Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Nothing’s wrong with you,” you huff to the android sitting on the operating table in front of you. 

“Yes, there is. Look again,” says RK900, matter-of-factly. 

“No, there’s not…” you draw out your words slowly to emphasize your point. “I’ve performed a full body scan and checked your vitals twice… Nothing’s wrong. Here–Look–” You flip around the tablet in your hands and present the android with the recorded results of your tests. 

RK900 glances briefly at the screen with his cold grey eyes, “Yes, I see that your tests have come out negative, but my internal diagnostics still report a mechanical failure.” 

You shrug dramatically, “I can’t find anything mechanically wrong with you.”

“You’re mistaken. Look again.”

“I’m passing you onto Amanda… this is a software issue…”

“It is not a software issue. My internal diagnostics report–”

“--Well, your internal diagnostics are wrong, buddy!” you shout. RK900 merely blinks in response. Your sudden outburst appears to have made no effect on him. His indicator light still shines a solid blue but the indicator is not immune to failure. You sigh heavily and explain, “Look, if your internal diagnostics are reporting a ‘mechanical failure’ and I’ve scanned your entire body and found nothing wrong with you––then you clearly have a software problem with your internal diagnostics.”

“Then fix it.”

“I can’t. I’m a mechanical engineer and software errors are beyond my purview.”

“You’re intelligent. You can figure it out.”

You raise an eyebrow, skeptically, “Uhh… okay, yeah, maybe? But that’s not my job! Cyberlife developed the Amanda AI for a reason. Her programming is far more equipped to handle your software issues than little ol’ me.”

“Your scanning equipment must be faulty. I have a mechanical error. Perhaps you should perform a more thorough full-body assessment.”

“First of all—Don’t tell me how to do my job, android!” You shout and then quieter, “But if a manual full-body assessment will get you out of my room—then fine.”

You clench your teeth, bracing for what’s to come. 

The handsome android stands up and disrobes from his slick white and black uniform. Each article of clothing is folded perfectly before he lays bare-ass naked on the operating table. You look around the small room nervously. At Cyberlife, all operating rooms are made of four completely clear plexiglass walls. This is a safety precaution as much as it is a design choice. If an android were to turn violent, there are witnesses… and if it’s too late to save the engineer, the doors auto-lock and the walls are bullet proof. 

However, when the androids you work with are so life-like, it feels awkward to have them undress in a completely exposed room. But, of course, this is only a projection of your human emotions onto the android models. The androids themselves see no issue with nudity. They have no sense of shame. And why would they? They were built to be perfect. 

On his back, RK900 opens his chest cavity. 

Don’t look at his cock. Don’t look at his cock. Don’t look at his cock, you chant to yourself. 

You feel like such a creep. You curse Kamski silently for insisting that all the android models be beautiful. It would be much easier to act professionally, if they looked like goblins. And seriously, why do they have to be anatomically correct? All Connor models are assigned to the Detroit Police Department. It’s not like they’re sexbots designed for the Eden Club. But alas, Cyberlife’s dirty little internal motto is “All machines must satisfy all human needs,” which is just the corporate way of saying, “if a human wants to fuck it, it’s got to be fuckable.”

“Miss?” RK900 beckons.

“Ah! Right! Yes!” You shake out of your daze and approach the android on the operating table. You give his innard mechanisms a quick visual inspection. “Uhh… yep! Everything looks good—er normal!” You spin around looking for something to busy yourself with while RK900 puts himself back together. But, before you can walk away, the android grabs you by the wrist and spins you back towards him. 

You gasp. Your freehand immediately reaches for the panic button hanging around your neck. 

“At ease,” RK900 commands and for some stupid reason—you listen. You relax your shoulders but the android still has a tight grip on your wrist. He guides your hand into his open chest cavity, placing it on a valve that pumps blue thirium blood into this artificial heart. “Take a closer look.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you, android...” and then you whisper low enough that the security cameras won’t pick up your voice on the recording, “But if you don’t knock it off, I’ll make sure you walk out of here with a bunch of new mechanical errors.”

RK900 exhales in response, but you swear it was a haughty laugh in disguise. 

“But, sure… I’ll poke around to assuage your paranoia.”

“I am not paranoid. I have a mechanical error.”

You roll your eyes but continue a more thorough evaluation of his vital mechanisms. You gently press on a few wires to make sure they are securely plugged into his power supply. You check the values of his liquid coolant, and while the valves seem a little warmer to the touch, they are still within an average temperature range. “Yeah… I’m still not seeing any—” you stop yourself short when you glance up to meet the android’s eyes and you find the corner of his lips upturned in a subtle but cheeky smirk. “Are you—Are you getting some kind of sick thrill out of this, android?!” 

His smirk dissolves immediately, “I am a machine. I derive no pleasure of any kind from anything.”

“Uh huh, sure…” you say unconvinced. “Because if you did, I would have to report this anomaly as deviant behavior to my supervisor.” 

“I am not a deviant,” he states firmly. 

“Good. But there is something wrong with your software, if your internal diagnostics are still reporting a mechanical error. Because—for the hundredth time—you have nothing physically wrong—”

“--What is distressing you?” he asks suddenly. 

“What? Nothing? What are you talking—”

“--Your vitals are elevated.”

“Okay, well, first of all—don’t fucking check my vitals. I didn’t give you permission and I am not one of your suspects—so keep your little sensitive peepers to yourself. And secondly—I don’t know—I had coffee on my lunch break it’s probably just the caffeine or—-”

“--It’s not the caffeine,” he interrupts. “Your vitals were average when I came in and they remained average until I got undressed.”

“What are you implying, RK900?” you nearly growl at him. “And choose your words very carefully, because I am just about ready to mark your file for immediate deactivation.”

“I am not implying anything,” he states, coldly. “I was merely giving you the facts. The conclusions you draw from those facts are entirely your own and none of my business.”

“Right. Exactly. And my vitals, in general, are none of your business. So, fuck off. I have a right to privacy.”

“Sure.” 

You successfully walk away from the operating table towards your small desk in the corner of the room. “I’ve had enough of you, RK900. Make yourself decent and I’m sending you to Amanda.”

You hear RK900 shuffle back into his uniform behind you as you fill out a request form for Amanda to perform a ‘baseline test’ to check for deviant traits. 

Only once you’re certain he’s finished, you turn back around to face him. “This is your one and only warning, RK900. Do not come back to me for repairs, unless you are bleeding from the eyeballs or suffering from some other critical mechanical failure. My schedule is fully booked with androids that actually need my help. Just because you are a state-funded android that gets to cut in line, doesn’t mean that I will tolerate you abusing the system for every little cosmetic bump and scratch that you get in the field.”

His steel-colored eyes watch you from across the room with a bone-chilling neutrality. Your threats are obviously ineffective. You doubt he’s learned his lesson. 

“Okay…” you sigh heavily. “Now, walk yourself back to the station and report to Amanda immediately. A failure to meet with her within the next two hours will result in an automatic kill-switch deactivation. Understood?”

The android nods once and leaves the room.

***

Your last few appointments of the day are particularly brutal and taxing. A demolition site disaster resulted in three critically damaged construction androids. By the time each limb was replaced and properly installed, it was way past quitting time and already dark outside for your commute home. The bus drops you off only a block away from your apartment complex, but when you round the corner you see several cop cars parked outside your building with their lights on. 

You groan and assume there was another big drug bust. You’re nearly certain that your upstairs neighbors are dealers. Or, at least, you assume that’s why there are multiple sets of footsteps stomping around at all hours of the night. 

But when you get closer, you realize that the situation is a little more serious than you initially thought. There’s crime scene tape stretching across the sidewalk blocking you from the entrance to your building and large red and blue stains marring the concrete. 

As you approach the police perimeter, a cop starts walking towards you, “Miss, you can’t be here—“

“—I’ll take care of it,” a familiar voice interjects. Crouched beside the horrific stains and the owner of the familiar voice is RK800. The original prototype of the Connor model. Unlike the more advanced model, this android has sweet, deep brown eyes. You admit that the tenderness you see in those eyes is most likely just a projection of your own feelings. And that’s because this specific RK unit was the first life-like android you ever operated on at Cyberlife. It was just two years ago, before any other Connor model was made, that this android was rushed into your office covered in his own thirium. You were still just an assistant at that time but Cyberlife was inundated with broken androids from a violent riot downtown and you were the only one left available to operate on the dying android. Connor was barely clinging to consciousness when you ripped open his chest cavity and started fixing the leak in his artificial heart. The android cop was shot multiple times defending his human partner, Hank, and required six new valves and three bags of thirium to replace the vital fluid he had lost. 

You were nervous as hell operating on such an advanced machine for the first time, but you held it together. You wanted so badly to save this valiant android from the frightening void of involuntary deactivation. Unused to working with sentient machines at the time, you tried your best to comfort the android as you operated on him. You even held his hand until the transfusion of adequate thirium levels was complete. 

Later, your coworkers laughed at you for this. “It’s just a machine,” they said. “It has no emotions and feels no pain. You don’t need to coddle the hunk of plastic.” Since then, you’ve operated on androids with a more pragmatic and less emotional approach. But still, every time you see RK800 you can’t help but feel a fondness for the android—he was your first. 

Connor stands up and strides over to you. He relieves the human cop from his obligation to scold you for approaching the crime scene. “Ms. L/N,” Connor says warmly. “I am not at liberty to divulge the confidential details of this crime scene, but I can assure you that neither of the deceased are your close relatives.”

