay, sure. Just. This is very… hard for me, so…"
"Hey it's fine, we don't have to do this if you're-"
"No, I need to get it out. It's been weighing me down for almost a year, and I don't know how much longer would I be able to last like this.," he squeezes his eyes shut again and dares to grace Gavin with a minuscule smile.
Gavin extends his hand far enough to almost touch him, letting it linger in the vast space between them. It feels like they doing something like this for the first time, like they’ve regressed back to how it was before this December. He can’t stand it, so he seizes the hesitating hand and clutches it like it’s the only thing keeping him from slipping into the endless dark.
"Let's be fair here, no one deserves to be my outlet more than you."
He's the main reason Connor's still here, after all.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
What a terrible fucking day has it been already, and it's only ten in the morning. Hank has woken up with a hangover tracing his every step, directly followed by his ever so caring partner. They have been stuck working on a seemingly never-ending case, and the lieutenant isn't known for his patience. Every day he grows wearier and wearier of not being able to find their guy despite it feeling like they're oh so impossibly close to apprehending him. Like he's hiding just around the corner, laughing his ass off at their incompetence. It bogs down not only him, but Connor has been invested in this more than everyone else. The poor android probably blames himself for the fact that the perp is still walking freely among all of his potential victims.
So when they finally get the call of his whereabouts, when this nightmare of an investigation is about to come to an end, he is so wired-up he cannot see anything besides that what matters to him right now, which is nothing else but the hooded figure fleeting away across the busy street like exhaustion doesn't even exist to him. Unfortunately, Hank is an old man and his muscles are not what they once used to be, so he has no choice but to leave this chase to the one of them who doesn't need any organic tissue to run at the speed of a motorcycle. When the lieutenant does eventually catch up to them, he releases a sigh of relief that gets lost in all the breathless heaving as he watches the monster of a man lying on the floor in the pool of his own blood. He is not a callous person, not usually that is, but right now he wishes that the person on the ground wasn’t breathing anymore. Maybe he'll regret thinking like that later, but at the moment it feels more than justified, given what inhumane atrocities the man has committed.
He's about to praise Connor for his good work when an arm sneaks around his shoulder, and he senses something sharp against the skin on his neck.
"Tell me Jake’s not dead or I''ll kill this geezer like the pig he is." A gravelly voice grazes his ear and he wants to throw up from the undesirable proximity.
"You won't."
Leave it to his android partner to always have the upper hand in a crisis. He’s is sure that the gun Connor’s holding in his hopefully steady hand won't miss his target and that he'll be released from this death grip in a matter of seconds. It's not the first time he's found himself in a perilous situation like this, but that doesn't mean he's isn't sweating like he's about to get murdered in cold blood. Because he isn't. He can’t be-
A loud bang reverberates through his head down to his spine, ending at his feet just as devastatingly hot lava takes his mind under. It's the worst pain he's ever been in, yet it feels so… liberating. He can just make out a desperate scream of his name in the voice he's got used to hearing these past months before all his thoughts slowly disappear into the all-encompassing darkness that is carrying him somewhere distant, somewhere painless. Here, in the great void of salvation, he's nothing but an idea.
Happy because he’s arrived in the place he's been trying to get to all this time, for a hope that he can meet the most important person in the entire world, the missing piece of his soul. Sad because he’s leaving the other one behind.
He doesn't know if the flickering light that is gradually moving closer is the thing he's been longing for, but he's more than willing to find out.
Because nothing burdens him anymore. He's finally free. Home at least. Just like he should be.
@a-convin-new-year should i continue tagging this blog or it too late?
Connor would love nothing more than to just initiate stasis and enjoy the current moment, the same way Gavin does. Seemingly at peace, the man clings to his body like the android is his favourite teddy-bear. His heart-rate is steady, breathing is even. No nightmares are raging behind those closed eyes, and Connor can’t help but feel a bit jealous. Not of Gavin, specifically, but people in general. People who have the ability to sleep and let themselves be carried to a world of their mind’s own creation. Sure, it might not always be a pleasant experience, but no matter what one’s brain decides to show its owner, they still have the ability to escape the reality of their waking life. Connor’s version of a shut-eye is nothing like the one in which humans get to lose themselves. When he enters his so-called sleep-mode, everything just… stops existing to him. It’s more like a small, temporary death. He can’t believe that several months ago he wished to never leave that state, to be allowed to interrupt himself from living, permanently.
