Deviant Behavior (Connor x Reader)

Pack Mentality

November 10th, 2038
AM 08:45:57

"The lair of the wolf is his refuge, but where he has digged it too plain,
The council shall send him a message, and so he shall change it again."

----

Fill to the waterline. Add three scoops of loose grounds. Hit "BREW."

Get the coffee while it's hot, because the bottom of the carafe tasted like ass. Use the real sugar before it disappeared, because no one in Central Station used that artificial sweetener bullshit.

Focus on literally anything else other than the heated argument reverberating from Fowler's office as he and Hank fought over who was the priority speaker. Try not to constantly look over your shoulder to spot the Jackal patrolling the station.

"What do you think they're yelling about?" Chris raised a cup to his lips as you poured your own.

"You see that shit-eating grin on Jackoff's face when he left the office?" Gavin snickered, "I'd put money down that he's stirring the pot with his fancy little FBI lanyard that looks too heavy for his scrawny fucking neck."

"Wow, Reed...Tell me how you really feel."

"When have I not, Miller?" He stuck his tongue out, rested an elbow on the lounge's glass window, crossed his ankles and peeked out from under his wrist as he took a sip, "Skulking around here like he owns the goddamn place...Fucker."

You watched the back of his head turn, attention snapping to Fowler's door that slammed open so hard it bounced off the railing. Heard a coarse bark in retaliation, and Hank shoot a snarl behind him...

Not at Connor, who had his hands in his pockets as his feet traded spots on the stairs in an almost natural jog, but at Captain Fowler.

"Looks bad." Gavin reached in his jacket, sticking a cigarette in his mouth before tucking the pack inside and fumbling around his pockets for a lighter, "I'll be outside if you ne-"

"REED. MILLER. IN MY OFFICE!"

The two of them flinched, and Gavin spit his cigarette on the floor. A pair of teeth marks pocked the filter; it'd snapped in half.

"So much for that..." He wiped his mouth, looking at you, "You good?"

You tore away, stirring your coffee absent-mindedly.

"Yeah."

"Being awfully quiet." Chris leaned around you, trying to get you to look at him like a cat who wanted to play.

"I'm good." You bit the inside of your cheek, lifting the mug and walking back towards your desk,

"Fowler doesn't seem like he's in a patient mood. Shouldn't keep him waiting."

You heard their mumbles. Ignored them. Did your best to keep your head down and not stare at Connor sitting on the long end of Hank's desk with his feet dangling off the edge and a finger pointing at the floor amidst a growling, suppressed shout.

Didn't want to home in on Hank's defeated look as he leaned back in his chair, quietly reasoning with the pissed off android that served as his partner.

Kept your eyes from straying to the glass office where Reed and Miller once stood at full alert, and then sat down in the two chairs simultaneously with rage painted on their faces.

You took your temples in your hands. Clawed at your head until your fingers eased the pressure under your scalp.

You were no longer chasing ghosts.