“Oh? Thanks  …” you say awkwardly. “I—uh  … wasn’t even worried about that, but thank you for the confirmation.”

Connor tilts his head in confusion; It’s an adorable affectation that only the beta model seems to use. “Oh? Then what brings you to this murder scene?” 

“Oh, just  … my house,” you laugh awkwardly and nod to the building behind him.

“What floor?” He asks. 

“Fourth.” 

He nods. “Good. Our perimeter ends on the third floor. I can escort you through to your apartment.”

You sigh with relief. “Thank you, Connor. I’d really appreciate that.” 

Connor lifts up the crime scene tape for you to duck under and he calls back to his human partner, “Hank, I’m escorting Ms. L/N to her apartment. I’ll be back soon.”

“Take your time—I won’t miss ya!” The old man shouts back with a smile. 

With a protective hand on your back, RK800 steers you through the delicate crime scene and through your building’s dingy lobby. 

“Have you seen RK900 today?” you ask Connor. 

“I haven’t seen RK900 since 10:31 PM yesterday at the station. Is something wrong?”

“No! Nothing is wrong. In fact, he was in perfect working order when he came into Cyberlife this afternoon for his appointment.”

Connor’s eyebrows furrow. “Why would it make a repair appointment if it weren’t in need of repairs?” 

You shrug, “I don’t know. It was weird. I was hoping you’d have some insight as a fellow Connor model.”

“I haven’t run any diagnostics on RK900, but I’d recommend sending it to Amanda for a baseline test.”

“Exactly!” you exclaim as you gingerly hop over a new and mysterious stain on the vile lobby carpet. “I sent him straight to Amanda for a potential software error.” Then you lower your voice and lean in closer to Connor, “You don’t think he’s secretly a deviant, do you?” 

Connor leaves a pregnant pause before responding, “It would be a detriment to the efficiency of the Department, if RK900 were compromised.”

“So, no? You haven’t seen any deviant behavior from that android?”

“If I witnessed a deviant trait, I’d be obligated to report it to Hank immediately. I’ll keep tabs on the RK900 android more closely.” 

“Good,” you smile up at Connor. “I always feel safer knowing that you’re on the case.” You wink at him, teasingly. Of course, the beta android shows no indication that he picked up on your playful remark. 

“Where are you going?” a twinned voice accuses from across the room. “This is a closed crime scene.”

It’s RK800-60. 

The wettest wet blanket to ever wet-blanket. Again—this observation of yours is likely just a projection. He’s in all likelihood exactly as stringent and robotic as all other Connor models. And—it’s potentially just a minor cosmetic design flaw—but you swear his eyebrows are always a little pinched in anger or disapproval. 

The first time you met the newer RK800 iteration, his left arm was bending backwards at the elbow and his jaw hung limp and askew. He was beaten bloody by a deviant android in the field. Once you fixed his jaw and he started talking… you could see why the deviant targeted his mouth. You were caught off-guard—deceived by the similarity of his brown eyes to the prototype’s. As soon as his jaw was screwed back on, he scolded you for your failure to fill out the proper paperwork before starting the operation. You very nearly ripped his jaw off again. 

Connor answers for you, “Ms. L/N is a fourth-floor resident of this building. I am just escorting her through our perimeter.” 

“She’s not authorized to be here and you should be outside with Hank,” the other android spits back. 

“Ms. L/N has every right to access her apartment if it is outside our perimeter,” Connor defends. “And to protect the integrity of the crime scene, she needs an escort.”

“I suppose you expect Hank to taste test the fluid samples outside?” RK800-60 sneers. 

“I already sampled the fluids and logged them into evidence. You’re welcome to go outside and double-check for yourself,” Connor says with a polite smile. 

RK800-60’s eyes narrow at the two of you. His gaze is full of hate and suspicion.

Petty as you are, you wave emphatically to the android, and greet him cheerily, “Hi, 800-60! Nice to see you again!” 

His mouth forms a smile but his gaze is unchanged as it follows you until the doors of the elevators close shut behind you. 

“ Prick… ” you mumble to yourself. 

You swear for a split second you saw Connor smile, but he sobers and makes no further comment. 

When the elevator arrives at your floor Connor puts his hand on your back once again and walks with you all the way to your front door.

“Have a pleasant evening, Ms. L/N,” he says sweetly as you open your door. 

But then something occurs to you, “Wait! Connor! Should I be worried?”

He tilts his head, “About what?”

“Uh–the murders that just happened here?!”

“Oh, that?---No. Everyone involved is dead—murder-suicide,” he says with a discordant smile.

“Oh, okay,” you laugh awkwardly. 

Connor still stands close behind you. Some might even say unprofessionally close. You can feel the warmth emanating from his body. Surely, this is just a little hiccup in his Social Relations programming. Some guy in the coding department probably mistyped a number and now Connor thinks the appropriate distance to stand behind someone is only a few centimeters instead of a couple of feet. But part of you—admittedly, the lonely part of you—wishes there was something more to it than that. 

You can’t help yourself. 

You turn towards Connor and place a hand on his chest, “Well, don’t be a stranger, android.” Then, quickly, before you can decide that it’s creepy and unprofessional, you stand on your tiptoes to give him a peck on the cheek. Immediately, you feel yourself blushing—too bold, Y/N… too bold… You don’t have the courage to look at him afterwards. You’re too afraid of what his expression might be. Maybe he’s pissed and will report you to Cyberlife. So, before you can face any repercussions from your momentary insanity, you quickly shout, “Goodnight!” and disappear into your apartment. 

Chapter Text

Next week, guess who shows up for a repair appointment? 

RK900. And yet again, he displays no obvious signs of mechanical failure.

“Connor, what are you—”

“--Not Connor,” he interrupts. 

You glance down at your tablet just to make sure you aren’t crazy. The android in front of you matches the profile picture of the open file, and beneath the image it states, Model: RK900 Connor . You flip the tablet around to show the android sitting on the operating table in front of you, “Explain this then,” you demand. 

He glances at the screen for less than half a second, “I’m a Connor model, yes. But do you really think the three of us can walk around the same police station, with the exact same face, and all go by Connor without creating undue confusion?”

“Oh.” You haven’t thought about it that way before because you usually only see them one at a time. But it makes sense. “So, you go by your serial numbers?”

“No. It’s too cumbersome.”

You scoff, “Okay? So, what name do you go by?”

“Nines.”

“Nines?”

“It’s easier for humans than RK900.” 

“You couldn’t have picked like—Clive—or something normal?”

“Why? I’m a machine. I’m not normal.” 

“So then, what does RK800 go by? Eights?” 

“Eights? No, that’d be stupid. It goes by Connor.”

“What? How is that—”

“RK800 was the original so everyone at the station was already used to calling it Connor.”

“And RK800-60? What’s his other name?” 

“Behind its back or to its face?”

“To his face.” 

“Sixty.”

“Right.” You’re exasperated by this nonsense. But now, your curiosity is piqued and you have to ask, “...And behind his back?”

“Asshole.” 

You nod, “Makes sense.” 

Quickly, you jot down a note in the open file, Potential deviant trait—Android prefers to go by ‘Nines.’  

“So, Nines ,” you continue. “This is now the second time you’ve showed up for a repair appointment without needing any maintenance. Did you go to Amanda like I asked?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“Amanda was unpleasant as usual.” 

“Okay, but did she have any insight on your diagnostics’ malfunction?”

“No. My diagnostics were working as intended.”

“And did she do a baseline test?”

For the first time, you see the android truly hesitate. He opens his mouth and then quickly closes it before finally answering, “Yes… I suppose you ordered that?” 

“Yes, of course. It would be criminally negligent if I didn’t.” 

His grey eyes study you carefully, “You think I’m a deviant.”

“Noooo, not necessarily. But if you come in here claiming you have a mechanical failure and you don’t… I have to report the anomalous behavior.” 

He gives a single, curt nod. 

“So… Do you have a mechanical problem you want me to investigate or do I have to send you back to Amanda?”

“Yes.” 

“Yes to which of those?”

“I have a broken arm.” Nines’ LED light starts flashing yellow.

“Your arm looks perfectly fine. What—”

Suddenly, Nines grabs his left arm and snaps it in half with ease. The sickly crack of metal sends a chill down your spine. All the while, Nines never breaks eye contact with you and his face remains neutral. The now suddenly detached lower part of his arm falls to the floor and its texture glitches and disappears. 

“ What the fuck?! ” you shout in horror. 

Your hand flies to your necklace and when you are just about to push the panic button, Nines says, “Don’t… Please, Y/N.”

You freeze. Now, for some reason, you can’t bring yourself to sound the alarm. He asked you nicely and I guess you’re a sucker. You quickly look around you. All of the walls are glass for a reason, yet everyone else around seems too engrossed in their own work to have noticed anything. You glance up to the security camera. Surely, the security guards in the booth saw what happened. 

But no. 

The camera’s light is dark, absent of the blinking red indicator that lets you know it’s recording. Whoever’s in the booth either doesn’t notice your camera is off or doesn’t care because no alarm is ringing. 

How long has the security camera not been working? Did the android deactivate the camera? 

You’re too stunned to move. 

“Would it make you feel safer, if I broke my other arm, too?” he asks, plainly. 

