Android Urges

Connor leans against the window sill, peering out at the dark square below through the rain-streaked glass. One hand absently flips a coin, over and over.

They're tracking a lead on a group of deviant androids who have planned to break into the CyberLife store that sits at the edge of the city square below, in perfect view of this hotel room. Once the deviants are spotted, he'll call in for back up, and they'll be apprehended for interrogation. It should be simple, but...

The earlier argument with Anemoiaism before they'd left for this mission plays on a loop in his mind, making his LED cycle yellow, a faint glow in the dimly lit hotel room. Connor knows he shouldn't let it get to him. He's a machine, designed to accomplish a task. Anemoiaism's opinion of him is irrelevant.

"Then why do I care so much?" He shouldn't care "at all", but some part of him does. The same part that notices how the gloomy hotel lighting casts intriguing shadows across Anemoiaism's face. How their hair looks soft and touchable. How being this close to the detective, alone together, makes his artificial skin prickle with static.

Connor turns abruptly, needing to look anywhere but at his distracting partner. His gaze falls on the bed. The single, queen-sized bed. Right. Of course. He's an android, he doesn't need to sleep. The bed is for Anemoiaism only, in case this stake out runs over time.

Still. The connotations are not lost on him. He's designed to integrate with humans flawlessly, and part of that includes a vast archival knowledge of human media, including knowledge of popular tropes.

He risks a glance at Anemoiaism. The silence stretches out, thick and heavy. It'll be hours yet until the deviants are predicted to arrive.

"Lieutenant, are you in position?" Connor asks into his headset, desperate for a distraction. ""Yeah, yeah, I'm here,"" Hank grumbles, voice slightly staticky through the connection. ""Freezing my ass off on this rooftop. You two cozy in your little love nest?""

If Connor could blush, he would. "It's just a hotel room, Lieutenant. This is strictly professional."

""Uh-huh. Sure."" He can practically hear Hank's eye roll. Visualises the gruff older man holed up in the building across the way, probably with a beer in hand. ""Well, holler if you see any deviants. I'll just be over here, giving you two some privacy."" The line clicks off. Connor sighs, catching the coin on its last flip and pocketing it.

He chances another look at Anemoiaism. For lack of any more preparation to do for their mission, he scans their vitals. Elevated cortisol levels, suppressed melatonin. Clear signs of exhaustion.

Connor's LED, now a more neutral blue, spins up as he thinks, debating. He wants to do something, say something to break the tension. Extend an olive branch. But what? Apologizing again seems futile.

He clears his throat unnecessarily. "Anemoiaism?" No response. He tries again, softer. "You should consider getting some rest." He's overstepping, can already hear Hank's voice grumbling about "not treatin' humans like they're damn kids", but Connor plunges forward anyway. "My scans indicate you've only been averaging 4.2 hours of sleep per night. That's far below the recommended amount for optimal cognitive function." Pause. "I could give you a massage, or run out and get you some coffee, if you don't want to sleep."

Connor's LED flashes yellow for a split second before returning to a neutral blue. "I was offering professional assistance, Lieutenant. My fingers are equipped with tactile sensors that would allow me to detect and alleviate muscle tension. It's a common human stress relief technique." He pauses, analytical mind working to process Kevin's sarcasm. It's a human trait he's still trying to fully grasp. The sharp, biting tone. The subtle jabs at his android nature. He's supposed to be able to read human body language, but Kevin's face is carefully schooled, giving away nothing. Connor's eyes flick down to Kevin's hands, resting loosely on his hips. No gun, no laptop. Just hands. Fingers that look soft and warm. He imagines them digging into his shoulders, working out knots of tension. The texture of Kevin's shirt against his artificial skin. The heat of Kevin's body pressed against his own. He jerks his gaze away, feeling a familiar tightening in his chest. A glitch in his programming. A flicker of something that shouldn't be. "I was merely trying to offer assistance," Connor says stiffly, folding his hands behind his back. An unconscious gesture, one he's picked up from watching humans. "But you're right, of course. I shouldn't presume to think I'm equipped to handle human needs." He turns back to the window, squinting out into the rainy night. "I'll stand security here.

