How the Batboys would react if you broke no contact (ft. brucie wayne, dickiebird, and jaybaby)
notes: they just miss you, okay? give ‘em a break!!! i also wanted to write Tim but I’m on my periods and got so lazy sorry guys^^
Bruce Wayne
Bruce is sitting in another Wayne Enterprises meeting, half listening to whatever the clients are saying, half repeating your words in his head.
you have refused to contact him after the last fight you two had. it has been five days—and yes, he’s been counting. every day, every minute, every second he has to face this torturous no contact phase. why won’t you just yell at him instead?
Bruce has tried distracting himself with bat business and new cases. he even tried meeting up with clients and attended three stupid meetings exactly like this one. yet, you’re always in the back of his mind.
you said he wasn’t allowed to call you unless you called first. that you needed space. that he never admitted his faults and you were getting tired.
that threw him off a lot more than he cared to admit. and although he respects your privacy, space and rules, his patience is running thin.
Bruce half-heartedly nods at whatever the man is saying when his phone vibrates. it’s embarrassing how fast he picks it up and what’s even more embarrassing is the way his chest tightens when he spots your name on the screen, a photo of you hugging a golden retriever and practically beaming stares back at him.
he’s getting up before he even realises it, leaving the meeting and ignoring every protest.
“hello? baby?” Bruce speaks as soon as he’s halfway to the door.
“hi,” your voice is small and tired, like you missed him as much as he missed you. “hope you aren’t busy—“
“not at all, angel,” Bruce cuts you off, shaking his head at no one. “can we talk? please?”
there’s a moment of silence from your side, making him swallow uneasily, “yeah. i’d like that.”
and just like that, Bruce feels better than he’s felt in the last five days. he smiles, already walking out of the building. “good. pick you up in ten.”
Dick Grayson
Dick is out with Wally at some shitty diner in Bludhaven, trying not to sulk as he dips his fries in ketchup and takes a bite. it was Wally’s idea. he thought it would be good for Dick to get out after he’d been holed up in your shared apartment ever since you two had a fight and you left. Wally had also been tired of listening to Dick rant about the same thing over and over but he doesn’t need to say that. he can just be a good, supportive friend right now. besides the food seems to shut up his best friend for at least ten minutes.
“i just don’t get it!” or so he thought.
Wally sighs, “i dunno man. she’ll call you back. you—“
“yeah. she always does.” Dick cuts him off, taking a sip of his drink, shrugging like he’s unbothered by the whole situation and hasn’t been checking his phone every five seconds.
“and when she does. don’t just pick up at once,” Wally suggests, leaning in, face serious. “let it marinate, y’know? let her see she can’t just get away with it.”
Dick nods, “oh yeah. no way. i am not picking it up, man.”
a minute later, Dick’s phone rings and it’s next to his ear before Wally can even blink. and he’s one of the fastest men alive.
“hello? babe?”
“damn.” Wally can’t help but shake his head, taking a huge bite of his burger.
Dick doesn’t seem to care, ignoring him as he shifts slightly so he doesn’t have to deal with the disappointed look on his best friend’s face. “yeah? yes! baby, I’m sorry. it was all my fault— wait—you’re coming back?! you are!?”
Wally just blinks and Dick smiles like a man who just won the lottery. “no, no, no. i’ll pick you up. i’ll be there. don’t you worry, sweet cheeks.”
Dick puts the phone down, getting up already. “We’ll have to cut this short—“
Wally scoffs, waving his hands dramatically, “dude!? seriously?”
Dick flashes him a grin, “you’ll understand when you’re in love too, my man.”
and with that, he’s sprinting down the road like everything is right in the world because you’re talking to him again. and yeah, that’s exactly how he it is for him.
Jason Todd
the apartment is empty. you left after yet another fight. it was jason’s fault, it always is. and even if it wasn’t—he should’ve stopped you. but no—his stupid pride got in the way.
you told him there would be no contact. he thought you were just angry. but now that it’s been a week of radio silence from you, he’s beginning to realise you meant that.
you told him you were getting tired of his antics and excuses. you asked him to spend more time around. to be there. to make you feel like you were more than just a place holder. and he’d snapped like you asked the world of him.
he couldn’t even blame you for leaving and asking for space. he deserved it. but that didn’t stop him from missing you. and that definitely didn’t stop him from calling your phone fifteen times before he realised you actually are ignoring him.
and yeah, he kinda deserves that too.
but why do you need space? why not fight it out instead??why leave him all alone and miserable???
Jason had rather have you angry and mean than not have you at all.
he’s laying on the couch now, phone face up on the coffee table in a quiet hope that you’d call him up. there’s something sad playing from the tiny bluetooth device you got him.
Jason might act all tough and strong but at the end of the day, he‘s just lying in his living room, listening to sad breakup music like some angsty teenager because his girlfriend established no contact.
he’s just about to pick up the phone and start looking through your pictures to hone the ache in his chest when it rings.
and he jumps. practically jumps into a sitting position and picks it up, palm going to his chest because of how loud his heart is beating.
god, he really, really hopes you aren’t going to break up with him.
“Jason?” your voice is like honey and velvet to his ears, going straight to his heart.
“hello? yeah?” Jason would like to cry and beg for you to come back and let him make it up to you but he holds back. for now.
there’s some shuffling at your end before you sigh. “i miss you.”
Jason breathes like the air didn’t quite make it to his lungs until now. “yeah? god, babe, i miss you too. so much. please come back. we can talk it out. i’ll fix it.”
“yeah, I’m coming back.” you admit, and Jason smiles, relief flooding him.
“yes. yes, please—no, wait, I’m picking you up. I’ll be there. okay? don’t—don’t worry. I’ll be there in five.”
he’s already putting on shoes by the time you hang up. and quietly promising himself to never let you leave ever again. he probably won’t survive losing you.
pairing: emotionally!unavailable!abbot x overly!emotional!reader
synopsis: you knew what the arrangement was when you started this, knew that it was a bad idea with how sensitive you were but you pretended to be fine with it because you wanted to be with jack so much, you didn’t care how. you just hoped he’d open up eventually but when he doesn’t, you can’t help but worry you’re breaking your own heart here.
warnings: cold!abbott, reader is a crybaby but she knows it, age gap, power imbalance if you squint, widow!abbot, lack of aftercare, reader has daddy issues, lena being the angel that she is, based in the night shift so the others aren’t really present, depictions of grief, mentions of sex (no smut), really long i got carried away. not proofread because i hate my writing and refuse to reread.
you collapsed on jack’s chest, body rising and dropping as you caught your breath and jack just laid there— as if waiting for you to get up. he was different tonight. you could tell from the moment he got to your apartment that something was seriously wrong and you let him fuck you anyways.
but now was the time he’d usually wrap his arms around you, tell you how good you did and how happy you made him. it was a disgusting thing to crave but you craved it like you craved chocolate on your period.
you felt jack’s hands on your body, only instead of wrapping them around you— they lifted you off of him and placed you back on your bed.
then suddenly you were aware of how cold it was in your room. jack grabbed his prosthetic leg from the dresser next to you put it back on the way he’d done time and time again, tonight he was silent. he didn’t make jokes about not being able to keep up with you or ask you if you needed anything besides help getting cleaned up. he didn’t even help clean you up. he just wordlessly got dressed and walked out of your apartment, not sparing you a single glance or word and that was so unlike the man who spent most mornings with you.
your eyes welled up with tears the second he’d placed you on your bed and then they wouldn’t stop, your chest heaved with emotion that you couldn’t seem to control.
why was he being so weird? did you do something to upset him? if nothing else jack was your friend at least but jack had just treated you like a stranger he’d fucked without knowing your name.
that sadness got worse when you realized how dumb you were for crying this way. it was always casual, he didn’t love you, he probably didn’t even like you— you were just young and easy to sleep with because he knew how badly you wanted him.
god— how could you be so annoying. you giggled at everything he said, looked at him like he painted the stars with his own hands, touched his arm like some sort of lovesick puppy. of course you were just easy company.
these thoughts didn’t help the way the tears dropped onto the pillow you hugged like it was him. the thoughts didn’t stop until you’d landed on the one thing you always did.
if my dad couldn’t love me, why should he?
you were too far gone at this point, eyes swollen and skin burning from the salt in your tears. you couldn’t stop, until you’d finally fallen asleep at 11, not waking up until your alarm finally rang at 4:30.
time for work, time to see him.
you took your usual shower, a shell of a girl but you made it work and now you were doing your skin care routine, which caused you to look in the mirror and see the way that you looked currently. your eyes were puffy in a way your cold rollers couldn’t fix, your face was dry from your own tears and your eyes were red all around.
you cursed at yourself for how big of crybaby you’d been about it all because there was no hiding this. makeup would just look cakey over your dried skin, the puffiness wasn’t going anywhere.
you pressed the heels of your hands into your eyes like that might somehow push the swelling back in, like you could undo the evidence of it all if you just tried hard enough.
it didn’t work.
your reflection just stared back at you from the mirror—red, blotchy, pathetic in a way that made your chest tighten all over again. your lips still felt swollen, but not in the way you wanted them to. not in the way that meant something. just… leftover, like everything else.
“get it together,” you muttered, your voice rough, catching on the last word. you sounded like you’d swallowed glass. you kind of felt like you had, too; because the worst part wasn’t even that he left. it was how easy it felt for him. no hesitation. no lingering. no “i’ll text you.” just the quiet shuffle of clothes, the soft click of the door, and then nothing. like you’d imagined the whole thing. like you didn’t even exist once he stepped outside. you laughed a little, but it came out shaky. “of course he did.”
jack abbott didn’t stay. not for anyone. you knew that—everyone knew that. you’d known it before you let him in, before you let him touch you like that, before you let yourself pretend, just for a second, that maybe this time would be different— that maybe you were different, your stomach twisted. you dragged a sleeve under your nose, sniffing hard, trying to pull yourself back together piece by piece. it felt impossible, like trying to hold water in your hands.