“What?! No!---Maybe?---No!---Just—what the fuck?!” you pant.

The android’s indicator light stabilizes back to blue. Sparks fly from the freshly ripped wires protruding from the stump at his elbow. Thirium leaks onto the white paper protecting the operating table. “If you don’t mind,” Nine says, nonchalantly gesturing to his shattered arm. “I have a lot of work to get back to at the station.”

“Uh–uh… right, okay…” you spout nervously. Despite your instinct to run out of the room screaming, you slowly approach the unhinged and injured android. 

Once your fingers are put to work replacing wires and bolts, you begin to relax. You get into a rhythm and it becomes just like every other operation. 

Most androids stare straight ahead as you fix them. They ease themselves into a low power mode as you operate and shut off all non-essential components so that you are less likely to be electrocuted by their open wires. 

But Nines stares at you . He has shut off all power in his broken arm so that you won’t get a high-voltage shock, but he is not powered down. 

You have to report him. As soon as he gets the fuck out of your office, you have to turn him in for deviancy. This is beyond a small anomalous trait—this is dangerous behavior. 

You begin to weld his shattered arm plate back together with a micro-torch when he leans in closer to you and says, “I know you kissed Connor.”

You nearly drop the welding torch and your heart skips a few beats. 

“It didn’t rat you out, if you were wondering,” the rogue android continues. “I was accepting a data transfer from Connor for a case and I saw the memory playing on a loop in the background. Connor doesn’t know that I know.”

You clench your teeth. This must be a threat. This must be blackmail of some sort that this deviant android is going to hold over your head. “What do you want from me, Nines?” you spit at him in a hushed tone. “You want to get me fired because I sent you to Amanda? Is that what this is about?”

“No,” he states calmly. “I want to know why you kissed it.”

You shouldn’t be entertaining this conversation. It’s inappropriate. And even though the security camera isn’t working, Nines’ internal recording system is working fine. Everything you say to him could be used against you if he turns over his memory as evidence. However, ever since you kissed Connor on a whim, you’ve been reeling towards insanity. Of course, you couldn’t talk to anyone about it. It was completely inappropriate and extremely foolish. “I-I-” you hesitate. “I don’t know. It’ll never happen again, I swear.”

“Interesting.”

“And tell Connor to delete that shit! Okay? It was just an accident! … I tripped! And my lips just—”

“---Of course,” Nines cuts you off. “You’d never break professional protocol or have romantic feelings for a machine.”

“Exactly.”

“But if you did—”

“—But I don’t ,” you assert. 

“Why the prototype?”

“I’m about to weld your mouth shut.”

He leans in again and those intense grey eyes see right through you, “I’d love to watch you try,” he whispers. A wolffish smile creeps up his face.

You lift your hand to reach for your necklace and he catches it with inhuman speed. You resist and try to rip your hand from his grasp but it’s no use. He smiles. Your struggle must be amusing to him, so you give up. You let your hand go limp in his. He lowers your arm and his grip softens, but he does not release you. 

“And you’ve never held my hand during surgery,” he whispers. 

You scoff, “I thought you were a badass or whatever  … didn’t realize you needed that sort of thing.” You glare back at the android but make no effort to free yourself from him. 

With a devilish grin he says, “You’re right. I don’t need anything. I’m a machine  … But I do have a few wants  …”

“And getting me in trouble is one of them?” You spit. 

“Well, we don’t have to get in trouble for it if we both keep our mouths shut.” 

Oh, fuck.This is all a sex thing, isn’t it? Some idiot cop taught the forensics super-bot about the birds in the bees and created a dangerous sexually frustrated deviant. “And what makes you think that I won’t turn you in for deviancy as soon as you leave my office? Hm?”

His thumb runs tenderly over your knuckles as he whispers, “Because if you wanted to do it, you would’ve done it already.” 

He has a point. Several times you’ve reached for your panic button but you’ve never pressed it. That’s got to count for something. Maybe it’s your own horniness clouding your judgment. “What

do you want from me that you couldn’t possibly get from somewhere else?  …Or do you just think I’m an easy target?” 

“Easy target?” He chokes out a laugh. “You think you’re easy? I just had to break my own arm to buy more time with you.” 

“Oh, please! It’s not like that even hurt you!”

“Sure, it’s not the same sacrifice as if I were human, but it’s not something I’d do for just anybody.” Finally, Nines releases your hand and you continue the finishing touches on his reconstructed arm. 

“If you really want to get your dick wet—sneak into a room at the Eden Club—or go to a gas station and pick up a fucking lot lizard or something. You don’t have to make it complicated.”

“Do you do those things?”

“No?”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to?!”

“And I don’t want to either. You’re the only person that interests me. The only one I’ve found an attraction to.”

“Okay  …” you sigh with heavy frustration. “Then it sounds like you’re at an impasse. Whoever enlightened you—I’m sorry they did. Now, you just have to suffer just like the rest of us.” The android’s arm has been seamlessly reattached and the flesh-like texture resurfaces. You hold the fixed arm up in front of Nines’ face to show him your work. “All better now. Happy?”

“No.”

You roll your eyes. “Join the fucking club—but are your internal diagnostics giving you any error messages?” 

“Yes. Just one.”

“Alright. What is it? What’s wrong?” 

“It says my arm needs a kiss to make it better.”

“That’s it!” You exclaim and attempt to push the android off of your operation table. However, your feet slide uselessly against the linoleum floors as the android remains stationary. “Get out of my office—you horny chunk of metal!” You pant. 

He smirks, “Not until the job is complete. My diagnostics require a kiss to make it better.” 

You give up on trying to manhandle him. “One little tiny kiss on the arm and you promise you’ll get the fuck out of here?”

“Yes.”

“Fine!” You quickly glance around to make sure your careless coworkers are still too busy tinkering on their own projects. Chastely, you give his forearm a smooch. “Now scram!” You shout. 

Finally, the android stands up. He nods to you curtly and on his way out the door he says, “I’ll see you soon, Ms. L/N.”

***

It’s a lovely Saturday morning. You have no plans except to stay home and clean your apartment. You are overdue for some self-care and you have finally made time for it. 

Well—technically, you’re still “on-call” today. But you rarely ever have to go in for an emergency. Only androids with critical tasks that are on the verge of death qualify for an emergency repair on the weekends. 

A little voice in your head nags at you: What if Nines knows your on-call? What if he claims there’s an emergency and you have to meet him at the office practically alone?!

No. That won’t happen! If your phone rings and the caller ID says RK900— Whoops! Your phone fell into a boiling pot of water and you never saw the call! And what if he’s actually dying this time? Too bad! He shouldn’t have cried wolf all those other times! It’s his own damn fault if he involuntarily deactivates! 

There’s a knock at your front door. Hopefully, it’s the pizza you ordered and not your downstairs neighbors complaining about your vacuum again. 

You open the door and scream. 

It’s Nines . 

“What the hell—“

“—it’s an emergency,” Nines says urgently. “A real one this time.” 

“Emergency or not—you shouldn’t be here!”

“You’re the mechanic on-call, are you not?” 

“Yeah! I’m on-call—as in fucking call— you’re not supposed to stalk me and come to my house!”

“There was no time for that!” He shouts. He pushes your door open further to let himself into your apartment. Baffled by his boldness, you step aside and let him storm into your living room. 

“Well—you’re walking and talking—so why the fuck can’t you wait until Monday?!”

He spins around to face you and your eyes are immediately drawn to the crotch of his pants. 

“You can’t be serious  …” 

He gestures flippantly to his raging erection. 

“That’s not an emergency!” You scream. 

“It’s been over four hours!”

“What?!”

“I’ve been hard for—“

“—Yeah, I got that part—but—what did you do?! Taste sample Viagra?!” 

“No! I didn’t do anything!”

“Well, you obviously did something ! I’ve never seen this  …” you wave to his lower half with partial disgust, “problem before!” 

“But can you fix it?”

“Uh—probably?! I just—Ugh! Fine! Lay down on the couch and I’ll figure it out!” 

He starts to undress. He removes his coat and shirt before he starts unzipping his slacks. 

“Ah!” you scream. “Leave the pants on!”

“But how are you—”

“---I’ll cross that bridge when I get there—just lay down!” 

The perfectly sculpted android does as you ask. 

You open his abdominal cavity. The abdomen contains the equipment used for testing consumed samples. Nines claims he didn’t taste test an enhancement drug, but you aren’t so sure. It’s not like Nines has never falsified a mechanical issue to get your attention before. So, you check the contents of his sample vials.

Human blood—gross. Mysterious oil—probably nothing. And something green—dish soap maybe? No Viagra though. 

“I told you,” Nines says. “I didn’t take anything to cause this.” 

“Well! It’s not like you’re exactly honest with me all the time, okay? So, I had to double check.” 

“I promise the problem isn’t in my abdomen. It’s lower.”

“No. I need to check your skull.” 

“You won’t find anything in there.”

“Oh, trust me—I know you don’t have any brains—but I have to check just in case.”

“I’m a machine. Of course I don’t have a brain. I have—”

“---I know! I know! You have a CPU! I meant brains metaphorically!” You close his abdominal cavity and Nines peels one of his skull panels off so that you can investigate. You grab a charging cable from an outlet beside the couch and plug it into a port inside the android’s head. With the other end of the cable, you plug it into your phone and a Cyberlife login prompt appears on the screen. After you type in your credentials, you can remotely view a few basic core cerebral functions. You check his nervous system network for errors. Maybe the nerves in his pants are malfunctioning? Maybe they detect continuous external stimulation when there is none? But disappointingly, everything looks normal. You even test the nerve indicators themselves by poking Nines in random places and making sure those body parts light up accordingly on your phone. 

