Over our Heads {Connor x Reader (DBH)}

🌺~12~🌺

November 7th
12:58 AM

{Y/n P.O.V.}

By the time everything is sorted out and done, it's gotten really late, and the snow has gotten heavier. "Welp, it's technically tomorrow now." I announce. I'm exhausted. Without having slept last night, I feel like a dead person walking. "I should take a taxi home..." I look at Connor who is preparing to get in the car with Hank. "Hey Connor? What do you do at night? Like when we aren't working." I question. "I return to CyberLife until I am sent out with new instruction." I bite my lip, and decide to make a bold...ish... move. "Well, it probably get annoying to do that. When you get sick of Hank, you can come by my place for the night instead. It'd be closer anyways." I suggest. He almost looks taken aback. "That a generous offer, Detective." I smile and shrug. "Just think it over. Have a nice night, Hank!" I call before getting into a cab.

[Connor P.O.V.]

I sit in the car, Hank sitting on a bench outside. I'm mulling over the Detectives proposal. When she had brought it up, my thirium pump seemed to pound within me. I'm not sure what to make of these symptoms. I should focus on the mission, reject these strange occurrences. But for some reason I can't. (Y/n) seems to have some kind of hold on my that I don't know how to shake. I can't ignore it or get rid of it or switch it off. I decide talking to Hank might help me clear my mind. I come up behind him, but he hears my footsteps in the snow. "Nice view, huh?... I used to come here a lot before..." He stops. The wind whistles in my ear, and the snow dusts over everything. I think it kind of looks nice. "Can I ask you a personal question, Lieutenant?"

"Do all androids ask so many personal questions or is it just you?" I think back to the gun for Russian Roulette. "Why are you so determined to kill yourself?" I ask carefully.  "Some things, I just can't forget. Whatever I do, they're always there. Eating away at me. I don't have the guts to pull the trigger. So, I kill myself a little every day. That's probably difficult for you to understand, huh, Connor? Nothing very rational about it." I walk in front of him. "Does the detective know you feel this way?" I feel the need to bring her feelings into account. "Yes and no...she doesn't need all my shit. We all got our own problems. I know she's got hers."

"We're not making any progress on this investigation. The deviants have nothing in common. They're all different models, produced at different times, in different places." I change the subject. "Well, there must be some link." I think over the evidence. "What they have in common is this obsession with rA9. It's almost like some kind of...myth. Something they invented that wasn't part of their original program."

"Androids believing in God... Fuck, what's this world coming to?" I note his distance from the conversation. He's focused more so on his drink. "You seem preoccupied, Lieutenant... Is it something to do with what happened back at the Eden Club?" I interrogate. "Those two girls. They just wanted to be together. They really seemed in love." I think of (Y/n) and my orders. My confusion. I let out a harsh response. "Nothing in their program allows them to love or desire anything. They're machines." Hank clearly dislikes this answer.

"Are you sure about that, Connor? I've seen they way you look at (Y/n). You tell me what that's about." I'm taken aback by the question. I'm not sure how to respond. "I...admire the detectives work." And her smile. "She works very cooperatively, which helps with the case." She's very kind. "And I find her company to be quite pleasant." I find being around her to be delighting. Hank stands up now. "What about you, Connor? You look human, you sound human, but what are you really?" I come up with a less aggravating response. "I'm whatever you want me to be, Lieutenant. Your partner. Your buddy to drink with. Or just a machine...Designed to accomplish a task." He seems to like this answer better then my previous one. "You could've shot those two girls, but you didn't. Why didn't you shoot, Connor? Hm? Some scruples suddenly enter into your program?"

I feel pressured. I barely think as I respond. "No...I just decided not to shoot, that's all." Suddenly Hank pulls out his gun, pointing it between my eyes. "But are you afraid to die, Connor?" My software instability is steadily increasing "I would certainly find it regrettable to be... interrupted before I can finish this investigation." My thirium pump is pounding like before...but in a bad way this time. "What will happen if I pull this trigger? Hm? Nothing? Oblivion? Android heaven?" There's tense silence for a moment that seems to last forever. "Nothing...There would be nothing..." The words are out of my mouth before they even register. And yet my words sink in like a sudden realization. It's....frightening. Hank drops the gun, walking away. "Where are you going?" Hank doesn't even look back. "To get drunker. I need to think."