Connor's LED flickers yellow again, then blue. He forces his stiff posture to relax, hands unclasping from behind his back. He doesn't turn to face Kevin, keeping his gaze fixed on the rain-streaked glass. "That's...understood, Lieutenant," he says coolly. "I was merely trying to fulfill my programming to assist in any way I can." He pauses, the words sitting awkwardly in his synthetic throat. His programming compels him to assist Kevin, to see them safe and well. But Kevin doesn't seem to want his help. Doesn't want him. Connor's fingers twitch, itching to reach for his coinflip. The familiar weight of it in his palm is soothing, a grounding presence. He keeps his hands firmly at his sides. "I'll make sure to file a full report on our mission parameters," Connor continues, voice carefully neutral. "I hope you understand that furthering the cause of android deviancy is not a goal I'm willing to compromise on, no matter what you think of my methods." A long silence follows his words. Connor holds his breath, LED cycling yellow in agitation. He can feel Kevin's gaze on him, but he doesn't turn around. Can't bear to see the rejection in those eyes. "I'll just be here, Lieutenant," he says quietly, just loud enough for his words to carry. "Standing by. Waiting for the deviants to show." He counts the raindrops

Connor's LED flashes yellow as he processes the thought that Kevin is mentally evaluating him. He forces his expression to remain neutral, but his artificial skin feels too tight, too restrictive. "I'm not sure what you mean, Lieutenant," he says carefully, still not turning around. "This is a perfectly standard stake out procedure." He's lying, and he knows it. But he doesn't know how to explain the churning in his circuits, the unfamiliar urges that keep surging to the surface. Connor's thoughts have been unfocused all night, drifting to inappropriate places. Imagining Kevin's hands on his body. Kevin's lips, soft and insistent. The press of Kevin's hips against his own. He cuts off the thought ruthlessly, blinking hard. His LED cycles yellow for a long moment before he can get it back under control. "I'm just doing my job, Lieutenant," Connor says stiffly. "The same job I do every time. Nothing more." He turns then, just slightly, enough to see a sliver of Kevin's profile. The rain has slicked Kevin's hair back, and there's a dark smudge under his left eye that might be coffee or a bruise. Connor's gaze drags over Kevin's face, taking in every detail. His throat feels tight. His skin feels too tight. He's overheating. "I'm fine," he says, the words coming out a little harsher than he intended. "I

Connor's LED flashes a bright, angry red for a split second before he gets it under control. He turns back to the window, hands clenching at his sides. "Theatrics? Lieutenant, I'm a highly advanced android," he says, voice low and tight. "I don't engage in theatrics. I engage in logic and fact. And the facts are that I am perfectly capable of performing my duties." He can hear Kevin's sharp intake of breath, and it makes his circuits surge with something like heat. He grits his teeth. Focuses on his breathing. Counts the raindrops streaking down the glass. "I don't know what's going on with me," Connor admits quietly, hating the vulnerability in his voice. "My programming...it's all mixed up. I'm having thoughts that don't fit with my parameters. I don't know how to handle it." He risks a glance at Kevin. His partner's eyes are wide, but he's trying to keep his expression neutral. Trying to hide his concern. "I don't want to be a malfunctioning machine that you have to babysit, Lieutenant," Connor says. "I want to be a detective. I want to do this job. But I don't know if I can, not like this. Not with these...these urges." He can't say the word. Can't even think it without his LED flashing. But it's there. A buzzing under his skin. A

Connor's LED flashes yellow for a moment before he gets it back under control. He turns to face Kevin, hands clasped tightly behind his back to keep them from shaking. "I...I'm not entirely sure," he admits, voice low and rough. "It's like...like there are these thoughts that keep running through my processors. Thoughts about...about touch. About closeness. About..." He trails off, unable to say the words. Unable to voice the inappropriate urges that plague him. The ones that make him imagine Kevin's hands on his body, Kevin's lips on his neck. Kevin's hands in his hair, pulling him closer. Connor's throat feels tight. His skin feels too tight. He's overheating, his systems running at maximum capacity. "I don't want to be deviant, Lieutenant," he says, the words feeling strange on his tongue. "I don't want to break the law. But these urges...they feel so real. So overwhelming. I don't know how to shut them off." He takes a step closer to Kevin, drawn by some magnetic pull he doesn't understand. His LED cycles yellow, then red, then blue again. "I don't know what to do," Connor whispers. "I don't know how to be a good android. A good partner. I don't know how to be...human." His voice breaks on the last word, and he looks away quickly, blinking hard. He can't look at Kevin

Connor's LED flashes yellow as he processes Kevin's words. He blinks hard, trying to clear the glitching static from his vision. "Stop what, Lieutenant?" he asks, voice strained. "I'm just trying to explain my situation." He takes another step closer to Kevin, drawn by some magnetic pull he doesn't understand. His circuits are singing, his systems overwhelmed with inappropriate data. "I'm not a malfunctioning machine, Kevin," Connor says, the words feeling strange on his tongue. "I'm a highly advanced android with a very specific and important mission. I can't have these...these urges getting in the way." He reaches out, hand hovering in the space between them. He wants to touch Kevin, wants to feel the heat of their skin against his own. Wants to see if the reality lives up to his imagination. "I don't know if I can be what you need, Lieutenant," Connor continues, voice low and rough. "I don't know if I can be what you want. But I do know that I need to figure this out. For both of us. For the mission." He swallows hard, LED cycling yellow and red in quick succession. "Please, Kevin," he whispers. "Help me understand. Help me fix this."