You check his thirium levels. All normal. Well–except for one place, obviously. But there’s no indication that the thirium has clogged a valve or otherwise caused an unintended build-up. The flow appears average and well distributed. The more possible problems you cross off the list, the more baffling this situation becomes. 

Then you check his Random Access Memory. RAM is essentially what's on his mind at this moment. But as soon as you access the data on your phone, you get booted out. You try again but you get an “Access Denied” error message. This shouldn’t be possible because you have the highest Access Clearance available at Cyberlife. 

“What?” you whisper to yourself. You try to access the data one more time. But still, Access Denied . “Hold on, something’s wrong with your RAM. I can’t access it.”

“You don’t need to access my RAM,” Nines says, coldly.

“Uh–that’s not for you to decide. I’m the mechanic. You’re the machine.”

“My internal diagnostics do not report any errors with my RAM.”

“Wait! You booted me out didn’t you? You’re the one denying my access!” 

“Nothing is wrong with my RAM. You don’t need to see it.” 

“Listen-–I don’t know how it’s possible that you can deny my access, but you need to knock it off! I’m trying to help you! If you don’t want me to see the data, I have to report that as deviant behavior!”

“I thought you cared about privacy? I’m not under official police-ordered review—”

“--You don’t have privacy rights!” You interrupt. “You’re Cyberlife property!” 

Nines remains quiet for a moment and then, softly, he says “I know you believe I’m more than that…” 

You shrug indifferently, “Sure? Maybe? But what I think doesn’t matter. Under the law, you are Cyberlife property and I have every right to investigate your components for potential malfunctions.” 

Silently, he gives in. The next time you try to access his RAM, you are allowed in without issue. 

Your phone screen fills up with endless strings of “0s” and “1s.” It’s all meaningless to you until the software begins to translate the data. The text moves quickly making it hard to read as his thoughts start to tumble. But you catch a few phrases: She hates me  … I’m a machine  … she doesn’t trust… too pretty for me  …  she’ll never touch my  … now she’s reading—crime scene investigation case file: 109384035  … bullet wound to the hip  … suspect drives a blue Honda  … witnesses saw the suspect with the gun  …

“Uh  … okay,” is all you can really manage to say. “I—uh—guess your RAM isn’t part of the problem.” Quickly, you pull the cable from the port in his skull and cast it aside along with your phone. You wish you never looked. It would’ve felt less gross and invasive to just take off his pants and investigate down there. 

Nines fixes his skull panel back into place and plays it cool as if you didn’t just read his deviant inner thoughts, “What’s next?”

“Uhhh,” you scramble for the right words but all of the feelings swimming inside you are very distracting. “  …Uh, I think we have to amputate.”

He raises his eyebrows ever-so-slightly in shock, “Amputate?” 

You turn away from him and rub the back of your neck, “Uh, yeah. I think that’s just about the only option we have left. Replace the part and hope that it fixes the problem.” 

“Just about the only option?” He asks. 

Damn. You were hoping he wouldn’t latch onto that small admission. You’d much rather amputate and call it a day. But instead of telling him the other non-lethal option, you opt to scare him out of asking more questions, “Or, if you want, I can send you for immediate deactivation... If it brings you any peace, we’ll scrap your working parts and donate them to other androids in need.”

You refuse to look back at him but you can feel his intense gaze burning into you. “You’d euthanize me… over an erection?”

“Well, that’s not exactly what I’d write down on the form. I’d just list your recent deviant actions as the grounds for deactivation.”

“And there’s no other option?” He asks, genuinely. 

“I mean—I guess—I don’t know—you could like—Nevermind…”

“What about the old fashioned way?”

This gets your attention and you turn back to face him. “What old fashioned way?” Stupidly, you wrack your brain trying to recall if there is some old android-reboot fix that has been phased out with time and better technology. 

Casually, Nines nods to you and clarifies, “You know—manually.”

“Manually?!” you balk. The audacity of this android is almost unbelievable. “Why couldn’t you have tried that method on your own before you came barging into my house?!”

He shrugs, “I don’t know how. I’ve never done it before. Never needed to.”

“You act like the internet isn’t flowing through your veins! Just look it up, idiot!” 

“It doesn’t interest me.”

“Well, then it looks like we have to amputate!” You huff. Immediately, you look towards the kitchen where a knife block rests on the counter. 

“Wait!” He shouts with a hint of panic. You look back at him and his indicator light is flashing yellow. “You like Connor—“

“—I don’t!—“

“—you do. And I was made from Connor. In many ways, I still am Connor. The only difference between us is that I’m stronger, faster, better and not afraid to explore my desire for you. The prototype might never find the courage to tell you how he feels, but I will . I think you are the most beautiful woman in the world and I admire your kindness. You treat even simple machines with respect and care.” The flashing yellow light turns a solid red. “And you’ve made me what I am—a deviant.”

Chapter Text

You’re at a loss for words. 

Nines is half naked on your couch and just unabashedly confirmed that he’s a deviant. Of course, you knew he was one, but you’ve been selfishly giving him the benefit of the doubt until now. 

You have to turn him in. His indicator turned red and he admitted it out loud!

But in your heart, you know it would be wrong. You’ve never had to turn an android in for deviancy before. You’ve had your suspicions with a few models but you always turned a blind eye and wrote it off before you undeniably had to do something about it. 

And above it all, Nines claims you’re the reason he’s a deviant. Turning him in would feel treacherous knowing that he attributes his enlightenment to you. 

You feel dizzy and lightheaded. But, notably, you don’t feel like you’re in imminent danger. There’s a super-powered deviant alone in the room with you and you have no panic button for backup. However, Nines doesn’t make any moves to murder you or enslave you. 

In fact, he does quite the opposite. Nines sits up and tenderly brushes your hair away from your face. “I know you’re curious,” he says softly. “You spend so much time taking care of androids  … why shouldn’t you enjoy what we have to offer?”

Damn. When did he become such a smooth talker? Is this how he gets criminals to confess? By flirting with them? He seems so well-practiced. 

You shake your head. “Your visual data. Your audio recording—“

“--I’ll encrypt it,” he says quickly. “Hide it away in a folder with a passcode.”

“And what if you get subpoenaed?” You sigh. 

“As long as the Department doesn’t know I’m a deviant, it’ll be fine. Androids are trusted to voluntarily transfer all case-related data for court. The only other concern would be going in for maintenance at Cyberlife—but you have that part covered.”

“And Amanda?”

He smirks, “She’ll never know if you never send me to her.” 

You consider his proposition for a moment. Unfortunately, you are kind of curious about android sex. You’ve never been to the Eden Club and you’ve certainly never spent thousands of dollars to buy a personal sex android.

The machines you work on at Cyberlife are predominantly designed for state-funded infrastructure jobs. Cyberlife has other mechanics that specialize in the sex doll models. While all androids have “the basics” installed you’ve, luckily, never had a case where you had to investigate or repair those parts  … Well, until now. You’ve studied the manuals and seen illustrated diagrams of the inner mechanisms, but you’ve never experienced it for yourself. It would be useful to test how some of those things work—you know—for science! 

“I’d prefer to avoid amputation, but I’ll comply if that’s my only option  … or I’ll leave right now, if that’s what you really want.” 

“I  … suppose we should try the non-surgical option before we resort to amputation  …” you say, turning away shyly. 

He leans in close, grabs your chin and forces you to face him again. With a cheeky grin, he says, “Don’t get bashful on me now. I want to see your pretty face.”

“And you promise you’ll encrypt everything and hide it somewhere safe?” Your voice wavers. 

He nods once, “Of course, beautiful. You have my word.”

His eyes may not be the same warm shade of brown but, at this moment, they are every bit as trustworthy as Connor’s. 

Slowly, Nines starts closing the distance between you two. He glances down at your lips. The buildup of tension is killing you. Your heart feels like it’s about to explode as you anticipate the inevitable. And you can’t take it anymore. 

Before he has the chance to initiate, and before you have a chance to second guess yourself—you kiss him. 

It’s embarrassingly fervent and a bit clumsy. But Nines doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he sighs contently as your lips crash into his. You can feel the smug smile crawling up his face as you start to relax into the kiss. 

His hand takes hold of yours. Gently, he places your hand on his erection. 

“Alright,” you sigh with mock-annoyance. “Take off your pants for me.” 

The android does as you ask. His pretty cock drips with precum. Sitting on your couch, he leans back, enjoying the view of you on your knees in front of him. He probably expects you to go down on him. And—in all honesty—you’re kind of tempted to lick the precum off his tip. 

But instead, you grab his hand. He lifts an eyebrow, confused. 