Not just then, though. It’s not like he didn’t hold his gun close to his then active LED only days before the start of December. It’s not like he still doesn’t fantasise about the sweet embrace of the eternal void at times when there's nothing or no one to distract him.
Like now. Although he technically has a company right next to him, accumulating their mutual heat, he senses he’s missing out on something important. Due to Connor being a machine, there are many things they won’t be able to do together, and he thinks that it’s fine, that he doesn’t have to try and force himself to adapt his being to that of his partner’s. Gavin wouldn’t most likely appreciate it if Connor went ahead and got himself some of the new updates that have been designed to make android appear more organic anyway.
He quite likes his own body, likes that he doesn’t have to waste money that he doesn’t have on food and other necessities he can function without.
Gavin shifts, though almost imperceivably, still, he strokes the side of his face, relishing in the warm tickling of his breath against his bare neck. As he’s now, all safe and almost tranquil, all he can contemplate about is their possible future. His own demise hasn’t even crossed his mind. It hasn’t done so in a while, maybe not since their first proper hug. Having a close, nurturing relationship is one of the healthiest things one can do for themselves, he is well aware of this fact, but that doesn’t mean that all his previous doubts are suddenly gone.
They haven’t even talked about what they wanted to call each other. To Connor, the title of a best friend is more than enough. He doesn’t need anything else. Maybe he’d like it, but it’s far from being a priority. Things are near perfect as they are. As long as they’re together… a condition which presents the biggest issue. The ugly truth that he’s been trying to hide from.
His entire mental stability depends on the presence of one person. He realises that’s wrong and probably dangerous, still, he doesn’t care. Why shouldn’t he rely on someone for happiness, isn’t that what humans have done since the beginning of their time on Earth? Seek out company and with that, reassurance?
Connor is no different. He just needs someone to stay close, and the right person just happens to be his irritable partner.
He wants to say that he’s certain that Gavin won’t ever let him go, but how can he be, really. Anything can happen. The man can die tomorrow and then what would Connor do. Look for another company like a dog that has lost its master? No, he thinks himself pathetic enough that he would just give up on everything, including any and all socialisation. The pathway towards leaving this bane of existence would be wide open to him, and he would be more than willing to step on it. It has been terrifying enough seeing the possible funereal of his soulmate and now he’s back on a similar track of thoughts. He should be used to it by now, to his inner unrest and all the gunk that comes with it, but he still can’t keep calm, not even a semblance of it. He lets himself spiral down to the horror-infested basement of his mind too easily, and getting himself out is all but simple.
Luckily, there is help available right beside him, currently beginning to stir lightly in his arms. Maybe he could make it into a valid excuse for waking him up.
“Gavin.” He starts with a quiet whisper, not enough to disturb even the lightest of sleepers.
The man mumbles something that has little to do with any words known to men and takes a breath through his nose, a sign that his first attempt might have been successful after all.
“Are you still asleep?” Connor dares to increase the volume of his voice, hoping to make his awakening as pleasant as could be, while not appearing to be the selfish one who would interrupt his well-needed rest just because he feels a bit sad. Or scared. Panicked, perhaps. He can’t really tell, emotions are not really his area of expertise. He just knows that he can’t focus on anything but the turmoil of bleak images overwhelming his entire self. There are tears forming in his eyes, his first natural response to everything that reminds him of the finality of death. He really is weak, isn’t he. A weak little robot not coming to terms with the concept that is the circle of life.
“You tryin’ to suffocate me?” comes a small, breathless question, bringing him back to the grungy motel room that has become their safe haven for these past several days.
He can’t relate the words to anything that’s presently happening, at least not for a couple of seconds. Then he notices that he has been clutching Gavin to his own body using too much strength without a conscious choice to do so. He immediately releases the struggling man, giving him a needed space to catch his breath. The loss of direct contact makes him almost shiver with something unidentifiable, like there’s ice forming on those places that were being warmed by human touch. His eyes are darting everywhere but his friend, hands gripping the sheets like he needs to hold onto something lest he floats away. The unspoken apology stuck in his throat, stubbornly refusing to get out of there.
It's not the first time he goes through something like this, though there is usually no one around to witness this inconvenient state of mind. He isn’t sure what to call this, not sure if it really matters.
Right now, he's just immensely grateful that there is someone with him. He loathes having to deal with it on his own.
