Deviant Behavior (Connor x Reader)

DPD's Finest

November 9th, 2038
AM 09:27:33

Normal people wanted beaches and sunny skies to beckon them home, as if that somehow promised easier days and shorter shifts.  As you pulled into your parking spot, you looked up and down the salted streets of Detroit with grey slush piled against the curbs.  The sky's furious flurries that hid the top of buildings in a swarm of white.  The bleak stares of the on-goers along the sidewalk.

You drummed your thumbs on your steering wheel, the engine shaking as you cut the ignition.  The air was cold – stinging, made your nose run.  The flashes from the digital billboards blinded you as they linked neon colors through rapid images.

Home is what you make of it, and that'd been a lesson that took a while to sink in.  But this place...with its beaches of sleet, street-light palm trees and rock salt sand; was home.

And home is where the heart is.

You flipped open your phone after feeling it rumble in your pocket.

[1 UNREAD TEXT MESSAGE]

Connor

Today 09:30

Are you alright?

You smirked, unable to shake the feeling spreading through your chest like a shot of straight vodka without a chaser.  The two of you had left at different times, you later than he – and he'd taken a taxi to avoid suspicion.

To: Connor

Just parked.  Coming in now.

Message Sent

Connor

Today 09:31

Okay :)

Connor

Today 09:31

I should warn you, I have informed Lieutenant Anderson of my "change in perspective."

You almost choked, your breath stalling.

To: Connor

WHAT?!

Message Sent

Connor

Today 09:32

He was concerned that I was "taken advantage of."  I assured him what had occurred was mutual, and then had to explain why.

You started typing a response.

Connor

Today 09:32

Please come inside.  It's very cold.  You could get sick.

You scowled, and kept tapping away at the screen.

Connor

Today 09:33

I know you're still constructing a message, Officer.

You rolled your eyes, clicked your phone shut, and jammed it in your pocket.

You opened your door, and the ground shook.  There were sounds of treads cutting into pavement and vibrating glass from your window as a 7-slot grill filled your side-mirror.  You pulled on the handle, ducking in your seat as a bright-red Jeep Wrangler; 18-inches off the ground with 35-inch tires almost ripped your fucking door off.

And...of course, it was too close for it to open.

His brakes screeched as he parked, cranking a stripped brake in place.  The cabin rocked as a pair of boots hit the ground on the other side, and his door slammed shut.  Gavin walked out from behind his Jeep, slamming both of his hands on the trunk of your car and startling you.