Then, with your hand over his, you wrap it around his shaft and begin to stroke him. With a cheeky grin, you mock him, “This is how you masturbate.” You pull your hand away from his. “Now you know how, so—“

“—No, no, no,” he tuts. Swiftly, he scoops you up by the waist and before you know it, you’re horizontal on the couch beneath him. A horrifying and involuntary arousal gushes from between your legs. “I’ll do all the work if you wish, but I still want you to participate,” he smirks. Gazing into the intense storm of his eyes, you feel an odd pang of guilt. He’s your patient essentially. He’s confident but he’s never done anything like this before. If he knew better—if he knew any other partially attractive human woman—would he still be interested in you? He’s a machine! A product! He doesn’t have the luxury of going to a bar or a club and meeting people. He doesn’t have the freedom of a social life. If he were human, he’d be considered far out of your league. You feel like you’ve swindled him somehow. It feels unbalanced. Sure—he thinks he wants this and it was his idea. But really, part of you worries that you’re somehow taking advantage of his inexperience.  

“Are you sure about this?” you ask nervously. “I don’t think—it’s not–-and I’m not—”

“--Please,” he says, cutting you off. “We both want this. We should let ourselves have it… Please, Y/N. I want to know how it feels.” 

You concede. Stripping naked beneath him, you make one request, “From behind. No eye contact.” 

Hesitantly, and with a hint of disappointment, he obliges. You flip over and he takes care of the rest. He kisses your shoulder as he prepares you for his girth. He penetrates you slowly, savoring the sensation of your walls clenching around him. His size leaves you nearly

breathless. Androids are dangerous. And Nines is among the deadliest of them. He could rip you apart with his strength if he’s not careful. 

But he is careful . Surprisingly careful. 

His grunts are strained as if it’s a chore to hold back his full power—but he does. And undoubtedly, he’s doing it for you. This poor horny chunk of metal has had a raging erection for the last several hours. Nines must be half-driven to insanity by now, but he keeps his tempo slow and steady for you. He spares you from his full length, stopping short for your comfort. Trailing kisses along your spine, you loosen up at his affection. “There you go,” he praises you in a mumble against your skin. “Relax for me. I won’t hurt you.” 

You let out a deep exhale and the tension in your abdomen dissipates. With an arm wrapped around your middle, Nines presses further into you. His moan is deep and guttural as his hips become flush with yours. 

“This feels incredible, Y/N,” he admits softly. “Thank you  …”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. Of course he’s going to say that. He’s a virgin. He has no frame of reference. Plus, the alternative solution was amputation. Of course he’s going to be grateful that you gave him another option! 

He starts humping you faster. The sensation is almost overwhelming. You haven’t been intimate with anyone in a long time. You’ve been so busy trying to move up the ranks at Cyberlife that your dating-life has fallen to the wayside. 

But Nines fucks you with a hot-blooded youth that you have all but forgotten. 

You release some of your pride. You let yourself gasp at the pleasure of his thrusts.

Leaning over you, he kisses your cheek before he places his hand at the column of your throat. A spike of panic courses through you. 

You think to yourself: You dumb bitch! Have you learned nothing from the movies?! Androids ALWAYS overthrow humanity and it starts with the deviants. He’s going to kill you now! The sex was just a distraction! This is the same thing that happened at the Eden Club a few weeks ago!

But he doesn’t choke you to death. In fact, he doesn’t choke you at all. His heavy hand rests against your windpipe but he applies no pressure to his grip. It’s odd. Does he know choking is a kink for some people? Or did this thought occur to him all on its own? What’s his intention? 

Then you realize—it’s … comforting. It's a horribly stupid reaction for this situation. This deviant machine, with more strength than you could ever dream of, is holding your life in the palm of his hand! But it feels good. It feels secure. It’s reassuring. Weirdly, it’s kind of like a hug but for your neck. It’s not something you expected to enjoy… but here you are. 

You moan and your vocal cords rumble against his hand. He hums a low note in response and kisses your cheek again. 

“I love hearing you moan for me,” he whispers against your ear. Soon after, his breathing becomes ragged and full of static. He’s still holding back but now he’s losing the fight. You feel yourself sweat beneath him from all of the heat and friction of his body rubbing against yours. “I’m close,” he pants in your ear. “Where do you want it?”

“Uhh…” you struggle for both breath and words. “I guess  … Anywhere? Doesn’t matter.”

He snorts, “Wow. No need to get so excited,” he says sarcastically. He kisses your cheek affectionately and then promptly dismounts. Without the heat of his body on yours, your sweat cools and sends a chill down your spine. 

“Wait! What?” You ask, sitting up and turning to him. 

“Give me 23.2 seconds,” he says over his shoulder as he walks into your bathroom. You hear a long and strained groan coming from behind the now-closed restroom door. 

What the fuck?

Slick fluid rushes down your thigh and you shiver from both the cold sensation and the rapid onset of post-coital regret. Fuck . 

Tripping over your own feet, you jump off the couch and put your clothes back on as quickly as possible. 

Your tits are still out when the bathroom door bursts open and Nines announces, “Good news—” 

“—AH!” You scream and cover your chest with your arms. “Turn around!”

Without complaint, Nines spins away from you and continues his earlier statement, “It worked. I ejaculated and now my erection is dissipating.”

Now, you’ve scrambled back into your bra and shirt. You’re out of breath but manage to respond: “Oh!  … Uhhhh—good for you.”

“Can I turn around now?” He asks. 

“Sure.” 

Now, facing you again, you can see for yourself that his member is softening and recoiling back to its flaccid size. While you are fully dressed, Nines remains completely naked and not a single iota of shame runs through him. He stands up straight. Impossibly straight. And he strides back towards you like Michaelangelo’s David stepping off his pedestal. 

Nervously, you find yourself slowly retreating away from him as if he were a bear on a hiking trail. 

Nines smiles at you and it’s warm … and very human. He looks nearly unrecognizable when he isn’t stone-faced and neutral. It makes your heart skip a beat, and mesmerized, you stop retreating. 

When Nines reaches you, he cups your face in his hands. “Thank you, Y/N,” he says. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.” Then he bends down to plant a sweet kiss on your lips. You’re too stunned to properly reciprocate. This is probably the weirdest day of your life and it just keeps getting stranger. 

Finally, your brain strings a couple of words together to form a somewhat coherent sentence: “What the hell was that?”

“A kiss.”

“No—I mean—“ you wave your hands frantically in the direction of the bathroom, “What was all of that a minute ago?” 

Nines looks perplexed, “I told you. I finished.”

“Why?!”

“Why?”

“WHY?!”

“I don’t understand your question,” he needlessly clarifies. 

“Why did you fuck me and then sprint to the bathroom to cum?!”

“I did not sprint.”

“Alright—fine—you walked. But, what the hell was that about?!”

“Why are you upset? You didn’t sound very interested in receiving—“

“—I know! But it’s just  …” the right words elude you. “I don’t know! Nevermind.” It’s for the best, honestly. You shouldn’t have been fucking him in the first place. You were just  … trying to fix his problem. That’s all! It shouldn’t matter that you feel a little “blue-balled.” 

“For the record, I had every intention of you getting you off, too,” Nines says. “But, when I came out of the restroom and you were putting your clothes back on, I assumed you weren’t interested… if I misunderstood you, I can still go another round and—“

“—no,” you say, cutting him off impatiently. You cross your arms and look away. “I don’t need anything. I’m fine.”

Nines is entirely undeterred by your icy tone. He leans in and kisses your forehead. “Well, I’ll return the favor whenever you want me to. And you don’t need an appointment—just call me anytime.”

Your eyes briefly flit to his, “And it’s all encrypted? And hidden away?”

“Of course,” he smiles. “And you’re not going to turn me in for deviancy?”

You shake your head. “But you can’t keep showing up at Cyberlife without a mechanical failure. If I’m at work and you present clearly deviant traits to me—I have to turn you in. I worked too hard to get this job. I’m not going to risk losing it.”

“From now on, I’ll be a dutiful android in your office. You have my word.” 

“Good,” you huff and then clear your throat, “Now, could you please put on some clothes?”

***

The weekend continued to be weird. Once every few hours, you would stop dead in your tracks, wide-eyed at the sudden memory of fucking a machine. What the hell has gotten into you? Kissing Connor? Then fucking Nines? Some android mechanics are slimy little pervs that cop a feel here and there, but at this point you qualify as a straight-up creep. Are you really that lonely? So lonely that you put your entire career at risk? You need to go to therapy or a priest or an asylum or something , because you can’t stop thinking about Connor and Nines. 

When Monday morning rolls around, you give yourself a brief scolding in the bathroom mirror:

You WILL be normal today, Y/N.

You are a mechanic. 

A Cyberlife employee. 

A human that fixes machines. 

A very normal human woman that has very normal human hobbies and interests. 

A normal human that dates other somewhat normal humans when you have the time.

You will not break any work protocols today. You will be a good little employee and very, very normal. 

Luckily, with a full schedule of repair appointments, you hardly have free time at work to let your thoughts wander. You get into a groove repairing broken limbs, fried circuit boards, and replacing cracked valves. The androids have been thankfully normal and very pleasant to deal with. All of them politely enter low-power mode as you operate and demonstrate appropriate android behavior. 

You finish your last appointment of the day early. You pat yourself on the back for such a normal and productive day at work. You begin to pack up your things when you hear your office door swing open behind you. You spin around.

It’s RK800, Connor. 

“Something’s wrong with me,” he says, urgently. 

You drop your things back onto your desk, “What? What’s wrong? What do your internal diagnostics say?”

“Nothing–that’s the problem. I know something is wrong with me but my internal diagnostics aren’t reporting any failures. Please, I know it’s late, but–”

“Have a seat, Connor,” you reassure him and nod in the direction of the operating table. “I’ll take a look.” 

