I thought I couldn't participate this year but this tiktok video inspired the whole thing lol. If only I had found it earlier.
For the ConVin enjoyers. :)
Prompts used in chapter 1: (1) welcome back, (4) show me, (14) family, (15) dinner. Thank you @convinseptember for hosting the event. 💙
📷 (c) ClancySPCS, Andrew Teoh
Matcha Latte (8183 words) by ConnorGavinARMY
Chapters: 1/2
Fandom: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Summary:
Gavin Reed, proud owner of Reed's Coffee and winner of the World Barista Championship two years ago, hated matcha with all his being. So much so that he had a big poster in his cafe that read: FUCK MATCHA.
When Connor, newly returned from Japan after studying the art of authentic matcha and wagashi desserts, got triggered by the poster, he opened a matcha shop right across the street.
A tense encounter turned into a challenge, and the challenge turned into prank wars.
But when the pranks took a serious turn and someone got injured, they had to put their prejudice aside and work together.
or,
Coffee Shop AU but make it ConVin and also a casefic. Hehe.
Written for Convin September 2025.
The cold water does nothing to quiet his distressed heart, it only succeeds in putting him even more on edge, just as he is afraid it might. As his body slowly succumbs to the sweet feeling of numbness, he goes over the events of this night in his head, thinking whether he should just give in and let himself be selfish. As long as they're here, in a place far away from their everyday lives, what could stop them from enjoying a little harmless make-believe.
Except when his playmate is Connor, nothing is ever risk-free and safe. Gavin should lock himself in the bathroom till the morning, then drive them home and never talk to the android ever again, for both of their sakes. A plan that has more holes than a colander. First of all, he’s really fucking tired and a bed, no matter how uncomfortable, is something he’s physically unable to turn down. Besides, they are work partners, if nothing else, and he doesn’t want to entrust Connor to some stranger. Not that he’s worried the tin can won’t handle himself, it’s just… he got so used to having him around to help him with the stuff his stupid human brain isn’t equipped to carry out that he can’t even imagine being on his own. He’s never had a partner last this long, and frankly, it would be a shame to ruin their job-efficiency just because one of them can’t keep his mouth shut.
His very smart thoughts get interrupted by an uninvited cough, serving to make him aware of his partially clogged sinuses threatening to make the following days hell if continues treating himself like a war criminal. He has no choice but to cave in and turn the faucet handle the opposite way. No one fancies catching cold and Gavin isn’t an exception.
❄️ ❄️ ❄️
“Ahh phcking shower!”
A scream coming from the bathroom halts Connor’s unnecessary tidying session, making his stress-level rise significantly.
He runs to the door and knocks on it without letting his head construct any possible scenarios. Remaining calm is the priority.
“Are you okay?” he yells through the sound of running water, ready to barge in if there is no reply.
“Yeah, yeah I’m fine, just almost got boiled alive.” He rests his back against the wall as relief washes over him. There is a myriad of possible responses he’d like to use behind his closed eyes, but all he manages to say is a silent “Hurry up and come here.”
The devil on his shoulder is enticing him to go and take a peek, the door isn’t locked after all... the main reason for which is the faith Gavin has in him. He knows Connor would never invade his privacy unless specifically asked, so he resumes dusting the empty closet. It’s important to make sure the environment here is best suitable for his human’s health, for he heard the cough coming from the next room. Nothing escapes his sensor, not even the fact that Gavin’s body is well on its path to a proper fever if someone doesn’t take care of him. The man himself is the least like to do just that, so it’s up to Connor to prevent him from getting sick. And if he fails, at least he’ll have an excuse to get close to his friend without it having the additional implications they like to avoid so much.
After he’s done with cleaning the room, he changes into something resembling pyjamas, just so doesn’t carry around the dirt gathered by his usual clothes. It does provide a sense of comfort as well, and not only for him. Surely, Gavin would be pleased to see a more human-like behaviour from him.
He sighs and sits upon a bed closer to the window, hugging his knees in need of grounding himself a bit. It’s snowing heavily behind the drawn curtain, he doesn’t have to see it to know.
It goes together with the blizzard inside his mind, giving him the only other acceptable company.
Connor doesn’t regret letting his affection show, he doesn’t wish to take it back, but it still doesn’t sit well with him. It feels like he’s done something terribly wrong, something that would destroy the slight bond between them.
Nevertheless, he doesn’t let it bother him when Gavin emerges from the bathroom dressed only in thin sleepwear, his eyes tearing up as he yawns. Connor doesn’t waste the opportunity to annoy him and throws at him the ugly Christmas sweater he packed specifically for this reason.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” the man stares at the thing incredulously, about to chuck it back where it came from.
“You need something to keep you warm during the night.”
“Thanks, but no phcking way I’m wearing that.” But he doesn’t return it, instead, he casually lays the sweater on top of his bag and goes to turn off the light.
Before he has the chance to argue, the detective buries himself under his blanket and whisper an almost inaudible “goodnight.” Connor detects him shivering, sees how he curls into a ball to gather the smallest amount of heat.
That won’t do. He stands up from his own bed and slowly walks over to his cold friend, gently placing an extra blanket over him. Androids don’t usually perceive the effects of temperature, so it’s only fair Connor gives his to the detective. Doesn’t mean he has to tuck him in like a baby and wish him sweet dreams, but who ever will stop him.
❄️ ❄️ ❄️
Gavin planned on staying up all night, savouring the rare moment of peace when Connor’s there with him but not too near to make him self-conscious. So, of course, he had to fall asleep as soon as the weight of a second blanket made him warm and cosy enough to sublime.
He wakes up without remembering any of his dreams, which is for the best. His head doesn’t hurt like it normally does in the mornings and he even dares to think that he’s well-rested, which would be a first this year. Connor greets him with a cup of coffee in his hand and a bright smile on his face, which is the moment he decides he doesn’t ever want to leave this place. Or maybe just for a couple more days.
“Good morning, Gavin.” No “detective” this time, huh. Perhaps he really will spend the rest of his life w̶i̶t̶h̶ ̶C̶o̶n̶n̶o̶r̶ here.
“Mornin’,” he mumbles, too flustered to address him in any way.
“I bought you breakfast. Your favourite.”
“Coffee and aspirin?”
“And croissants." Gavin has to hold himself back as not to say something stupid like 'I love you', so he just takes the offered items while muttering a quiet "thank you".
"It has been snowing all night."
He sips on the bitter hot delight while listening to Connor's heavenly voice, a scene belonging to his fantasies, yet a part of his current reality.
"I don't think it's a good idea to even step outside, least drive. The temperature is too low, and the piled-up sn-"
"Yeah, okay. We'll stay here until the weather clears up." That is definitely too eager of a reaction, but he had to get it out there before his self defense mechanism kicks in.
He glances out of the window only to notice it has frozen over, limiting his view to the outside world. Still, the snowflakes dancing in the wind have a way of letting themselves be recognised, so Gavin sends them soundless gratitude and bites into the still-warm pastry.
It’s not Christmas yet, but he already knows he won’t ever forget this year’s holiday, no matter where he ends up spending them.
