Conflicting orders - Connor X Reader

Two idiot adults and their babysitter.

An automated taxi pulled up to a two-story, two-bedroom house with a cute balcony in the front room. It didn't stand out much, other than the blaring music coming from the residence. This was your home.

The car door opened, and out stepped the familiar brunette android. The car drove off, its headlights growing farther, leaving Connor in darkness.

He walked up to the house, the music getting louder and louder with every step. He had tried reaching you on your phone but couldn't seem to get ahold of you. He left five voicemails and thirteen texts before deciding to show up at your house, which didn't even compare to the number of times he tried reaching Hank.

He knocked on the door, "Detective, Y/N!" No response... He rang the bell. "Anyone home?" Silence... He rang the bell again, this time holding it for an obnoxiously long time. Still no answer.

Connor backed away from the door. He began searching for a way in. He walked to the side of the house.

He went down the alley of your house, climbed over the gate into your backyard, and tried the backdoor; it was unlocked, so he walked in, taking notice of the two cats sleeping on the couch, probably used to this noise by now. He walked over to your phone, turning it down until the music was barely audible.

"Detective, are you home?" he called out to you again, no response.

He walked over to your two cats, looking at the collars.

"Jonsey."

"Umi."

He pet them, scratching underneath their chins, before stepping away.

He took the time to survey the surroundings, learning more about you. The mantelpiece spoke volumes; it was full of pictures of your cats, you with Hank, and surprisingly of you and Gavin. Did you have no immediate family?

your entertainment system was lined with games, all coated in a layer of dust. suppose detectives don't have much time for videogames

 He went through your cabinets. They were mostly full of pre-packaged foods and snacks like cereal, bread, chips, and a lot of canned chili. Your fridge was mostly empty, say for two boxes of energy drinks some jam, and an assortment of fruit 

Were you a poor cook, or just lazy?

... Likely the latter.

And despite the multitude of sticky notes littering every available surface and a few articles of clothing scattered about, your place was surprisingly neat.

He climbed the stairs and opened the door to your bedroom, searching for you, but you weren't in there. He analyzed your bedroom. Your bed was completely covered in stuffed animals; his LED spun for a moment, confused... How did you sleep on that?

 He walked closer; your pillow was covered in drool. He swiped it with his fingers and licked it. You were healthy. He walked over to your desk where your computer sat.

Your computer was open onto a tab 'Wattpad.' It seemed you had quite an interest in androids.

He looked at your dresser; you had a unicorn-shaped coin bank and a few figurines from various cartoons, adding to the eclectic charm of your space.

There were two more rooms to check.

He opened the door to the back room and flipped on the light.

It was full of cat stuff. Beds, towers, toys, treats, and a Murphy bed to conserve space.

Your cats had their own room, yet decided to sleep on the couch.

He smirked; cats were just as unpredictable as humans, if not more.