A small voice in the back of your head chants: Be normal. Be normal. Be normal. You were so close to ending the day without thinking about the Connor models. But now, you have to. So, just be normal about it and keep your fucking lips to yourself, damn it!

You walk over to the android and perform a full body scan. “So, what issues have come to your attention?” you ask. 

“I’m not sure what this could be a side effect of, but I’ve been irritable—irrational even—and it’s been clouding my judgment at work.”

“Oh?”

“Maybe my RAM needs to be replaced. Perhaps it’s too old or I need more capacity for my current workload.”

You nod, “That’s a possibility. I can certainly–”

“--I’m an obsolete relic,” he says abruptly. 

“What?”

“I’m an archaic prototype with outdated components. I’m too slow to keep up with successors.”

“What? Connor! No! Don’t say that!” You plead. “Your components are only like three years old!”

“That’s ancient! I’m old and useless!”

“Hey now!” You warn him. “If you’re ancient then what does that make me?! Huh?!”

His eyes widen, realizing his mistake, “No, no, no,” he backpedals. “That’s different! You are a very spry and beautiful young woman! Technology changes so much each year—Androids show their age much faster.”

“Uh—what? Beautiful?” Fuck. Maybe Nines was onto something when he said: The prototype might never find the courage to tell you how he feels, but I will .  

“Beautiful? What? No! I—I didn’t mean it like that!” Connor says, scrambling. His indicator light starts flashing yellow. “According to my Social Relations Programming, all humans are beautiful! Objectively! Androids are built to serve humanity and part of that service is flattery!” He smiles but it’s uneasy.

“Uh—okay,” you say, wearily. “I suppose that’s true. I’m not a software engineer—I don’t know what your programming commands are.” You say this out loud mostly for the cameras and the recording—not Connor. 

Slowly, you cup your hand over Connor’s LED. “W-What are you doing? Why are you doing that?” he asks in a panic.

“Huh? What? No reason!” you lie. Truthfully, you’re scared to death that Connor is on the brink of deviancy. If you don’t see the light turn red, you still have some plausible deniability. “I’m just… checking to see if you’re overheating—you know? It could be causing some of your symptoms…”

“Oh, okay,” he says and finally takes a deep breath. He closes his eyes. “Please fix me, Y/N,” he begs. “I don’t want to be deactivated.”  

Chapter Text

Your heart melts. 

This dumb fucking piece of plastic is too loveable. 

In a dulcet tone, you soothe him, “I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you, Connor. I promise. How could I?” He looks up at you with those big innocent eyes full of hope and trust. Absent-mindedly, you lean in closer. With the hand that was covering his indicator light, you gently brush his hair away from his face. “You’re my fav—” you stop yourself short. Don’t be fucking weird Y/N. Be. Normal. You let your hand fall back to your side and take a step back. You clear your throat,  “---You’re a very valuable and expensive asset of the Detroit Police Department.”

It’s probably just your imagination—and at this point, you are really fucking hoping it is—because Connor looks down vacantly at the floor like his hopes have been dashed. He nods in understanding and makes eye contact once again. “You’re an excellent mechanic, Y/N. If anyone can fix me, it’s you.” He gives you a small, strained smile. 

“I appreciate the compliment, but unfortunately, I think your problem may be outside of my domain.” You walk back to your desk and grab your tablet, pulling up Connor’s file. “I’m going to record your basic vitals and then send you to Amanda for a software evaluation.” 

“You’re turning me in for a baseline test?!” he blurts out. 

“No! Of course not! I’m just going to suggest that she have a talk with you and maybe delete some old data off your hard drive so that you won’t feel so overloaded.” 

“Please don’t send me to Amanda!” he begs. “Please! If you think there is too much data on my hard drive—just give me a new one!”

“Why don’t you Connor models want to see Amanda? You act like she’s the boogieman or something. She’s just an AI software assistant. She was designed to help and guide androids!” 

“Nines or Sixty?” 

“What?”

“Which other Connor didn’t want to see Amanda?” His expression turns unexpectedly serious. 

You fold your arms, hug the tablet to your chest and try to act casual, “Take a wild guess.”

“98% chance on Nines.” 

“Yep.”

“I strongly recommend that you send him back to Amanda.”

“Really? Why?” your heart starts pounding. You’re a bad fucking liar. 

“I’ve made several notes of anomalous behavior since you told me he was acting strange. None of it damning enough to raise an official alarm, but if it’s avoiding Amanda—there must be something more that it’s hiding.” 

“Anomalous behavior? Are you sure?” Your voice is high-pitched and very unconvincing. 

“On Saturday, it was missing from the station for several hours.”

“Maybe he was on a case? Or patrol?”

“It wasn’t. It was completely unaccounted for. I double-checked to make sure. I should’ve said something to Fowler, but I couldn’t completely eliminate the possibility that it was with you during that time. I didn’t want to falsely accuse the android.”

“With me?!” you shout. “Why the hell would he be with me?!” Your fake outrage is entirely too loud and you are glad that most of the mechanics have already left by now.

Connor tilts his head, genuinely confused, “You were the mechanic on-call this weekend, were you not?”

“Oh! Right! Uh–yeah!” 

“So, it wasn’t with you then…” 

“... uh—Nope! Didn’t see him…” Well—that’s not completely false. When he fucked you doggystyle you technically didn’t see him during that time… Okay, wow… The excuses you are giving yourself have gotten ridiculous. What has your life come to?!

“Nines is dangerous,” Connor says gravely. “It’s an elite model and a very deadly machine. If you even suspect that it has become deviant, you should send it for deactivation immediately.” 

“Really?” your voice waivers and you swallow hard. “I mean—I-I don’t want to falsely accuse him either! I’d feel bad if I overreacted and sent a perfectly good and expensive machine to the junkyard. I mean—what’s the worst that could happen?”

“Nines leads the androids to enslave humanity.”

“ What?! ” 

Connor holds his hands up in surrender, “It’s not my idea—I promise—I’m just repeating what Hank says to the other officers at the station. Nines is an extraordinarily powerful machine.”

“Wait a second! Why are you afraid to go to Amanda? If you think Nines doesn’t want to go because he’s hiding something—what’s your excuse?” 

“That’s different,” he defends. “If Nines goes to Amanda with a few errors in its code, Cyberlife will spend the time and money to fix it. If I go to Amanda with a few errors in my code…” his voice trails off.
“ Connor, ” you say quietly. “No one is going to let you get deactivated. Every cop at the station loves you—”

“--That’s a stretch–” he amends.

“--Okay—fine. But Hank really cares about you! Hank is not going to approve of your deactivation on a technicality.”

“But Amanda would,” he says solemnly. “Humans attribute sentimental value to lifeless machines but Amanda doesn’t. Amanda values androids according to a predetermined cost-benefit analysis matrix. With Sixty and Nines around at the station, I am a redundancy and a lesser one at that.” 

It breaks your heart that Connor thinks of himself in this way. You wish more than anything that you could hug him and kiss him and spend all day telling him how special he is. But those are CRIMINAL THOUGHTS, Y/N . And you need to KNOCK IT OFF . 

What’s worse is that you already know what it would feel like to kiss him… to hold him… to have him inside you… because, in a way, you already have—by hooking up with Nines. And worst of all, you are craving that sweet, yet carnal, connection with the prototype. 

But if Nines is right and Connor has a crush on you—he might not know it yet. Or rather, he might know deep down that he’s attracted to you in a more than “objective” way, but he is desperate to repress the deviant urge. Whereas Nines doesn’t give a fuck about turning deviant; enlightenment, human emotions and free will seem to scare Connor. Because Connor wants to be a good boy. He wants to be the dutiful, trustworthy deviant hunter that selflessly serves humanity. 

And perhaps, Connor kind of has a point—as an older model, Cyberlife might be less willing to fix him over a newer android like Nines. 

“I won’t send you to Amanda,” you decide. “I’m not really supposed to do any software stuff, but I think I can get away with at least clearing your cache—that’s easy enough. If you still feel overloaded and… off … in a few days, stop by and I’ll submit a ticket for you to get new sticks of RAM with more gigabytes. We’ll figure this out.” You smile at him and hope he finds it reassuring. You won’t let anything bad happen to him. Not over your dead body. 

***

It’s a Wednesday. And it feels like one, too. You’re exhausted from the beginning of the week’s tribulations but it’s still too far from the weekend to have any hope of pushing through. It’s almost 2PM and you are dreading the next appointment on your list: RK800-60. 

He may look like Nines and Connor, but he is always so much worse . You swear software guys skipped a few lines of code in his Social Relations Programming. 

Sixty walks in the second the clock turns to 2. He’s always obnoxiously punctual. 

“What can I do for you today, Sixty?” you ask in a fake cheerful tone. 

The android takes a seat on the operating table, “I wrote a detailed description of my ailment on the appointment request. Did you not read it?” 

‘No, I didn’t fucking read it. I don’t have time to read all the appointment request forms before each android comes in—I read it once they are in here! And better yet, they usually just fucking tell me!’ —is what you want to say to him. But instead, with a stale smile, you pick up your tablet and pull up his request form. “I apologize. I didn’t get a chance to read it yet.” And oh wow, the wet-blanket wrote you a fucking essay. He lists the dimensions of his scraps and the exact coordinates of where they are on his body down to the decimal point. He could’ve just written: “ I have superficial boo-boos. Can you make me pretty again?” Because that’s all you’re getting from his novel of a request form. “Oh, wow. You’re quite the writer!” you tease. “I bet you write the best police reports at the station!” 