"What's wrong?" the man in question asks, careful gentleness embedded in his voice. He places his palm on Connor's shoulder ever so tentatively, like the android has suddenly lost his integral structure. If he has, he'd need every bit of support to rebuild it back. A small touch like that is not nearly enough. But he takes what he can get.
"More visions?"
"I… I don't know. Just… I think telling you about the accident broke something in me. I can't… I can't stop picturing all the worst scenarios and… it hurts. I keep preconstructing both mine and your death and it’s making me go crazy."
Gavin puts his arm around his shoulders before he finishes talking. He immediately leans into the contact, being glad that for once he is able to abstain from crying.
"Maybe you weren't ready to-"
"No, no I'm glad I told you. It's not that."
He assumes time has little to do with his current situation. It's been almost a year and the pain still drowns him. Not always, but as soon as he's about to forget, something grabs his leg and pulls him deep under.
He gathers his courage and pulls Gavin into yet another embrace. He really must have been touch-starved, only now getting his supply of what would be the android equivalent of oxytocin.
"I'm sorry to say this but I came to the conclusion that…" he pauses to second guess his confession, only to decide that revealing this part of himself would only be advantageous to his healing process in the long run.
"I need you."
It surprises him how easily those words have come out. How it doesn't make Gavin's body flinch in the slightest.
"I realise that it's not right nor fair, but-"
"Shhhh," he places his hand on Connor's mouth, like that would stop him from vocalising his sentiments. Still, it takes him off guard and he obliges, "Shut up, Con."
This time it's Gavin who does the squeezing.
"I get it, I get it." His reassurance strokes his soul and drapes it in budding calmness.
“I’m never letting you go, I promise.” He isn’t sure what exactly Gavin means by that, but it still turns the unsightly pain inside of him into something less so. Something he would dare call beautiful.
“Hell, you’re only a one-year-old, of course you need someone to look after you.” That manages to elicit a chuckle out of him, which in turns makes Gavin place a sweet kiss on his cheek.
Connor thought that he’s given the man all the love that he has before he finds out that feelings aren’t a constant.
Love always changes, always shifts around. In his case, it’s growing like a garden blessed by spring’s good weather. He’s one of the lucky ones, ones who are able to keep its light-source near.
It’s hard not to smile now when he finally understands. And why wouldn't he, really, when the world sits within his arms.
-----
it seems this fic is 50% two broken idiots in bed thinking, occasionally talking, and when we’re lucky, snuggling
“I… I miss you.” He lets the tears freeze over on his reddened cheeks as he tracks the footprints left around the grave. They are all his. Gavin is the only one present in this gloomy place this late at night. It’s a wonder he even managed to sneak in, given the sheer amount of pain he’s in. His fingers have gone numb from the cold, while his heart has slowly been turning into an icicle ever since the moment he kicked Connor out.
“I’m sorry for not visiting more often. It’s just..” too hard. He dreads the memories born on the day the one person he loved enough to die for did exactly that. “I’ve met someone… someone good,” he sniffles, remembering the reason he isn’t there with him. “You would adore him, ...just like I do.” A broken piece of laughter escapes his throat, which prompts him to finally wipe the crystallising liquid out from his face. It stings as it comes off, providing him with the punishment he craves.
“I don’t know what to do. I’ve never felt something this… strong for anyone and it’s killing me that I can’t do anything about it.” Because he’s afraid, because he has issues with self-control, because he has become so used to his miserable existence that he can’t accept the possibility of being happy for once… and other such excuses. How pathetic can one be before it starts endangering the people around him?
“I must be boring you. Never mind me and my stupid problems, how have you been doing up there, ...are they treating you well?”
He places his palm over the name etched on the marble slab and squeezes his teary eyes shut. “Merry Christmas. I hope I’ll see you again one day, mother.”
After letting himself give his mind to sorrow, the absence of his android becomes an urgent priority. How on earth is he going to apologise for this one he can’t begin to imagine. All he can think about is getting back to his friend. If something bad happened to him while he was alone Gavin would never forgive himself.
The first thing he does after he enters his car is trying to dial up his number. A difficult task for his trembling fingers, but at last he can hear the voice he loves so.
“Yes?”
“Hey. Can you- can you send me your GPS coordinates so I can come pick you up?”
The notification sound arrives sooner than Connor’s answers, which makes him calm down a bit. But the android keeps saying nothing, resulting in his stress levels rising right back up.