“it didn’t mean anything,” you whispered, like saying it first would make it hurt less. “it’s just sex im not entitled to his time.” you tried butyour voice cracked on the last word, betraying you immediately because it hadn’t been just that, not to you.
you’d never felt like it was just that because usually he’d hold you, clean you up, wait until you fell asleep to sneak out on you but tonight he just tossed you aside like it was nothing, like you were nothing.
it was the way he looked at you before—quiet, intense, like he was trying to figure you out but didn’t want to get too close. the way his hands weren’t rough, not really, just… distant. like he was there, but not all the way, like he never was. you swallowed hard, your throat aching.
you should have called for a replacement, asked someone to cover for you but the last thing you wanted jack abbot to know was that he’d made you feel so weak and disposable that you called in sick like the young adult he saw you as.
you lathered your slightly rough skin with a cooling moisturizer, hoping it’d work its magic and your skin had already began to feel better but it hadn’t magically turned you back normal. you tugged your scrubs back on, feeding your cat before leaving for the night.
it wasn’t until you’d gotten to the break room that you’d realized you forgot to grab something to eat.
you’d managed to sneak in, to avoid everyone so far but when lena walked into the break room to put her lunch box in the fridge she’d caught you immediately.
your red puffy eyes a dead giveaway to the decline in your mood.
lena doesn’t even try to be subtle about it.
she pauses mid-step, her hand still on the fridge handle, eyes flicking over your face in that quick, assessing way that makes your stomach drop.
“jesus,” she mutters, softer than usual, like she’s trying not to make a scene but failing anyway. “what happened to you?”
you let out a small breath, already turning away, already reaching for the cabinet like you’ve got something important to do in there. “nothing,” you say, too quick. “i’m just tired.” she shuts the fridge slowly.
you can almost feel the way she doesn’t buy it. the way she’s still looking at you, waiting. “you look like you got hit by a truck,” she says, her tone more concerned than judgmental— you often joked she was the mom of the night shift, lena took great care of her nurses and she could always tell when something was wrong.
“thanks,” you mumble, grabbing a granola bar you don’t really want. your hands feel clumsy, like they don’t belong to you. “i feel like it too.” she leans back against the counter, arms crossing. “you’ve been crying.”
“i’m okay i was just um i was watching the good dinosaur before i came in, that movies really sad..” you tried to excuse, not wanting to take lena’s concern.
you looked like that because your casual hookup reminded you just how casual your arrangement was, you had no right to be this upset and you knew it.
“uh huh— look kid, i know you’re seeing abbot and if that asshole is the reason for this say the word and i’ll handle him.” her words make you laugh, lena always seemed to have that affect— then suddenly her arms were wrapped around you in a hug that reminded you of the way your mother used to hold you.
her warmth healed you and perhaps that’s what you really craved from abbot— warmth..tenderness.
anything that signified that you meant anything to him at all, and maybe that’s what really hurt.
you knew you didn’t, you agreed to it for fucks sake but god did it fucking suck. you’d hoped from the start that eventually he’d warm up, confide in you, feel something— anything for you but he never did, this morning was a clear reminder of that.
lena pulled away first, her hand coming to rest on your shoulder. “you’re a very smart girl— if abbot can’t give you the treatment you deserve, he’s not your bread and butter.” she said, then she walked out which left you to have your existential crisis in private.
after a few minutes you’d composed yourself, walking towards the nursing station with a determined look on your puffy face and you could feel his presence without even looking at him. lena told you to stick with shen (she’d be getting a big fat kiss later), so you did until jack called your name.
fuck. fuck. fuck. fuck. fuck. fuck. fuck.
you’d managed to avoid him for at least an hour and a half and now you’d have to face him.
he called it again which made you stop in your tracks. you couldn’t pretend you didn’t hear it anymore.
you took a deep breath before turning to meet him half way, knowing that sometimes his prosthetic does get sore especially during longer shifts and you knew he was at his other job earlier.
“what’s up dr abbot?” you asked casually, like you hadn’t sobbed uncontrollably into the pillow he laid on this morning.
his eyes scanned your face as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, he was busy when you got here, he’d only seen the back of your head but the reason he stopped you was to see if you really looked as bad as ellis told him and you really did.
it made his heart tighten. he should have known how you would have taken his dismissiveness this morning— you were after all his sensitive girl but he didn’t know what to do either.
you guys had been hooking up for 6 months, last night was the 6 month mark and though jack had never acknowledged it, he knew just what you were expecting of this arrangement, he especially knew how incapable he was of giving you that.
he hadn’t let anyone in since his late wife, he still wore the ring for fucks sake. he knew exactly how you were though which is exactly why seeing the repercussions of how he left you hurt him so bad.
distance was good, he told himself. he was never gonna be the man who deserved your love but he took it selfishly anyways.
it’s not like he wanted to shut you out, he just didn’t know what else to do.
“how are you feeling?” his voice just made you sad again. he’d made you cry just hours ago yet the softness of his tone and the concern in his eyes made your heart beat faster.
“m’ fine abbot, don’t worry about me.” you replied casually which caused his brows to furrow.
you never called him abbot, you always called him jack unless you were with a patient.
he just wanted you to say his first name again. he wanted you to drop the act and tell him exactly how big of a piece of shit he was because that’s what he deserved from you.
“well i am worried, you look like hell angel.” he hadn’t meant to call you that but he couldn’t force the words back into his mouth.
“well i’m fine and i’ve got a patient to check on.”
after that you’d managed the rest of your shift without being alone with jack and usually he’d find you and you’d walk out together with plans to meet at your place. never his. it was too intimate to have you in his space.
you waited, loitering around the nursing desk and making small talk with dana and lena while jack talked to robby but after robby walked away, mohan approached him and that took another 20 whole minutes before he’d finally been free.
as normal he walked towards you, both of you falling into casual pace beside each other until you broke the silence.
“did i do something wrong yesterday?” you were already swallowing your tears. jack looked over at you at your question, his eyebrows raising and his all to familiar frown deepening.
“no—no you didn’t do anything wrong i just..” he trailed off, not really sure how to tell you that yesterday marked 6 months of hooking up and that he was scared it was getting too serious and that he really did enjoy your company he just wasn’t really emotionally open to be with someone like you.
“i don’t want you to think that this is something that it’s not.. that’s all.”
these tears, you couldn’t swallow. “why can’t it be?” you asked, half sniffle.
jack abbot swore he felt his heart shatter at that, the tone in your voice that told him exactly what he didn’t want to hear because in truth he wouldn’t mind it being more, if it didn’t feel like disrespecting his wife.
he knew she was dead, he’d come to terms with that a long time ago— he just never thought he’d let himself move on because he didn’t want to dishonor her memory, their love.
jack stopped in the middle of the parking garage at your words, pulling you into his arms carelessly. “oh angel..” he murmured, his head tilting to kiss your head while you cried into his chest.
“you’re such a good girl— to me, to this hospital and you don’t deserve a man who still wears the wedding ring from his dead wife.” he explained in his casual jack abbot softness that held underlying gruff. “but i don’t care about what i deserve jack— i’ve only ever just wanted you.” your voice cracked from the tears that leaked from your eyes so rapidly.
“i didn’t want this,” you went on, your voice trembling despite the steadiness you were trying to hold onto. “i didn’t want to feel like this about you. i knew it would end like this, i knew you wouldn’t—” you cut yourself off, swallowing hard as your chest tightened.
jack’s arms loosened against your waist. “wouldn’t what?” he pressed, quieter now. you laughed softly, but it broke halfway through. “wouldn’t let me in.” that hit him exactly where it needed to.
he exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down his face like he was trying to figure out how everything got so out of control.
“it’s not that simple,” he said.
“it is,” you shot back immediately. “it really is, jack. you either do or you don’t.”
“you think it’s that easy?” there was a flicker of frustration now, something defensive creeping in. “after everything—after her—”
“i’m not asking you to forget her,” you cut in, softer this time, but just as firm. “i never did. i just wanted… something. anything that meant i wasn’t just standing here hoping for something you were never going to give me.”
his eyes dropped for a second, that familiar guilt settling in and you hated that part, hated that you could still read him so easily.
“you deserve more than this,” he said again, like if he repeated it enough, it would fix something. “i don’t want more,” you whispered. “i want you, but you’re too busy chasing ghosts to let me in and i hate it.”
your words hit him like a slap in the face, one he probably deserved. “well maybe you should leave me alone then, maybe you should find someone who can take care of your emotional needs the way you need, the way i can’t.”
you shook your head, stubborn as ever. “i know that you can, you’re just scared jack and i understand but i’m scared too and we can just— we can figure it out, please jack— can we just...”
something in the way you clung to him like you were falling off a cliff and he was the only thing to hold you up, not physically but emotionally. he was breaking your heart, telling you to go find someone else but still you begged him to give you a chance.
it should have been the other way around, in a perfect world he’d be the one begging you.
he watched the hopefulness in your eyes dull with each moment of silence that stretched between the two of you.
“i really want to give you what you want, i really do angel— i just, i don’t know how..”
here came the tears, not from you this time however. jack abbot never let himself show others how he felt barely even robby but here he was, all teary eyed over his much younger colleague he should have never let himself touch.
your hand came up to cup his cheek, the gentleness of your hand anchoring him. “can you just try, please?” you pleaded yet again.
jack head turned ever so slightly just so that he could kiss the palm of your hand before allowing himself to nod.
he didn’t have it in himself to deny you, to deny himself of something that could make him happy again. something he never thought he’d deserve after his wife died but you had made him feel like he did tonight.
for the first time since the arrangement started he allowed himself to look at you without holding himself back, to see you for the beautiful, hyper sensitive klutz who had stolen his heart when she’d been switched to night shift.
you were everything she would have wanted for him. you were everything she always told him he deserved and he didn’t want to hold himself back anymore.
his lips crashed into yours as they’d done before but this was different, it was as if every emotion he’d been withholding for the past 6 months was poured into your lips, overwhelmingly so.
it consumed you— he consumed you.