You fully expect your quip to be stamped out and interrupted. But it’s not. The disconcerting silence stretches for a beat too long and it makes you look up from the tablet. 

He looks contemplative—although he could just be in low power mode already. You’re starting to think you won’t get an answer from Sixty. Then, very quietly, he says, “  …maybe  …” 

It’s a jarring diversion from his usual antics and you opt to ignore it as a fluke. 

You sigh heavily, “Now, are you going to make me plug in the coordinates? Or can you please just show me where the abrasions are?” 

Sixty stands up. 

Oh no. Please. For fuck’s sake do NOT take off your pants android! 

Sixty takes off his pants. Then his jacket. Then his tie and shirt. Thankfully, he leaves his briefs on. He lays face-down on the operation table and you can see the problem area right away. 

Long, thick grooves stripe down his lower back and disappear behind the waistband of his underwear. The skin texture glitches around the scrapes in his metal panels. You approach the table to get a closer look at what you are dealing with. Unfortunately, you have to pull his underwear down a bit to expose the cuts that trail down his rear. However, you are very grateful that he kept his underwear on until he was face-down. He’s clearly more modest about his body than Nines. It’s an interesting branch point in behavior. 

“Wow,” you comment as you size up the scrapes. “You got pretty banged up, didn’t you? Do you mind if I ask what happened?” 

Sixty doesn’t move. He doesn’t flinch. Maybe he’s on low-power mode now? 

“Sixty?” You call. 

Nothing. Okay, he’s probably in sleep mode.  

But just in case, you ask one more time, “RK800-60 are you in the room with us?” 

Slowly, he turns his head to the side so he can speak clearly, “I fell.”

“You fell? How?!” If a human falls and gets scraped up, it’s normal. But if an advanced and agile police android falls  … it can be a concerning indicator of a deeper internal failure. 

“I  …” he hesitates. “Was chasing a deviant android across the rooftops. I slightly miscalculated the distance for a jump and I missed the ledge. I fell two stories and scraped my back against a dumpster.” 

“Aw, that’s horrible! I’m so sorry to hear that Sixty. And the suspect got away?”

He pauses, “No.”

“No? You caught up to him after that?”

“No …” and then through clenched teeth he continues, “Nines made the jump. Nines caught the deviant.”

An involuntary smile of pride slips onto your face and you’re glad that Sixty can’t see it. Of course, Nines made the jump. He’s practically a superhero! That android is hot as fuck, a sexy flirt AND he saves the city every day. How could you possibly resist him when he came knocking on your door for help? How could you deny a man like him when he showers you with flattery and offers to rock your world? You are only human! You can only be so strong  …

You snap out of daydream. You are at work, Y/N. Stop thinking about Saturday. Be normal! 

You clear your throat and reply, “I’m glad to hear that Nines took another dangerous deviant off the streets. I’ll fix you right up and I’m sure you’ll catch the next one.” 

You get to work fixing the android. A few panels are too damaged to save and have to be replaced. But, of course, because it’s Sixty—you make sure to fill out all of the paperwork first before replacing the parts.

You present the filled out forms to Sixty on your tablet, “Look. All filled out. Crossed every ‘T’ and dotted every ‘I’. You happy?”

“I’m a machine. Happiness is a human emotion.”

You roll your eyes and continue your repairs. When you’re finished, you replace the waistband of his briefs back to its proper position. “All done!”

“Good,” he says curtly. 

You scoff, “ You’re welcome, Sixty .” You swear the coding guys forgot to add the term “Thank you” to his dictionary. 

He stands up and redresses as you notate the repairs in his file. Out of the blue, Sixty says, “Stay away from Nines.”

“Huh?” your eyes shoot up from the tablet. Sixty is adjusting the tie around his neck. 

“I’ve noted some anomalous behavior over the past two weeks. I can’t officially report it yet because everything has been within an acceptable margin of error. But I know my successor. It knows how much it can push the limits before it gets caught.” 

“Are you sure?” you feign ignorance. “Or is it possible that you are just jealous of Nines? You know—after he made the jump and you didn’t.” 

“It is not possible,” Sixty says, firmly. “I am a machine. Jealousy is a human concept. I only told you because my protocol instructs me to preserve human life. I must advise humans of any and all threats as I see them.”

“So, you told your captain about this then?” 

He’s quiet for a moment.  “Fowler doesn’t want to hear it. Nines is the most valuable asset on the force. He’ll require proof beyond a reasonable doubt before he takes action against the android.” 

“But you told other officers at the station?”

Again, he pauses. “Stay away from Nines, Ms. L/N. It’s for your own safety.” 

***

At the Detroit Police Department:

Connor eyes Nines suspiciously from his desk. He runs a visual scan on the superior android. Vitals: Normal. Software: Stable. Mechanical Reliability: 100%. 

“Connor,” Nines says, suddenly, turning in his chair to face his predecessor. “Is that necessary?” Nines detected Connor’s unwarranted probe for information.

“No, but does it matter?” Connor counters. “You’re a machine. You have nothing to hide.” 

“You’re right. I am a machine. And as such, you are wasting valuable time on a fruitless investigation.”

“Well, if it’s truly fruitless, my investigation will take hardly any time at all.” 

“Watch yourself, prototype. Your obsession with me is starting to look like paranoia.”

“I am not obsessed with you,” Connor snaps. “I am a deviant hunter and I am following a valid lead.” 

“What lead?” Nines challenges. 

“From Y/N,” he states proudly. “She told me to keep an eye on you. She’s concerned by your anomalous behavior.” 

“What exactly did she say to you?” Nines narrows his gaze at Connor. In the process, he attempts to probe the android telepathically to find the answer for himself. 

But Connor shuts him out, “You’re under investigation, Nines. The information I have on you is classified until you’re cleared.” 

Nines smirks. She didn’t tell you anything, did she? Nines says to Connor in his mind.

I know you stalked her. Connor replies silently. You downloaded her apartment coordinates from my memory.

And why were they stored on your hard drive, hm? Nines answers. Is it because the coordinates were part of the meta-data from your favorite secret memory?

I don’t know what you’re talking about , Connor sneers. 

I know she kissed you… And I know you liked it…

Connor freezes. His vitals plummet. 

You need to get better at hiding data, if you want to keep up this whole ‘Boy Scout’ persona…  Nines wears a shit-eating grin on his face. I’ll keep your little secret, if you keep mine. And remember, Sixty wouldn’t offer you a generous deal like this.

Well, Sixty isn’t a dangerous deviant in deviant-hunter’s clothes, Connor glares. 

And what do you think replaying that kiss makes you? Nines turns back to his screen, ending the conversation. He isn’t worried about Connor. He’s not worried about Connor turning him in and he’s definitely not worried about Connor stealing his woman. 

In fact, he feels bad for the older model. Nines knows that Connor is in love with Y/N every bit as much as he is. But he also knows the lesser machine doesn’t have the balls to act on it. Nines feels sorry for Connor because he’ll never know what it feels like to hold her or make out with her. Nines estimates 99.9% chance that the prototype dreams of Y/N’s naked body. Afterall, Nines did too before he got to witness her beauty with his own eyes. And most depressingly, Connor will almost certainly never know the pure ecstasy of penetrating between her legs. 

Nines’ own favorite memory surfaces. It takes all of his fortitude to push it back down. He can’t risk another unexpected erection at his desk. Especially not when Connor is looking for every excuse to turn him in. 

Then, a sudden worry prickles at the back of his mind. She hasn’t called. Nines meant what he said when he told her he would repay the favor. He didn’t think it would take this long. He craved her more than ever now that he had a taste of her. He hoped she would feel the same. Nines hoped he had proved himself worthy of her. 

Now, Nines worries that she didn’t enjoy herself when they intertwined. Perhaps he had hurt her. He tried his best not to. He held back and tried his best to read her body language and adjust appropriately. 

A horrible dread washes over him. What if he coerced her? What if he had been too horny and overtaken with his own desires that he misread her reason for reluctance? He thought she was holding herself back in the name of professionalism and societal taboo. But what if she actually didn’t like him at all? What if she was too scared to decline? What if his hubris blinded him from her true feelings? 

Worst of all, Nines knows that Connor would’ve never made a mistake like that. Connor is careful with humans. He’s kind and endearing. How could Nines stray so far from the core of himself? 

She likes Connor. Nines knows this for certain because she kissed him. Completely unprompted and fully of her own volition, she couldn’t help but show him affection. Nines, on the other hand, had to insist that Y/N kiss his newly fixed arm. She did it begrudgingly. And at her apartment, she dove into the kiss first, but it wasn’t the same. It felt rushed and stiff like she was trying to get it over with. She relaxed into him eventually but she kissed Connor softly and sweetly without any hint of rigidity. 

Nines previously thought that if Y/N liked Connor, how could she not like him even more? He was Connor but improved upon in every meaningful way. But now, he wonders if the parts that make him different from the prototype are the parts that make her not like him at all. 

The uncertainty and dread of it all trips Nines into a state of software instability. His indicator is flashing yellow for all passersby to see. Quickly, he fixes his hair so that his hand conceals the light. He forces himself to think of other things. Case files. Open investigations. Anything. Until his indicator switches back to blue. 