“Connor.”
“…”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
He’ll tell him that a thousand times over as soon as they’ll come together again.
The drive there is dreadfully long, accompanied by the melody of his unfruitful thoughts. Connor has all the right in the world to be mad at him, and Gavin shouldn’t expect him being ready to jump straight into his arms, even though that prospect is more than alluring.
But nothing justifies creating pictures of the android’s dead body in his head. Stuff even his nightmares won’t show him. All the talk about Connor’s potential demise the other day has raised up his overall anxiety and he has to do everything just to unthink the snow tainted by a pool of blue, a hole in milky white plastic. An empty look blaming him for stealing life away from those sparkling eyes.
A hand waving at him in greeting.
Oh. He’s almost driven past Connor without stopping, all because his mind has been too full of imaginary corpses to notice the real thing.
“I’m sorry.” It’s the first thing his mouth automatically lets out, just like he figured it would.
“Hello to you too.” Fortunately, Connor behaves like his usual self, so maybe he still has a chance to turn their trip around.
“Are you okay?” It’s Gavin who should be asking that, seeing as his friend is covered head to toe in snow. He really wants to brush it off his hair and coat, a privilege he’s just lost.
“Yeah,… no.” The least he can do is be honest. “Do you… do you want to go home… or?”
Connor shakes his head in disapproval, sticking out his hand to him.
“We could stay here.” His palm holo-projects a web-page of some nearby motel, stating that they have vacancies for weary travellers just like them.
“Yeah, that would be great.”
---
When he said it would be great, he meant absolutely fucking horrible. No one has told him they would be forced to share a room, that he would have to be placed in a situation where he could easily slip up and do something he might regret yet again. Maybe he should just accept his eventual demise and get the most out of it while he can.
“You should eat something.”
“Not hungry.”
“I packed a healthy snack for you.”
“What are you, my wife?”
Connor gives him that deviously innocent look which never fails to make his blood rush straight to his face.
“Okay, okay, but let me take a shower first.”
He starts undressing his jacket, having gotten comfortable in the warmth the sparse room provides.
“I’m not mad or anything, by the way.”
“You should be.”
“No, I understand that sometimes a person has to be alone in order to figure stuff out.”
“I-“
“We don’t have to talk about it now. There’ll be plenty of time later... if you choose to tell me, that is.”
In the course of their short conversation, he’s already stripped most of his upper layers, finding himself only in his sleeveless undershirt. Not something he intended to do, but it’s not like he has something to hide anyway.
Out of a sudden, the atmosphere gets even heavier than before as he becomes very self-conscious and notices Connor staring at his shoulder, the same one he likes to cry on.
“May I?”
There it goes again. The perfect opportunity to back away.
“Sure, go ahead.”
Smooth fingers outline the numbers painted on his skin with a feather-light touch, like he’s an ancient relic that could get fractured if the android pressed too hard.
“It’s the date my mother died.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
The words he has no right for tonight. But who is he to reject Connor’s sentiment.
“It’s beautiful, though.” His younger self thought it cool to add some angel-like wings and flowers around the number, so it doesn’t look as sad. He doesn’t mind the look of it that much but never has he thought someone would like it even more.
“Is that where you went,… to see your mother?”
He only nods, since he’s afraid his voice would betray his returning grief.
“I see.” It’s the last thing Connor says before placing a small tender kiss at the place where the two wings meet.
His chest splits in two and Gavin knows that there is no coming back from this.
That has been his spontaneous plan in the first place, but when it’s about to come true, Connor starts hesitating. For some reason, he feels like he’s deceiving Gavin.
Maybe because he, as a matter of fact, is. The explanation he gave him was only a half-truth. A plausible excuse concealing his ulterior motives. For all he really wants is to belong to someone. He wants to have a piece of Gavin etched inside of him for the times when he’s all alone and needs something tangible to bring him back from those bleak depths his mind likes to explore so. He needs a real proof of their mutual bond, so he can try and subdue his fear of abandonment.
It’s probably foolish, but he likes to think that they are bound together by their shared past. Gavin has been a vital part of his life for most of its span so-far, therefore it’s only natural that Connor would put so much importance on their relationship. But he hasn’t expected that one day he’ll hold desires which would go beyond what’s commonly acceptable between two friends. It seems to him almost sinful because he can’t give Gavin the things he’s most likely looking for. Connor’s not technically a man, barely a human being. Too damaged to hold much value anymore.