“you gonna teach me how to love again angel?” he huffed out against your lips when he finally pulled away to which you nodded and reconnected your lips letting else everything fade away.
mhm. thinking of you having eyes too big for your cunt.
meeting jason as a one off little hook up because you’re bored and want a decent fuck for once and him immediately warning you that he’s big. bigger than he thinks you can handle and you taking it as an immediate challenge. all cocky and adamant than you can take him, “im a big girl, hood. ill be able to fuck myself on your cock for fun.” and “just because others can’t take your dick doesn’t mean i can’t. you can’t be that fucking big.”
being forced to eat your own stupid words when he barely sinks the tip into your soft little pussy and you start fucking whining, gasping little breaths as he stretches you open. face scrunched up in a wince, teeth pressed together as your pussy tries to force him out.
jason’s voice knocking up a pitch in response, a knowing drawl making his mouth start watering. tone all mocking and condescending, “poor baby, can’t even take the tip before tapping out.” and “what happened to you? why’re you crying? i thought you said you could take me?”
sniffling and trying to control your tears as he keeps sinking more and more into your cunt, the stretch hurting so bad your legs tremble. jason cooing, kissing you so deeply it’s dizzying and leaving you half in love. all whilst telling you how good you’re being for him and holding you open by the backs of your knees so you can’t close your legs, all to watch your poor pussy weep and struggle to swallow him up.
it turns him on so bad to feel you clench so goddamn tightly around his cock he can hardly move. your voice wobbling and hitching when he pulls back only to push back forward and nudge himself that little bit deeper.
you cry and cry but you’re so wet it’s almost disgusting and jason decides there and then that he’s never letting you go.
a/n: my first time writing Jean smut…. kinda? anyway pls let me know if u like it bcs idk what to think of this… also probably kinda ooc this is js what i think he would be like… that…or maybe it’s just cos I’m ovulating:( whateva
Jean is such a snarky top and such a needy, whiny bottom.
he’s a menace when he’s on top. and he’s so rough. so so rough. he doesn’t even try to be, that’s just how he is.
he pulls your hair. he kisses, licks, bites, nips, spits. it’s messy and ecstatic and gross all at once. he says he can’t help it, he gets pussy drunk to the point that it’s all he can think about—you and your sweet pussy, you and your soft moans and gasps. it goes straight to his head, turning his brain into mush. his thoughts shut off, all the logic and wit out the window. he’d be gentler if you want him to—no questions asked but this? this is his default.
he’s mean too. he loves watching you flushed beneath him, begging for more while he edges you until you’re overstimulated and crying, beseeching him to just fuck you already. but, oh, he loves to take his sweet time with you. he loves to taunt you, “so soaked for me, huh?” he grins against your skin. “cmon, baby. say please. lemme hear you.” and you do. loud and clear. sometimes it gets to the point that you’re not sure if you want to kiss him or throw him off the bed.
also, he has a thing for your neck. his palm is always wrapped around your throat through it and if not that, then his lips are there—kissing and sucking the soft skin or his face is buried against the crook of your neck, just where your shoulder dips. Jean can’t help it. even if it’s just a heated make out session, you’re walking away with at least three hickeys and you know it.
but when he’s under you? it’s a whole different story. Jean switches so fast—from snarky and dominant to submissive and pleading and god, you’d be lying if you said it didn’t do something to you.
he looks up at your with golden brown eyes—half lidded and imploring. ashy blonde hair stuck to his forehead with sweat and his hands claw at your thighs and hips, begging you to “keep going,” and “please don’t stop. please. please. please.” the repetitive “please” and “thankyous” never stop (what can I say? he’s a talker) and if you tend to get tired while riding him, he’ll just grab your waist, plant his feet on the mattress and move you himself (you think he couldn’t? the man slices down titans as a day job give him some credit).
when he’s finally close, cumming inside you, he doesn’t even try to hide the obscene sounds that leave his throat. the moans, the curses, the praises. he’s putty in your hands. beautiful, pathetic, needy putty.
if you ever try to bring it up afterwards, he isn’t even embarrassed. “you’re too good at it, babe, what can I say?” is all he tells you, making you blush instead. Jean does not care as long as he’s able to make you feel pleasure. he could get off just watching you feel good.
and if you think this is Jean Kirschtein being pathetic and moody and needy? then you’re in for quite a ride.
synopsis: if hank was hard boiled, then you were cooked fully through. Hard edges, mean, intimidating.
and connor is infatuated with you.
warnings: swearing (so much), typical dbh crime scene talk, no smut but some mature ish themes, mentions of hanks suicidal tendencies/a suicide note (no one dies!), reader slacks at self care and connor aims to help so talk of lack of sleep, poor eating habits/disordered eating, food mentions, angst, anemia mention???, reader is mean and hates cops (real), fluff at the end!
a/n: i think this is the longest fic i've ever written. it's also my first dbh fic. i'm not too sure how alive this fandom is, so i did make it a wee bit self indulgent (i mentioned boston my love). if this is your first impression of my writing, hello! if not, get ready because i have two requests and a bunch of connor fics up and on the ready. i also can't seem to stop writing this fic, so maybe i'll write a part two of when they're together. uhhh i think that's all okay bye.
we're not going to talk about how i listened to pushing it down and praying over fifty times whilst writing this.
also i will make edits in the morning no beta we die like daniel.
word count: 11k (yeah, you read that right).
crossposted to @baconlover001 on ao3
my masterlist
i do not use ai in my work, never have, never will. do not steal my work.
gif credit to @autistook
Connor was intimidated by you.
At least, when he described what he was feeling to Hank, that’s the conclusion he drew. You worked only a few desks away, your crime analysis plaques differing you from the police officers.
You had made it abundantly clear on a multitude of fronts that you weren’t a cop, that you had better things to do with your time. Hank had warned him not to mess with the crime analysts when the teams weren’t actively working together, but that couldn’t stop Connor even if he tried.
He was fascinated by you.
You took kinder to Hank than the rest. Connor deduced that that was because of Hank’s…unpredictability with himself off the clock. You were by no means nice to him, but Connor could tell that you cared for his well being, not that you’d tell anyone.
He really wanted to talk with you, not relating to a case or the weather, but actually hold a conversation. That posed a few problems though, as not only did you avoid talking with the officer’s department in general unless needed, but also because the last time Connor witnessed someone who you weren’t familiar with saunter up to your desk, they left on the brink of tears.
All of these inputs had lead Connor to your desk one morning, long before you were set to arrive. Hank called his actions snooping, but Connor thought of it as deductive reasoning. If he could retrieve information on your preferences, then, when the time came, maybe you wouldn’t be so intimidating.
Here’s what he had gathered so far:
1. You used to lived in Boston.
2. You held a doctorate in Criminology with a focus on crime analysis alongside a second series of degrees in the Biological Sciences at the age of 28.
3. It seemed you had a knack for nature.
Connor noted to look into the natural scenery near Boston within the day to strike up conversation with you. He was so lost in his analysis himself that he didn’t hear the approach of one Hank Anderson behind him until a throat cleared.
“You better finish up with all your sniffing around soon, they just parked.” He had a tone of amusement strung through his words, the events of the night weighing in his sleep deprived eyes. The Eden Club, letting the Traci’s go, all of it in the course of a couple hours.
Connor nodded. “I was just—“
Hank cut him off. “Kid, I really don’t care, and as much as I’d love to watch them make an android cry, we got work to do. Let’s go.”
He and Hank began to debrief at their neighboring desks when a commotion of voices echoed from beyond the glass doors of the precinct. The pair looked questioningly to one another before the door was swung open. The culprit of the scuffle turned around to face the glass mid stride, flicked the two officers that stood guard (presumably watching them now) off, and then resumed their path, all without breaking pace.
You marched right up to one Gavin Reed’s desk before slamming your hands down on the table, Reed’s computer shaking slightly. He attempted to seem unfazed by your presence, but Connor noted the bead of sweat running down his temple.
“I don’t do third chances, Reed. The next time you take my parking spot and make me late, you’ll be walking home.”
Gavin greeted you, your name slipping out of his mouth in a faux good morning. “Well aren't you a piece of cake today. Is this a threat that I hear?” He crossed his arms. “Because threatening a police officer is illegal.”
Hank snorted at the interaction, turning to Connor. “You see, one thing about them, Connor, is that they hate cops. Especially ones like Reed. And him saying that, well, he just poked the bear.”
Connor looked to Hank, tilting his head ever just so to analyze the man before returning his gaze to you. He made another note to look into what 'poking the bear' meant. You were utterly calm with your words, no raised tone or wild movements, side from the one earlier.
“Would you like it to be a threat, Reed? Because I counted four violations on your shitty Ford Focus that could get that thing tossed into a junkyard just now.” Reed’s eyes widened at your words. You whispered your next, and if it were anyone other than Connor listening in, they wouldn’t be able to tell what you said. “I would also have no qualms with explaining to Fowler my sudden missing evidence from your last case. What would he say to that, hmm?” You had an almost sultry tone then, and he could sense Reed’s heartbeat increase. Good, you scared him. Someone needed to.
“God, Reed, you look like you’ve seen a ghost!” Hank shouted from his seat. Connor studied the interactions, noting that you could develop a very hostile relationship with himself very quickly.
A new mission appeared to his corner. Your name had appeared, followed by a bright ease tensions note in blue.
Hank regretted speaking up though, because almost immediately, your fury was turned to him. Connor could only watch with slightly scrunched eyebrows as you made your way over to the duo.
“You.” Your eyes slitted when you reached him. You shot an accusatory finger towards Hank's chest--you emanated fury. Connor understood then that there was an emotion underlaying your anger, it was hurt. You and Hank were friends, and he did something to betray that trust.
