Detroit Become Human x Readers

For You (Connor x Reader)

The sandwich shop down the street was only a few hundred metres away. Down from the police station and across the road right at the street corner. Half hidden, and always overcrowded with people working to get their food in the minuscule break they’re given to rest their minds, before throwing themselves back into their soul-crushing work.

At the very most, the time it would take for someone to walk down, get in line, wait for their sandwich and walk back was 20 minutes. 25 maybe, if one were to take consideration the traffic and the rain.

It had been 45 minutes since you had left on your lunch break, and Connor was beginning to get worried.

It was silly. Irrational. You were a grown human, capable of looking after yourself and functioning on your own. You wouldn’t have gotten so far as a detective if you weren’t. Every logical facet in his synthetic mind was telling him that he should continue on with collecting evidence to file away and then go back to filling in reports on his most recent case.

But it had been nearly 46 minutes now since you’d walked the short trip down the road to get food for you and Hank. And Connor could already feel anxiety prickling at his stomach.

Well. At something. He doesn’t have a stomach. He doesn’t have any organs or parts that could be defined by human terms. Especially in reference to emotions. Because they affect his body. He knows they do, every time you’re late to work or at risk on a case. Anxiety, ever there. Even worse when you’re both simply talking.

He’s so bad at the talking. His social relations programming wasn’t made as smoothly as he once may have believed, and there were no clearer moments than when you two were talking. Language- it changed and developed over time. It changed in seconds depending on the tone of which someone used their words. You could sit there and talk earnestly about anything and everything, and he’d try to match that. Sometimes it would turn out fine. Smooth, even. But he’d fumble some words, stumble and retract statements when the code in his head came up with something better. At times he’d even blank out.

Like earlier today when you suggested he come with you to get food.

“I don’t eat.” He’d said bluntly, looking up briefly from his report to glance your way. Work seemed like the priority, and he didn’t want to waste time, even if it was you.

When Connor looked into your eyes, he proceeded to regret everything from his existence to now. Your face fell, an expression visible for only seconds. But it was enough to make him feel like a hole had open up inside him. Hank sighed loudly from behind his desk but didn’t say anything else. And by the time Connor had come up with a good way to save the situation, you’d recovered.

“Oh, okay. Well, I’m gonna go,” You began, waving as the overwhelming urge to follow you hit Connor like a train. His legs were like lead, however, and the signals to stand were going to the wrong places, making his fingers twitch and holding words at the tip of his tongue.

“Back in like 10? Bye!” And like that you were just gone, leaving him staring at the space you vacated, the words only now letting loose from his lips. Like his entire brain had just lagged out.

“I would… still like to come along, however.” Connor sighed, more to himself than anything. He was sure the situation could get no worse when Hank snorted, giving him a look over the terminal.

“Real smooth.” His thirium pump, which he was sure had stopped working once you’d started speaking, pumped blue blood to his cheeks as he looked back to his work, unable to concentrate or think straight any longer.

That had been 48 minutes ago. And you were still gone.

Like a hook has grabbed his power core, and is tugging at it at intermittent intervals. That’s what he feels like now, looking to the precinct entrance for the 5th time that minute. Insides aching to see you come in through the front doors, safe and sound.