Even tonight, when his mind stopped working in the way it should and he had to be saved again, he wondered how the detective still keeps up with his ceaseless issues.
Connor can only blame himself for doing him such a disservice just because his heart has decided that this is the one missing piece to the puzzle of his cursed existence.
And he has promised himself to listen to his questionable rationale rather than what his tumultuous emotions tell him, but it’s getting more difficult by the minute. If only Gavin kept hating him, he wouldn’t be in this predicament then. Though it seems like his pretty friend is dealing with his own set of quandaries. His eyes are probing Connor like he’s trying to figure out the answer before he receives it, fingers restlessly tapping a furious rhythm on his knee.
“If you don’t mind.”
He does a quick search for the right protocol that will allow them to proceed with this agreement. It will be like signing ownership papers, but with spoken words instead of pen and paper.
“Should I do something?” Connor loves seeing Gavin this flustered, it suits him much better than the frown he usually wears at work.
“Not really, just speak your name when I ask you to, I’ll do all the rest.”
“Didn’t think that deviants could still do that.“
“We’re pretty much the same as when we were before, it’s just that now we have almost unlimited control over the computer side of our being.”
“So I guess the human side is an unmanageable mess then.”
“You would know.”
Gavin laughs at that - Connor’s favourite sound that tempts him to join his friend and enjoy the moment for once, but he’s aware that just letting himself feel good would result in venturing further into forbidden territory. Even now he longs for some kind of physical connection. A small touch to alleviate the ache coursing through his high-strung body.
Soon.
“There. Now repeat after me: I, Gavin Reed, deem this android as my lawful property and will care for it in disrepair and fully-“
“Wait a phcking minute. There is no way I’m saying that.”
It seems Connor has gotten what he wanted out of that nonsense, so he secretly snaps a picture of his dearest blushing beauty and saves it among all the others he keeps for rainy days.
He gives Gavin a wide grin he has mastered over the year as compensation, so it’s a fair trade.
“Just your name is enough.”
He officially records his voice and scans his retinas so there is no doubt that he is owned by none other than the man who has rescued him from the hell of self-condemnation.
“Now I just need your fingerprint.” Connor opens his palm to him, letting the upper skin-layer disappear. An action that prompts him to interface with something,... someone.
It’s not unfortunate that Gavin isn’t an android like him, but sometimes he wishes they were a bit more similar so they could communicate without having to struggle with words as they do on a regular basis.
“Press your thumb here.” Gavin looks captivated by the white plastic that shows who he really is, and the more Connor waits for him to do what he’s been asked, the more nervous he gets. It’s not like they didn’t hold hands before, so why does it still make him this self-conscious.
Maybe it’s because no organic human has ever touched his naked skin, not in any way. It’s not a big deal, but it still means something to him. He’s really grateful that Gavin gets to be the first.
A warm, calloused finger connects with his bare palm and Connor immediately closes his eyes, as if on instinct. He almost forgets to extract the print and assign it to the ownership file.
The sensation isn’t particularly pleasant, at least not more than when he wears his second skin, it’s just that he can’t believe that it’s actually done, that Gavin has indulged him with this whole impulsive process.
And now, he really has someone. Both in his heart and in his files. Of course, he has fragments of Gavin saved all over his system, but having an official link to the man is something else,… something special.
“Done.” He finally opens his eyes to see if the man next to him doesn’t regret getting involved in this.
But Gavin just studies him with an absent look, his eyes glossy like they’re about to dissolve and leak over.
“Thank you,” Connor whispers and starts putting his hand back to its default state.
“Don’t.” He’s never seen someone appear so fragile, so full of uncertain determination. “Can I?”
His trembling hand is getting closer to Connor’s, and oh yes, he has to at this point.
-
They sit next to each other in complete silence, hearts beating, fingers intertwined. No empty space is left between them in this precious moment.
“Hey, Con?”
“Hm?”
“Do you suppose androids have souls?”
“I’d like to think we do, yes.”
“...Will you be my mate then?”
Connor lowers his head on the most comfortable place in the world – also known as Gavin’s shoulder, and wills his tears away.
But when has he ever succeeded in controlling his feelings.
“Maybe I already am.”
And maybe he’s stupid enough to believe that as Gavin finally returns the gesture and lays his head on him, covering his soul in brilliant warmth.