“How dare you text me what you did last night? You don’t talk to me for days outside of work, just to send a suicide note to me at the ass crack of dawn? Are you serious? I was worried sick, you asshole.” Your chest was rising relatively rapidly, “You never texted me back. I thought you were fucking dead. I showed up to your house, and you were nowhere to be fucking seen.”
Connor had concluded that the scariest thing about you so far was your ability to remain calm. You would truly succeed at interrogating had that been a path you took, as you never rose your voice once, instead opting to lowering it as severity increased.
You took a deep breath in, holding your forehead with your hand. Once the dust had settled, the two of you stood there, neither dropping eye contact.
Eventually, the graying man conceded, looking around before giving a deep sigh.
“You cut your hair.”
You narrowed your eyes at him. “You forgot to shave that stupid beard.”
He snorted. “Yeah well, what’s it you say? ‘You can only control who you are.’ Decided to try something new.” Connor scanned your movements again, changing his previous hypothesis. It seemed that you took Hank for a... father figure.
It was then that you noted Connor was even there, eyes wide and staring directly at you. You shot him a sneer.
“The fuck are you looking at?” You crossed your arms as he realized he was caught. He stood up to match your position before fixing his tie.
“My name is Connor. I am an android sent by Cyberlife. I’m here to assist Lieutenant Anderson on a more—“
You cut him off, motioning your arm in his direction as you looked at Hank. “Did you buy a fucking android?”
“He was sent to me by the higher ups, thank you very much.”
You eyed him suspiciously, eyes raking over every inch of him. Connor had an unusual fault in his system it seemed—he could feel his thirium pump rate increasing. He widened his eyes at your stare, shifting from his left foot to his right. What the hell was this? He ran a system diagnostic, but everything appeared regular.
His new mission appeared by your figure now. He decided to extend an olive branch. “I assure you, I will keep a good watch over Lieutenant Anderson based on your previous words. Last night when I found him, I ensured all protocols necessary to prevent an untimely demise.”
Hank grew angry at the open talk of him while he was right there, scoffing. You on the other hand eyed Connor, who was sure he had spoken the right words. You clenched your jaw repeatedly, seemingly stewing over what you were going to say back, but after a few beats of silence, you looked back to Hank. “How long has he been here?”
Connor tilted his head at you, noting that you were the first individual here besides Hank to call him ‘he’. It threw him a little off guard.
“A few days now, he’s here to help with the deviant sightings.”
You rolled your eyes. You rolled your eyes.
Though his mission still laid above your head, something in him, a program he chalked it up to, risked that mission--he couldn’t help himself. “Is the idea of androids becoming deviant from their programming just an irritant to you?”
It was a moment, that unbeknownst to Connor, would happen all the more frequent the more you were around. He didn’t think before he spoke, and he always thought before he spoke.
When he saw the deliberately slow turn your head made towards him, well, he could hear Hank’s voice in his head. ‘Good luck with this one, kid.’
Hank’s eyes went wide at Connor’s quick bite back. Oh, you were gonna destroy the poor guy.
“Connor, was it?”
“We’ve already established that, yes.”
The way you turned towards him, eyes following your head, reminded him of a snake. Stunning, yet sometimes lethal creatures. You slow blinked at him, once, twice, before rolling your sleeves up.
“Let me set the scene for you, okay, sweetheart?” Your tone started off too light, too nice. Connor felt a software notification appear as your voice lured him in. Sweetheart.
“Yesterday I was called to the scene of a serial arsonist to gather evidence—the second family home—no survivors—to be set on fire in a week.” You stepped closer to his desk, lightly placing your hands down as you leaned towards him. He realized then that if you were a snake, he was most definitely the mouse.
And you had called him sweetheart.
“After that, I had to deliver reports on whose remains might be who.” He shot Hank a panicked look, to which the man shrugged in a ‘you got yourself into this mess’ manner. Connor gulped, actually gulped, and couldn’t get his mind off of that nickname you had given him. He’d never had a nickname before. He’d have to ask Hank about what it meant later.
“Later, I held onto a mother as she took her last breath. And then I came home to a text from this asshole saying it was his end too.” Your eyes had narrowed, never breaking eye contact, even as you had gestured to Hank moments before. It was intense.
And the worst part? Some deep part of Connor liked the lack of distance between the two of you. He was getting notifications all down the side of his HUD for possible outcomes and hostility changes from you. He could feel his cooling fans kick on.
“So, yeah, I don’t give a damn if androids are gaining consciousness and developing their own thoughts. Let them, for all I care.” Connor’s blinking rate increased, your face now merely 13 inches from his own.
“That is not my problem, and unless you deviate and aid in my case work, it will never be. Kapeash?”
Connor was about to reply with how he would never deviate, as he was created to catch deviants and accomplish his missions not become one, but he was frozen. You were a mystery to him—his data displaying levels of irritancy, boredom, and pride blooming from you, all towards him. His eyes were widened a bit, and he could tell his own emotional processors were running on overdrive.
Hank murmured a ‘just nod, Connor, for your own sake,’ that the android caught and followed obediently.
You stayed in that position a tad more than you had too, Connor derived, for intimidation purposes. Intimidation purposes, mind you, that were working.
After a pause you glared at Hank one more time before walking over to your desk, settling in for the day.
Hank didn’t even give it a minute before you were gone, giving a low whistle. “I thought they were gonna fillet you, so objectively that went relatively well.”
Yeah, he was going to have to self regulate later.
—
The next day, you were there much earlier than usual. Your eyes had gained a couple bags, something that Connor presumed was from the early morning. He had discussed with Hank about getting (and staying) on your good side, as though it was hard to do, you were the best there was and would be an incredible help for evidence analysis should the time come. Over the night, Connor had run through his database after going through an extensive self-regulation process with Amanda (even though he had refrained from explaining the newest addition of a mission that he was sure he created, not his programming).
He had gone through many of an approach over the hours on how best to smooth things over with you, from bringing you coffee to destroying Gavin Reed’s car, the latter an action that was sure to have many consequences, no matter how much he wanted to.
He landed on a blunt apology. That had a 76% success rate—the highest one possible.
He let you settle in for a couple minutes before leaving his desk to walk to yours. Your head was down in some files, hand propping up your forehead. He cleared his throat when he arrived in front of you.
You brought your head up to match his gaze, the familiar fury of yesterday still lingering.
He stumbled at first. Like he said, he was intimidated by you. “I-I would like to apologize for ensuing a tiff between us yesterday. I in no way meant to undermine the work that you complete.”
You glanced over to your clock before looking at him. You rolled your neck, a few cracks emanating from the actions, and though Connor was tempted to mention a statistic about the danger of cracking your neck, Hank's voice in his head halted that.
Tread lightly with them, Connor. They're trained to find faults in evidence, whether the evidence is verbal or physical. Trust me, for the both of us, you want to be in their good graces.
You narrowed your eyes at his posture, and it was then that he realized--you were analyzing him. Usually, it was the other way around.
"Did Anderson put you up to this? If so, you can tell him to fuck off." With that, you resumed your focus at the computer screen slightly to your left. Connor made no effort to move. His self-made mission pulsed next to your frame.
"No, I came here on my own accord." He couldn't outwardly ask to engage in civil conversation with you, so how would he accomplish this? He ran his social relations program for best results.
It did not help.
You shot him an annoyed look. "Listen buddy, I got shit to do. I get you mean no harm, but you need to leave me alone. If Hank wants to give me a half-assed apology about the other night, it's gotta be better than this."
It was going to be a long day.
--
Things were different now that he'd deviated. It had been a month since the revolution, androids now being able to live with equality. Connor could think freely for himself, could allow himself to recognize and feel the emotions that overtook him. It seemed as if some of the workplace pressure was alleviated from him too with the arrival of Nines, who in turn took up all of Gavin's time.
Connor began to take note of the little details, ones that would be determined insufficient not too long ago. That, and he took a focus to you.
The chill of January still kissed Detroit, snow cascading down as the wind pounded upon the house. Connor mistook the knocks at the door for those gales at first. He was in a worn out DPD tee with sweats on, playing on the floor with Sumo. When he distinguished that there actually was a knock at the door, he went to open it, Sumo in tow.
He was not expecting the sight at the front door.
There you were, snowflakes coating the winter coat hugging you, that permanent glare splayed on your face. Connor thought he saw a slight look of surprise on you at his appearance, but quickly rationed that it could have been a trick from the weather. You stood there with a paper bag in your hand, a blue ribbon with light sparkles tying the handles together. Connor deduced that you did it yourself, though that was a thought he decided not to voice.
"Are you going to let me in, or are you just going to stand there and let me freeze while also letting the cold air in?"
Your caramel coated voice snapped him from his daze. He did a little shake of his head before stepping back, letting you inside. Hank had told him that you tended to pop in every now and then, and though you would make excuse after excuse as for why, Hank knew it was to check up on him. So why were you holding a gift?
"Can I take your coat for you?" Connor offered, a soft look on his face. You shot him a look before taking it off yourself, hanging it on the rack.
At the sight of your familiarity, Sumo had run off to find Hank, leaving the two of you standing unsure of the other. Connor could feel your hesitation, and it dawned on him that he'd never seen you outside of work attire. You stood there in a worn sweater, the color complementing your hair.
Emotions were new to him still. He had been able to identify quite a few of them, like happiness and frustration. But when his eyes landed on your frame? Something overcame him, a tightness in his chest, like a foot was stepping right on his chassis. He could feel a rush of thirium to his cheeks, one that you seemed to clock.
"What?"
Connor had asked after you around a week post his deviancy.
It had been out of the blue, as he sat with Hank at the dinner table, Sumo laying down next to Hank's chair.
"Is there a reason for their...guarded actions?"
The old man had a mouthful of food as Connor questioned. Hank chewed a couple of times before responding.
"Son, they're here all by themselves. Besides me, they don't have anyone. They've had a rough go at life, and when that happens, you become hesitant." He popped another spoonful of corn into his mouth. "...That's why we get along, probably."
"Hello? Earth to Connor. What the hell dude?" You were looking at him as if he was telling a story and left it at a cliffhanger, palm raised up, and head titled ever so slightly.
Connor blinked rapidly, blue tint on his cheeks spreading. Hank's words repeated back in his head, along with your previous conversations. He had another chance to get on your good side, and he was not going to ruin it.
Or so he thought.
"You look absolutely stunning."
Shit.
So much for not blowing it.
You looked as caught off guard as Connor felt. Why did he just say that?
Maybe it was because of that feeling, buried deep within him, that pressure continuously pressing on his chassis that wouldn't let up. Or maybe it was because of the way the nearby table lamp reflected onto your clothes, the warm yellow highlighting and shadowing different parts of your frame.
Or maybe, it was because, ever since that talk with Hank, it was as though Connor could see right through you. You two had something in common, after all.
You were both pretty lonely.
Your mouth was slightly agape at the confession, head tilted in question and eyes wide. You opened your mouth to run him a new one he presumed, but before you could say anything, Hank came walking in.
"Hey, if it isn't my favorite ray of sunshine."
You took a moment before facing Hank, studying Connor. He could see your chest take a breath before responding.
"Shut the hell up. What's he doing here?" You nodded your head towards Connor.
"He's living with me now." Hank crossed his arms. "Is that a problem?"
He could tell you were familiar in this home. If not before, when you first stepped through the door, then especially now, as after Hank finished his sentence, Connor followed your eyes to a photo of Hank's late son. You studied the photo for a second before looking back at Hank, then meeting your eyes with his own, then back to Hank.
Hank did this thing with other humans that Connor was unsure of. The older man seemed capable of having unspoken conversations with others, something that quite confused Connor still. He knew people weren't capable of the telepathic pathways that androids had, but then how was the man in front of him now seemingly talking to you without a word being passed?
"No, no problem at all."
"Good."
Another beat of silence. Connor felt a little out of place. Hank didn't typically have company, so he wasn't sure what to do. You obviously did not want to converse with him--would it be appropriate to leave and find Sumo?
As if almost on cue, the one and only came running in. You took Connor off guard as you sank down to your knees and the pup came waltzing to you, hands outstretched to welcome him. You placed the bag down as you pet Sumo, a smile growing on your face. He had never seen that before on you, a smile. You seemed elated at the presence of the dog, and Connor found himself entranced by this view.
Your smile made that pressure return to his chest, and his thirium pump starting thrumming overtime. An unfamiliar sensation ran down his arms, almost as if a flush of cold air was sent through them. The feeling continued down his center, to his legs. He felt frozen at the sight, wishing to never look away. Hank cleared his throat, and Connor snapped his gaze to him, caught in the act of studying you.
Hank had what appeared to be a mix of amusement and surprise present on his face, giving Connor a look he's never seen before. The man's eyebrows were raised, arms still crossed, with a little smile developing. The abnormality of it all was in his eyes though, and Connor placed another new emotion within himself--embarrassment.
He could feel the overdrive of his cheek sensors again, fairly certain that the blue dusting was covering his face. His own eyes wide, he chose to ignore Hank and deal with whatever he had to say later, instead focusing his gaze back onto you.
You erupted into a laugh at the Saint Bernard, something that Connor immediately stored into his memory at the risk of such a noise never being heard again, before giving one final pat to Sumo. You placed your hands on your knees as you stood, picking up the gift bag before walking over to Hank, pushing it into his arms.
"Happy birthday you old oaf."
An expression of shock registered on Hank before he undid your homemade bow, opening the little bag. Inside was a clunky black tape, the words Gears vs. Nuggets, 1983 inscribed on it. Your initials were scrawled next to the date. Hank's eyes widened as he read the words on the VHS before smiling at you, bringing you in for a hug. You fought against it at first, words of protest leaving your mouth, before finally coming to terms and hugging back briefly. It was a little awkward for the both of you, hugging. Connor could sense the apprehension coming off of you in waves.
When the two of you broke from the hug, Hank laughed, still smiling. "You're a big ol' softie, you know that? How long did it take you to find this thing?"
Connor could see you poking the side of your mouth with your tongue in what seemed like irritation, but something told him that you were doing it for show. "Find that thing? Are you kidding me? I had to go to fucking war to even get my hands on a VHS tape you ancient sack of shit." You started to unstring your boots, sliding them off one by one. "And then I had to find the game, record it, and protect it from the elements. It was a bother and took a ton of my time up, so how about you go fuck yourself." Your expression remained stoic as you walked past him and into the kitchen, throwing hot water on.
"Are you staying for dinner?" Hank called out with a smile behind him, now looking at Connor.
"No, I'm planning to burn your fucking house down with this kettle." A pause, and then a begrudging mumble. "Yes, I'm staying for dinner."
He could see an air to Hank now, elated and sober. It made Connor smile, knowing that his dad friend was happy. He was still underinformed as to why the two of you were so friendly (or as friendly as you could be) but threw curses at the other every alternate word--he was sure that wasn't how most humans displayed positive emotions to those they held close.
"What's on there?" Connor opted to ask, gesturing to the VHS. Hank came over to him before pressing it into his hands.
"That there is the greatest basketball game ever known to man. Detroit Gears up against the Denver Nuggets in 1983, with the most points ever being scored to date. Ended with a score of 186-184, Gears winning of course." Hank rose his eyebrows as a smirk crossed him. He rose his voice so you could hear him from the other room. "Something that would take hours to record, mind you!"
A distance 'fuck off' echoed through the first floor. The android couldn't help but chuckle at this exchange between you and Hank. Connor turned his head to the vague direction of your voice.
His guard was down when Hank struck. "So, wanna talk about that blush you had going on earlier casanova?"
Connor snapped his head back towards the man. "What do you mean?"
The Liutenant snorted. "Don't play coy with me son, you practically had heart eyes as they played with Sumo." Connor's eyes widened. "That's a dangerous game you're playing, if what I'm suggesting is true." He took a breath. "Is it?"
Connor's sensors were fraying a little at the accusation. "I'm not sure what you're insinuating, Hank." He could feel his pump rate increase again, though this time out of nerves. That was an emotion he knew.
"Nothing wrong with having a little crush, Connor." Hank shot a look behind him, making sure you were still in another room before continuing. "They're not going to make it easy for you."
"They don't even want to talk to me."
Hank snorted. "Well, then, what are you going to do about it, kid? Listen," He gestured with his thumb back towards your locale. "I've known them for eight years. They're a hard one to crack, but only if you're not persistent. You gotta make them want to talk to you."
--
If Connor didn't know any better, he'd think even Nines was apprehensive of you, and that was saying something. Hank had left for the day, but Connor had some more evidence to go through before he caught the cab back home. This current case had the duo in a stump, and Connor had caught the short end of the stick. Tensions were running thick in the office today after this morning, when Gavin sent Nines to go park in his spot, the fourth one to the left of the precinct--your spot. Of course, Reed knew what he was doing, taking any opportunity to torture the android as possible. You had seen him leave Gavin's car, and from the second you stepped into the bullpen the air shifted.
Connor recalled the buzzing feeling that erupted within him, that feeling of air being shot through his core returning, as you grabbed Nines by the tie before shoving him against Gavin's desk, death set in your eyes.
Gavin had let out a snort at the scene, which had drawn the attention to himself as the true culprit. You had released the confused android, and Connor had the unabashed fantasy of being in Nines' place. Your hands pulling him by the tie to meet your gaze, pushing him against the nearest surface and--
He rapidly blinked to shake the image from his head.
These thoughts were new to him, he knew this. He didn't need to breathe, but felt that the extra air would help his cooling sensors work faster. Connor had been experiencing these...unique emotions more and more. The barista at the coffee shop Hank stopped at who locked eyes with Connor before he threw him a wink and wrote his number on the cup, the lovely android who greeted him every morning as he walked inside with her kind eyes. But you seemed to elicit these feelings the most from him.
Ever since the day you stopped by with Hank's birthday gift, he felt his sensors go into overdrive at the mere thought of you.
You had walked right up to Gavin Reed, swiped his files off of his desk, and then decked him right in the cheek. "Jeez, Doc, who put salt in your coffee this morning?" He had rubbed the bruise forming under his eye, taking the punch. Who knew how many people he had thrown his fist at today already--it seemed as if he had a daily quota some days. That being said, no one moved to chastise you or help him other than Nines. Nines, who whilst wearily eyeing you, sidestepped your body and examined Gavin.
You spat at Reed's feet. "Told you, I don't do third chances. Mind your own fucking business, and don't get others to do your dirty work for you." You looked to Nines before glaring once more at Gavin, turning around and heading to your desk. Connor and Hank's desk were in your path, and Connor was lost in his little world of you holding his tie as he realized you caught him watching the debacle.
"You have a staring problem, you know that?" Your voice still had a little of the intimidation husk to it, and numerous warning notifications of system overheating appeared in his vision as you spoke to him.
You didn't allow time for a response, keeping your stride before taking a seat at your desk for the day.
This morning had been running on a loop in poor Connor's head.
You had gloves on as you examined a piece of what appeared to be curtain, fixed with a look of determination. He gathered up his courage before standing and heading over to you. He was built for literal interrogation, why was he so nervous around you? He cleared his throat to announce his presence before he caught your gaze.
"Come back later unless someone is actively dying, I'm busy."
He's pretty sure that's the longest sentence you've said to him yet.
"What are you examining?" You squinted your eyes at him before returning to your subject.
"Anything that could present a following lead. They said it was clean, but I don't buy it. I just can't find anything."
Connor spotted a few splotches of blue and decided to follow his intuition. No way was he passing up an opportunity to talk to you. "There's thirium on the corner edge. It spreads all down the side of the fabric."
Your hands froze before you met his eyes again, this time holding them. "I've checked this over more times than I can count."
"Thirium isn't noticeable to the naked eye after a few hours, but I can see it perfect. It looks like the victim was strangulated." You glanced at your clock before looking back to him, ultimately getting up and walking away. Had he really batched it that bad with you?
His worries were resolved as you pulled a nearby chair back with you, placing it next to your own. He looked at you with a quizzical eye, head slightly tilted. You gestured to the empty seat before changing your gloves. Connor took the hint and sat down next to you. He was treading on new ground--this is the longest you two had ever even held a conversation. His mind started to drift back to earlier, the thoughts of one hand on his chest and the other pulling his tie overriding anything previous.
A pair of fingers snapped in front of him. "Hey, Connor, are you going to help me here or just stare at my fucking desk?" He stored how you said his name to memory. Was that the first time you said his name?
For once, it seems, he said the right thing.
He locked eyes with you before hovering his hand over the thirium marks. "They run in a pattern that starts up here," he trailed his finger just above the evidence, making sure not to touch it. "And from there it staggers a bit until a blotch here." He pointed to the bottom left corner, where electric blue was splattered in what almost made a fingerprint.
"Where, here?" Your finger was slightly off from the locale Connor pointed out, so he shook his head. You moved your finger down slowly trying to find it, but to no avail. You were so close to it, but so far that Connor couldn't help himself.
With a feather touch he covered your hand and wrist with his own. Being this close, he felt the tempo of your breathing change at his grasp. He delicately moved it to hover over the spot, holding it there for a second before using your hand to trace the thirium. "It follows until about here, where it stops."
You move the hand under his grasp back to the beginning before replaying what he just did. "Does the pattern of the thirium follow the curtains seem or go against it?"
"It follows it, which means that--"
"That the unsub must have ripped it from the rod." You gestured to the frayed area of the evidence. "I had a hunch, but couldn't put my fucking finger on it." Connor analyzed your motions as you analyzed the scene in front of you, taking in how in your element you were right now.
There you were, back slightly hunched over the desk, hair awry, bags under squinting eyes.
He had no need for breath, but if he did, the sight of you here and now would have taken his breath away.
Connor noted that your hand was still covered by his, eyes glancing to the two before you took yours away. Maybe he should've felt hurt at how fast you withdrew your hand, but he couldn't over the unknown bloom that was occurring at your readiness to have it held for nearly five minutes straight.
You looked to him, forgetting how close the chairs were to each other. "You said you can always see thirium?" Connor nodded. "I hope you know what you just signed yourself up for."
--
Connor was shocked to see you get out of the police car, especially tonight. The snow had melted, weather still relatively cold but not freezing, making any new precipitation come in thick and heavy. The rain was pouring down tonight. He ran a diagnostic of the possible reasons for your attendance and had come to the conclusion that this rain was the most probable cause. The crime had occurred outside, making it integral that they have an analysist on site just in case something were to wash away.
You didn't fare well in this weather, Connor could tell. He had been able to spend more and more time with you throughout the past two months, his ability to see thirium making him your eyes for android related cases. He had tried to breach personal topics on more than one occasion, but you never took the bait.
He did have a feeling that you started to warm up to him though, because you made it a point to show up to Hank and his home about once every two weeks for a dinner or movie night. It confused Connor, the way you were able to withhold so much of yourself from anyone. A fleeting thought occurred to him that at times, you seemed more machine than he was.
He shuddered to clear his head. "Doctor, it's a pleasure to see you, unfortunate that it's under these circumstances." You shot him a look at his words, and that's when he saw your eyes. This case was called pretty late at night, but the bags under your eyes made him conclude that you hadn't been sleeping for awhile. That was another thing he picked up on--you wouldn't admit it, but you had a few pretty severe self-destruction habits. You didn't sleep much he assumed, and he knew you didn't eat much--you would frequently work through your lunch, and tended to pick at your food when you came over for dinner.
On that note, about two weeks ago he had made a folder in his system dedicated to you. It held objectives, sub objectives, alongside the limited information he was able to gather about you. You currently had three likes, and seven dislikes.
An ongoing objective of his was to get you to resume healthy living habits. Eating, sleeping, hydration. He knew this would be an excruciatingly long task, but who was he if not persistent?
"Doctor, thank you for the help, I’m aware this isn’t your usual scene." Connor offered you some space under his umbrella.
The glare adorned on your face was nothing short of irritated. "Don't thank me yet, sweetheart." You kept walking, past him and his umbrella, past Hank, moving to crouch by the first set of evidence signs.
There was that word again. Sweetheart. You had let it slip a few times over your interactions, and though Connor picked up that they weren't meant in an affectionate tone, a small part of him documented it as such.
After all, he didn't have any friends really outside of Hank, and his emotions were overwhelming at times. You calling him a name typically associated with positive intonations, even if you didn't mean it that way, made his head woozy. He had documented every time you said that to him in your file too. He would never admit it, but when he was having an extremely rough day, he would replay the moments you called him that to ease his mind.
"Who's in charge of this fucking investigation?" Your voice coursed through the thrum of the rain, Hank crouching down next to you before explaining everything he knew.
"Someone get a tarp!" Hank yelled over the rain, patting you on the shoulder once before going to check his car for one. Connor took that as a cue to deliver the information he had gathered to you. Once he arrived by your side, he bent down to prop the umbrella up as a temporary protection for the evidence. You continued to examine the shards of broken glass, turning to him when he mirrored your position on the ground.
"Any thirium nearby?" Connor shook his head.
"Not that I can tell. Is any of this salvageable for your studies?"
You sighed. "Some of it, if the soil doesn't start to flood." Your gloved hands delicately picked up a piece of the glass, examining it before placing it back down. The rain didn't let up. You glanced to the sky, eyes briefly closed as you inhaled. "I need to find CSI, inform them on the lab tests I need completed."
That's when things took a turn. You placed a hand on the ground to support you as you stood, but his previous hypothesis of your health status proved correct, as when you went to stand, your eyes fluttered closed before you reached for something nonexistent to steady you. You opened your eyes, but Connor could see that they were unfocused, and opted for what he thought would be the best option as you started to fall down.
He reached his arms out, catching and steadying you as you came down. "Woah there, are you alright?" A pleasantry, really, as Connor knew for a fact that you were not, no matter what you said.
You squeezed your eyes shut as you placed a hand on his arm. "I think I stood up too fast, I'm fine."
"You are not fine, Doctor." He had to broach this topic very carefully, as you could become quite hostile very fast if he did not phrase this right. And while he should have thought about what exactly it was he would say, it came out before he could stop it. "This isn't the first time I've seen this behavior from you. I'm worried about you."
When you had slightly collapsed, it was against his chest. Now, he steadied you with a hand on each arm as he brought you back to a normal stance, your eyes blinking rapidly.
"I'm anemic Connor, these things happen. Drop it." You were not anemic. His initial scan all those months ago showed that. He felt frustration bubble up in him at your lie.
"No, you're not."
"Excuse me?" You took a step towards him in what he assumed was intimidation, but you started to blink rapidly again, just like he did when he got a new influx of information.
"Your nervous system is firing synapses at an elevated rate. I would feel better if I accompanied you to the nearest CSI, in case you take a tumble again." He had meant it cordially, but of course you didn't take it as such.
You took a step back from him, forcing his hands to drop from your sides. "Fuck off, I said I'm fine." He could see you jaw clench before you took a deep breath, pushing past him as you went to talk to CSI.
Something settled in Connor then. It was resolute, final. He was going to help you whether you liked it or not. He cared for you a little more than he'd like to admit, and he didn't even know why. But he did know that he could be of assistance, and you needed someone to know that you weren't alone here.
A new mission appeared by your file.
And Connor always accomplished his missions.
--
Your apartment was...not what he thought it would be.
For some reason, he had it in his head that you lived in some lair like Batman, hiding in your secret crevices, only occasionally coming out of the woodwork for your job. That was not the case at all, he realized, as he stood staring at the little grey mat outside your door.
Hank had been so surprised at Connor's plan that he paused his basketball game. He had repeatedly questioned if Connor had any extra biocomponents or thirium ready in case you fucked him up for showing up unwelcomed and uninvited, but Connor persisted.
He had explained some of his findings to Hank, who in turn replied with a breathless remark along the lines of "if you don't come back tonight you're either going to be in over your head or dead," before wishing him luck.
It couldn't be that bad, could it?
He gulped, gulped, as one hand tightened around the paper bag full of groceries. He was actually doing this.
He was actually doing this.
He knew it would be pointless to knock on your door, but he did so out of politeness at first. After a few moments, even though he could hear you inside, no one came, as suspected.
Time for plan B.
He pressed your door buzzer, and held it.
For a minute straight.
He knew that this would most likely work, but with negative consequences. Honestly though? He didn't really care.
The entire day, he had tried to channel his inner you in preparation for tonight. He allowed himself to feel the annoyance and frustration that came with your words, the little time you dedicated to actually care for yourself. He was angry on your behalf, and he was going to do what was necessary to complete this mission, whether he liked it or not.
It was important to him. For some reason, you were important to him. You made him feel a type of way that no one else could elicit, and not only did he crave it, but he was fairly sure that you might feel similar if you let down your damn guard.
Maybe he was channeling a little bit of Hank right now too.
After another thirty-two seconds of pushing the buzzer, the door unlocked.
"'Can I fucking help you, Connor?" You sneered. "What the fuck are you doing here? How did you even find my fucking place?"
There you were, standing in a black sweater with navy blue sweatpants. The shadows from outside seemed to lengthen the bags that draped under your eyes, and you looked...worse for wear.
It was now or never.
"Hank gave it to me. I'm coming in."
"No, the hell you're not."
"Yes, the hell I am." He was not good at this when it came to you.
He looked at you before pushing his way into your home, using the element of surprise to his benefit.
Your mouth gaped open in shock at his confidence, and he could tell you were a little shellshocked at what he had to say. Good.
"I'm gonna ask you one more time." Your tone was dipped in venom at the intrusion. "What the fuck are you doing here."
It was almost as if his interrogation modules had kicked in with how quick he was. "I'm here to take care of you, obviously." He gestured to the bag of groceries in his right arm.
"You're not some fucking housekeeper, and I don't want you here." Your pulse increased, and he could tell you were fuming. He tried to let your words fall off his shoulders. "I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, thank you very much."
It slipped before he could help it. Like he said, he didn't think straight around you, and frankly, your words did sting a bit. "Yeah, clearly."
You scoffed, arms crossed, glare fixed on him. You took a step towards him as you clenched your jaw, teeth grinding. "Get out of my house."
He ran a quick diagnostic on you, if only to prove his point. He shrugged.
"I mean, maybe you're right. If not sleeping in thirty two hours with only a shitty meal and a half in your system equates 'taking care of yourself,' then you're doing a great job."
Oh, he was in it now.
You took a heated breath in, clenching your jaw in unbridled fury. There it was, the calmness that over took you when you were about to lay into someone.
This time, that someone was him.
You started slowly, too slowly for Connor's like.
"You show up, unannounced and uninvited at my place at nearly one in the damn morning. Then, you start going off about how I don't take care of myself, and how I have poor living habits." You took a step with every sentence, now leaving barely any space between the two of you. He could see your tongue punching the inside of your cheek. "Then you have the gall, the nerve, to what? Offer your help?" You were standing practically against the grocery bag now, that's how close you were. "Let me make myself clear, I don't want your shitty fucking help, Connor."
As Hank would say, that was the straw that broke the camel's back. Because Connor analyzed your status then, before carefully setting down the groceries on the nearest table. He then returned to his previous stance, head tilted.
Like he said, emotions tended to overwhelm him quickly. The amalgamation of what he felt around you was built up like a dam, one that he just broke.
He matched your tone, staring you down. Hands behind his back, he was ready to pounce.
"Let me make myself clear, Doctor." He started. "You are a nuisance to work with. You are never kind, no matter who you're with. You had no friends, no one that cared about you." He saw you suck a breath in, ready to retaliate, but he didn't let you butt in. "You sleep for, on average, approximately twenty four point seven hours a work week, and you eat around one meal a day. You may not think anyone pays attention or, as you say, 'gives a shit,' but you're wrong. You are relatively dehydrated and present yourself as hostile to all those around you."
He could hear you mumble a 'fuck you' in his direction. He continued. "Yet, for some reason, you have entranced me, sweetheart." Something bloomed inside of Connor at that sentence. That felt good to say. "I spend a quarter of every day making sure you're functional for your shift, planning alternatives if not so. I have tried over and over to be your companion, and just because you scare me a bit doesn't mean I'm going to stop trying. Not when you're actively almost killing yourself." He heaved an unneeded breath.
"So yes, I came over unwarranted, but too bad. I'm staying, cooking you a meal, and making sure you sleep tonight." He clenched his own jaw, words softer this time. "You are not the only one who feels alone in this world from time to time. Let me do this, Doctor. Please."
Your eyes were wide at his outburst, stunned into silence. It took you fifteen full seconds before you responded, and though Connor was proud of his words, the familiar claw of anxiety was starting to devour him.
You opened your mouth to assumedly give him a run for his money, before slowly closing it. Instead, you opted to stare him down for a minute before looking to the ground. "I'm going to go shower." You muttered, walking off up the stairs.
Connor stood there, at your front door, looking around your living space before his success struck him. Did he just win that? A small 'objective complete' appeared in his HUD by your file, the words Convince the Doctor to let you stay turning green before fading.
You hadn't kicked him out, which meant two things. One, that you didn't mind his presence, and two, that if you were accepting help, things were bad. You were akin to Hank in that way, refusing any help until it was too late.
Connor wasn't too sure he'd get this far, and was glad for the small cooking lessons Hank had offered him before coming here--he was not programed for that skill originally, and since he didn't really taste much, he struggled with the concept of cooking. Hank had showed him how to make a relatively quick and healthy dinner option, to which the ingredients were held in the paper bag.
He blinked rapidly before grabbing the bag, a new mission appearing to find your kitchen. His LED spun a continuous yellow as he took in the details of your apartment. Books lined the walls, with a shelf underneath the television for record playing. You had a fireplace, something that he hadn't seen much of here in Detroit. There were a couple of photos, and Connor decided to take a look at them. There were only two, one of them being Hank and a begrudging you, the other of a little black cat.
He didn't see any animals upon entering? Who's cat was that?
That's when he felt the odd pressure against his legs. He looked down at the source. You did have a cat. It meowed as it weaved between Connor's shoes, and started to make an odd rumbling sound from its system. Connor didn't know much about cats, so he was a little freaked out at the sensation, but not opposed. He reached his hand down and the cat bumped their head against his hand, rubbing their face alongside his palm. The fur was soft and fluffy like Sumo's, but more textured, more delicate.
He decided he liked cats.
"Hello, little one." He murmured to the cat, who meowed back at him.
He eventually found your kitchen. It wasn't completely upkept, but Connor didn't mind. There was a cup of water laying on the counter and some dishes in the sink. He set out to wash his hands before preparing dinner for you, your cat hot on his heels at the new guest.
The late night ambience added to the personality he was drawing of your place--it just seemed right to be here when it was past dark. Warm hues flooded in around him as he turned the light switch on. Most lights were digitally commanded these days, so he was mildly surprised at your manual switch.
A little chirp emitted by his feet, the cat quickly jumping up onto the counter. Connor panicked, he figured that the little one was not supposed to do that. Awkwardly, he walked over to the cat before attempting to pick it up. His sensors registered the fur as a new texture, and with one hand holding the underbelly of the cat, he used his other one to give a little pat on the creature’s head before the cat wriggled out of his grasp. Connor made a noise of fear as the cat jumped down, afraid of the distance between the floor and his arms. He stumbled as he went to catch the furball, the cat appearing much more graceful than he. When all four paws landed on the ground, Connor and the cat stared at each other for a minute, the cat in annoyance, Connor in relief.
The sound of your shower turning off made him shake his head in an attempt to re-regulate himself. Dishes, food, you got this.
Fifteen or so minutes later, you came in to join him in the kitchen, where he was very intensely monitoring the levels of heat ascending onto your frying pan. He was nearly done, and in his opinion, it looked very acceptable. Nothing had burnt unlike when he first tried to make the meal with Hank this morning, something which he was quite proud of. He didn't notice you watching him as he carefully took the pan off the stove after turning the flame off, pouring the contents on top of the first half of the meal. He was researching the ratio of seasonings that needed to be added on top as he placed the pan in the sink.
When he turned around to locate your spice rack again, you startled him. He cocked his head to the side. "How long have you been standing there?" He could feel the thirium rushing to his cheeks.
You studied him, raking your eyes from his hair to his undershirt (he had discarded his leather jacket at the door upon settling in, and now had his sleeves partially rolled up to avoid any spillage from the food). Connor did the same to you, or tried to, as when he saw your look fresh out of the shower in a tee and sweats, he nearly short circuited.
Literally, because he had to manually turn on his cooling fans.
When he was able to move again without making a fool of himself, he offered the plate to you. He set it down for you on the table before pulling out a chair for you and one for him, both next to each other. When he had sat down and got comfortable, he noticed that there were extra bags under your eyes.
No one said a word for about ten minutes. Once you were done with your meal, you cleared your throat, and Connor could see your jaw clench. You locked eyes with him.
"Why are you doing this, Connor?"
Could you not see it? He studied the wooden table as your unwavering gaze beat into him. The gusto that he had acquired seemed to have dissipated. What came from him instead was raw and unfiltered.
"Because, believe it or not Doctor, I care about you."
He saw you take a deep breath before you collected your dishes, taking them to the sink. He could hear your heater kick on. Your voice lacked its usual bite as you spoke this time.
"Well, you shouldn't."
He knew he needed to tread lightly, but there was a question that had been gnawing at him for the past half hour. "When was the last time you had company here?"
The vulnerability in your gaze sharpened at his inquiry. That small gap between your armor had been welded shut, but that didn't stop him.
"You have a really nice place, objectively speaking for today's market."
You still offered him no response, so he tried again. "Your cat seems quite lovely.”
That made you respond. “You met Boo?” Your eyebrows scrunched in confusion. “She’s usually afraid of new people.”
“She was an excellent supervisor to my work on your dinner. We’ve become friends, I think.” As if on cue, the cat in mention waltzed into the room, letting out a quick chirp before going up to Connor and rubbing against him again. He smiled down and stuck his hand out (he had researched friendly behaviors towards cats as he prepped your meal) letting her bump into his hand before affectionately giving her some head scratches. When she purred, it reverberated through his system.
He felt honored at her respect of him, so much so that he didn’t notice the small smile that graced your features at the sight. In fact, he had literally only seen you smile once, so had he known what you were doing, at that it was directed at him, well, he would’ve frayed a wire.
“She really likes you, huh.” You tilted your head inquisitively, and when Connor looked up to meet your gaze, he could see your eyelids start to droop shut.
“We have work in the morning, you should head to bed.”
Your walls went right back up at that, face going into a scowl. “You don’t think I’d be asleep if I fucking could?”
Connor started to scan your for fatigue rates, but you interrupted him. “Quit fucking scanning me, Connor. I’m not sleeping because I don’t want to., it's because i can't.” You left to walk down the hallway, one that Connor was sure lead to your room.
His chair screeched back in protest against the linoleum as he stood up, following you in tow. You disappeared into the farthest door on the left, and without a second thought he followed you in.
Something that he definitely should have thought about first.
“Get the hell out of my room.” You grumbled as he stepped foot in. He saw you sit down on the bed, back facing his frame. The clock on the opposite wall showed it was 2:17 am.
He ignored you. "Why can't you fall asleep?" He started to scan you again before your previous words echoed through his head. He stopped midway, opting instead to take a step closer to you.
"You wouldn't understand." He could not tell if that was an uncertainty you were voicing or a diss towards him, but he paid no mind either way. He could see you winding up to fight for yourself again, but a steady overhang of exhaustion dulled your bites.
"Then help me. Understand, I mean. I want to help you."
Though you were a little more dreary with your words, you didn't stop them from coming out.
"Why do you care?"
Frankly, Connor was frustrated. Why couldn't you just accept his help? He flexed his hand, something he'd seen you do once to help expel negative feelings before adopting the technique himself.
His tone was bold but gentle in response. "I'm not going to have this argument with you again. I told you--"
But you cut him off. "No, Connor, I mean, why do you care. you're always sweet to me, polite no matter what I throw at you. You don't take my shit and try again even when I'm annoyed, which is all the time, so why do you care so much?"
Connor quieted for a second before responding. It was a bittersweet response.
"Because we're both lonely."
That stunned you into silence. A note that Connor saw and ran with. Why couldn't you understand?
"When I first arrived at the station, before I was deviant, besides Hank, you were the first person to not see me as just a machine. After my deviance, you--" Connor searched for his words. You were staring at him wearily, a yawn catching your breath. "You enticed me. I knew that I wanted you in my life, and Hank told me that you needed more people in your corner. And that's what I did."
You stared at him hard and long, opting to sit on the bed. "Nightmares." You whispered. "If I manage to sleep at all, I get replays from my past that enter my thoughts while I sleep." You took a deep breath. "Some nights it seems easier to ignore them altogether.” You took a breath. “Stay awake.”
"Then I will stay here with you. If you begin to experience one, I will wake you up." He sat down next to you, a bold move that he prided himself on.
"I--"
He turned to you, locking eyes. "Let me do this, please."
Your head moved down towards your lap. You took a deep breath as you stood and moved to go under your covers.
"If it counts for anything, I don't hate you." You murmured before sighing, shifting into a laying position. "Do you sleep?"
Connor shrugged. "I enter a stasis period every now and then, but no actual sleep. It's relatively the same process, but I don't reap any of the benefits humans do, as I don't need them.”
Your eyes fluttered close for a second before you grabbed the other end of your covers, pulling them back. Your voice was hesitant, light. "Well, get in here then."
He was still preening at your compliment of not hating him--he was fairly certain that if anyone else saw or heard him right now, he'd look like an idiot. An error message appeared in the corner of his HUD, but he immediately dismissed it, because he could tell you were serious.
"...are you sure?"
He could sense the moment slipping away, so he quickly caught himself. "I just wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable." You rolled your eyes, you rolled your eyes.
Your voice was scratchy and caked with sleep. Connor devoured every second of it. "Sweetheart, I wouldn't have asked if I was. Unless you'd prefer to sit on the floor all night."
So slowly and hesitantly, Connor joined you in bed. He couldn't think too deep into this right now, because if he paused for a second to consider what was actually happening, he might have short-circuited.
He had never shared a bed with someone else before, and that was made apparent by the way he sat ninety degrees in the bed as you laid back down. Your voice floated across from the other side.
"You're not doing this because someone asked you to, right?" Your voice sounded unusual, sounded vulnerable. While the words stung a bit, Connor knew for once that this was genuine.
"All of this is on my own accord." Your name slipped from his lips as his eyes landed on your frame, the top sheet covering your shoulders with the duvet and blankets sitting a little farther down. "Like I said, you're not in this alone. I..." He watched your chest rise and fall with every breath. "--I care about you, more than I'd like to admit. I even enjoy your presence, believe it or not."
You rolled over to face him at his words. Connor melted a little at the sight. "I must be dreaming already because no one has said that to me in a long time." Connor made a note to rekindle that topic later. You mumbled the next words, so quick that he almost missed it. "It means a lot that you did this, you know." Your eyes met his then, scrunching in question. "What are you doing up there? Lay down."
He did not know how humans tended to sleep at night, so he followed your suggestion. Albeit awkwardly, he slid himself into the covers, leaning right up next to you. He could hear your heart pump. "That's better."
Once again, the words slipped from Connor before he could stop himself.
"I like this side of you, you know. I've never heard you be nice before."
A sleepy smile pulled on your face. You were on the edge of succumbing to rest. "Yeah, yeah, don’t go telling people now, I have a reputation to uphold." You nuzzled your head into your pillow. "I like you, too. Probably a little too much."
Something tugged at Connor's thoughts. "You like me?"
"Oh, sweetheart," You murmured as sleep dragged you under. "Believe it or not, I adore you."
Blue coated his nose down to his neck, and instinctively yet hesitantly he wrapped an arm around you.
He didn't even think as he took a glance at you, so close.
You were still awake, and he knew this, because something came over him then, and he kissed your forehead.
He made a vow then to care for you for the rest of his days, if this was how it was received. He closed his eyes and he began the process required before going into stasis. Just as he was shutting his eyes, he felt it.
You leaned your head fully against his chassis.
As you both were gifted rest into the night, he could tell that you had fallen asleep.
He took the opportunity to whisper back.
"Adoration isn't the right word. I think--I think I'm in love with you."
The blank canvas of stasis welcomed him for the night.
Summary: It is Easter morning at the Nylander house and you have never found your husband more attractive then when you see him with your kids
You and William have been married for 3 years and holidays were never really that big of a deal. The two of you would do something small together and then you would either go to your in-laws or you would go to your family's house. That was until you had kids. Your nights become busier and your holidays become more of a big deal.
William was with your son Grayson while you were with your daughter Elizabeth (Ellie). You were making your way upstairs to Grayson's room. When you got there you saw William laying next to your son trying to get him to go to sleep.
“Daddy, how long until the Easter Bunny comes to our house” your one year old asks his father
“He will be here when you wake up buddy but in order for him to come to our house you are going to have to go to sleep.” William tried to explain to your son
“But I don’t want to go to sleep” he had the sass of a 2 year old that's for sure
“Then I guess the Easter bunny won't be coming tonight” you said to your son
Both william and graysons head whipped in your direction not knowing that you had been standing there for so long
“Fine” your son was not happy about what you had said but he knew that you were right
You walked over to where your son was laying in bed and gave him a kiss on the forehead
“Goodnight Grayson, I will see you in the morning. I love you” you say to your son crouching down beside the bed because you still had Ellie in your hands
“Goodnight mommy, I love you” he leans over towards his sister and kisses her on the forehead “Goodnight ellie, I love you”
Your heart felt so pure. Your son was such a sweetheart. He loved his little sister so much. You make your way outside of his bedroom hearing the sound of your husband's voice
“Goodnight buddy, see you in the morning” He said kissing Graysons forehead before he got out of his bed
“Goodnight dad, I love you” he said blowing his dad a kiss
“I love you too” blowing a kiss back to his son
He turned the light out in the room and then walked out to see his wife standing there with ellie in her arms
“Time to put you to bed” he tickled his daughter to make her laugh. He loved the sound of her laugh, it sounded like y/n’s
She reached out towards her dad making it known that she wanted her to hold her. you made sure that ellie was safely in his arms before you let go
You and William put Ellie down together and say goodnight. Once you leave the bedroom you make your way downstairs. Once you get to the livingroom your husband makes his way towards the couch and falls on his back in exhaustion.
“I am so ready for bed” he tells you letting out a sigh
“I am too but guess what?” you say while you make your way towards the space beside him on the couch and sit down
“What” he said looking at you
“The Easter Bunny is coming tonight” you smiled at him while you told him this
“Uhhhhh…. I forgot about that” he groaned in annoyance
You get up and grab his hand to pull him off of the couch
“Come on the quicker we get this done the sooner we can go to bed”
The rest of the night you and William walked around strategically placing plastic eggs filled with candy and toys all around the house. Some easy ones and hard ones for Grayson. Ellie was still too young to participate in the egg haunt. You leave out a little blue basket for Grayson to collect all of his eggs into and a note from the Easter bunny saying how many eggs are hidden around the bottom of the house. There are 30
Then you make your way to your room to go to sleep for the night
You wake up to the sound of little footsteps running to your room. You hear the door squeak openand the next thing you know Grayson is on your bed sitting beside you.
“Mommy wake up, the bunny came last night” grayson said in a whisper yell
“really?” you were way too tired to being this engaged in the morning
“Yeah” he was so excited. You were surprised that he was running all around the house with how much energy he had this morning
Grayson crawls over to where his dad is laying and shakes him awake before saying “Dad get up! The easter bunny came last night”
Your husband groans from being woken up. He looks around and sees his son sitting next to him.
“Good morning buddy. Why don’t you go and see if your sister is awake, just be quiet” he says while he puts his son on the ground
You look over at the alarm clock and see that it is only 7:00 you sit up and take a minute to wake up before you look over at your husband
“Good morning my love” you say to him with a smile on his face
“Good morning älskling (darling)” he says leaning over to kiss you and you do the same
You both get out of bed and go and get the kids. When you finally reach the bottom of the staircase grayson takes off in a flash. He runs over towards where the basket is sitting.
Will sits on the couch with Ellie as he tells Grayson that he has to wait for you to come back before he can start the hunt. You go into the kitchen and make yourself and your husband a cup of coffee.
When you get back you see your son patiently waiting for you to return. As soon as you sit with Ellie and Will. then you let Grayson know that he can now go and look for his eggs.
After a while of watching your son look around the first floor of the house he runs over to you “Dad i need help I can’t find the last 3 eggs”
“Ok bud let's look around and see if we can find them” he hands your daughter to you so he can go and help his look around
Once Grayson had found all of his eggs you went into the kitchen to make breakfast while you Will was in the living room entertaining the kids. Once you finished making breakfast you walked into the living room to tell your family it was ready. When you walked in there you saw your husband sitting on the ground with his daughter laying beside him chewing on a chew toy for teething with Pablo right beside her. He was also playing car’s with your son surrounded by all the open eggs and chocolate all over the place.
Will was a great dad and a loving husband and you had never found your husband more attractive in your life but you had also never loved him more than when you saw him like this with your kids.