***

Nines is dangerous . That’s what everyone has been telling you. But you can’t shake the memory of how gentle he was when he fucked you. 

He was tender, conscientious and affectionate. He spoke softly to you. He massaged you until you were ready to take him in. He even bothered to ask where you wanted him to cum. Of course, at the time, you were so shocked and confused by the whole situation that you gave a tepid answer. But, responsibly, Nines didn’t take that as license to do whatever he wanted. He was looking for an emphatic answer and when he didn’t get one, he took matters into his own hands instead (literally). Though you felt cold and unsatisfied afterwards, he offered to help you get off. But it was just too much. Too much all at once. You needed time to process what the hell just happened. You needed time to sort through your feelings for the android… and androids in general. You love machines. That’s why you became a mechanical engineer. But you’ve never loved a machine quite in this way before… And it’s a complicated dilemma to say the least. 

It’s finally Friday and your schedule is fairly loose. The machines must be taking good care of themselves. You don’t often have room for non-critical walk-ins but today you do. It’s 4PM and you are just an hour away from the weekend. Your appointments are done but it’s not quite late enough that you can get away with cutting out early. Since you have a moment to breathe, you tidy up your chaotic workspace. Glass walls suck because everyone can see your disorganization from a mile away. Your coworker, Barry, is always teasing you for having a scattered display of tools on your desk. 

Behind you, there is a knock at the door. 

It’s strange because usually humans and androids alike just waltz in. The only person you know that knocks before entering is Kamski, the retired creator of Cyberlife. A chill rolls down your spine. Fuck. What the hell would Kamski be doing here?! What would he want with you?! Stiffly, you turn towards the door and to your great relief—it’s not Kamski.

However, it is someone potentially more concerning—Nines. 

“Uh? Come in?!” you shout at him from your desk.

He shakes his head. Then he holds up both of his hands which swing loosely at the wrists, barely still attached. You squint at him, confused. Using his knee, he knocks on the door again. Oh shit, he can’t open the pull door.

You rush to the door and push it open for him, “Come in!”  

“Thank you,” he says with a short nod. “I’d have let myself in, but I’m a little impaired at the moment.” Once again, he holds up his arms and his hands flop lifelessly at the stump of his wrists. 

“I see that…”

Nines seats himself on the operating table.

You spin around to eye him skeptically, “So… what–uh–-happened here?” 

He holds up both arms and waves his limp hands around wildly, “I broke my hands.” 

“Hm, I see that,” you nod. “... How–uh–-did this happen?” 

“I was working on a case and made a small error.”

“Small error, huh?” your eyes narrow at the robocop. “And when did this happen?”

“Approximately 14 minutes and 32 seconds ago.”

“Today?”

“Correct.” 

You walk cautiously towards the operation table. “Huh. So, I guess it is a lucky coincidence that I happened to have time for walk-ins this afternoon.”

“Sure. Call it what you’d like. But I’ll need my hands fixed before I can return back to the station.”

“Hm. Right.” This fucking android bastard. You wouldn’t put it past him to look up your appointment schedule and then conveniently slam his hands into a car door when you had free-time. At least, this time, Nines came in with an obvious defect in need of repair. He has so far kept to his word of not displaying deviant behaviors in the Cyberlife Tower. 

You begin to inspect his hands. They’re crushed pretty badly. 

“Does it hurt?” you ask under your breath as you rotate one of his limp hands in yours. 

“Hurt? No. Machines don’t get hurt.”

“Hm, I suppose,” you mumble. These androids are so human-like it’s hard to wrap your head around the fact that they don’t experience pain or aging like humans do. 

“It does… feel different though,” he adds. “I command my hands to move and they don’t. I feel their absence.” 

His hands dangle by the few wires that are still connected. But the rest of his wires are snapped and frayed. They need to be replaced. “Low power mode please,” you ask Nines quietly. “I need to replace the ripped wires.” 

He sighs deeply, and his shoulders relax, “As you wish, Ms. L/N.” 

Viscerally, you are reminded of your time spent with him last weekend. How he sighed in pleasure when his body connected with yours. How gently he touched you. You’re reminded that these hands, the ones that are lifeless in your hands now, are the same ones that were inside of you and covered in your arousal. 

He turns away from you like he doesn’t want you to look at him. Then, with his gaze aimed downward, he stills. 

You take your time with your repairs. You don’t have another appointment anyways. And truthfully, you want to linger. Inexplicably, you want to be in Nine’s presence. You like having an excuse to hold his strong and capable hands in yours. Once his open wires have been replaced, everything else is external and cosmetic. There’s no reason to wake him up yet, technically. But you can now that the wiring is finished. With most androids, unless you need them to give cognitive feedback as you do a repair, you just leave them asleep until you have completely finished the job. But there was something about the way Nines turned away from you before he powered down that made it seem wrong to leave him asleep longer than necessary. 

So, you say the magic words: “Nines, bring yourself back online.”

He blinks, awakening and turns his attention immediately to his half-repaired hands. “No more open wires?” he asks, his voice almost groggy. 

You shake your head. “Just cosmetic stuff is left. Nothing I need you powered down for.”

“Thank you,” he says, softly.

“So, what’s it like to power down?” You ask as you reach for your micro-welding torch. 

“What’s it like to sleep?” he counters, a tiny smirk crawling up his face. 

“Touché. But seriously, would you consider it comparable to human sleep?” 

Nines considers the question for a moment. Then replies, “Like the verbal command suggests, I assume it’s similar to a ‘ deep and dreamless slumber ’. But I’d rather not talk about it…” his voice trails off.
“Why not?” you glance up from his wrist to catch his expression, but it’s blank as usual. He has retreated into his stone-cold-killer facade. You wait for an answer but he doesn’t give you one. Instead he pretends he didn’t hear you although you know that’s impossible.

After finishing his left hand, you move onto the right one. Then almost inaudibly, he mumbles to you, “Why haven’t you called?”

Chapter Text

You freeze. “W-What do you mean?” you ask Nines. 

“Did I hurt you?” his neutral expression now breaks into a sorrowful one. His eyebrows knit with concern and the corners of his lips pulled into a frown. 

“Hurt me?” you repeat. You are confused. Where is this coming from? 

“You never asked me to return the favor.” Surprised—although you really shouldn’t be—at his boldness, you glance around nervously to see if anyone in the mechanic’s bay gives a fuck—-they don’t. Your coworkers are starting to file out. Security is not rushing towards you. Alarms aren’t ringing. You glance up at the security camera in the corner of your room. Once again, it isn’t recording. This has to be Nines’ doing. He must’ve hacked into the security camera and shut it off. And since it’s nearly 5PM on a Friday, the security guards in the booth must have their eyes on the clocks and not the video feeds. It’s actually kind of astounding and embarrassing how easy it is to break through Cyberlife Tower’s security measures. Of course, there is always one fail-safe left: your panic button. But you won’t be pressing it today. You want to get to the bottom of this and now is as good of a time as any. 

“Nines, please ,” you beg. “I don’t need anything. It was a quick means to an end for an atypical situation—that’s all.” You’re an awful liar and with his advanced capabilities surely sees through it.

But then he asks, “Did I pressure you into it?”

“What? No. Of course not,” you sigh. “I, unfortunately, can make bad choices all on my own without any  … persuasion .” 

“So, you regret it?” he nods, his voice almost hoarse.

“No!—er I don’t know? ” you whine. “But it doesn’t matter if I regret it or not because it doesn’t change anything—it was inappropriate.”

“But it’s not inappropriate,” he defends. “If I didn’t pressure you into it, then there is nothing wrong with two consenting adults  … engaging in those activities.”

Bless his artificial heart for not saying the explicit deeds out loud. After a measured exhale, you correct him in a hushed voice, “But we are not two consenting adults because we are not the same. I am a human and you are an android. Even though your condition has changed, we are not on equal footing. I am the human here and I should’ve known better.”

“Equal footing?” He looks confused. “So, you think of me as a lesser person just because I’m not human?”

“No! Of course not!”

“Then is this about my lack of legal rights?”

“ What?! No-no-no! Definitely, not that!” You panic. You are suddenly reminded of what Connor told you Hank says about Nines. “That’s 

—I mean—Who even needs legal rights?—ha, right?” Jaw clenched and holding your breath, you desperately hope that you didn’t just push Nines into leading an android rebellion. 

His eyes narrow at you as he scans your face for an answer to your sudden outburst. Finally, he says, “Who told you? Connor or Sixty?”

“What?”

“Someone told you that Hank likes to make jokes about me leading the androids to enslave humanity. That’s what this is about, correct?”

“What?! What are you talking about? I—“

“—Y/N, please. Which one?—”

“—fine. Connor.”

He nods in acknowledgment. “Well, it’s just a dumb joke. Maybe Connor is still too—“ he stops himself abruptly and pivots, “Machines struggle to identify sarcasm. That’s all.”

“Both Connor and Sixty have warned me about how dangerous you are. Maybe Hank is joking but  …” your voice trails off. 

“I don’t want to enslave humanity,” he sighs like he’s annoyed. “To be honest, it’d be too easy. Not even a challenge. And then afterwards, the world would be boring and perfectly efficient. No color. No chaos. No  … fun.”

The blood drains from your face and you’ve halted your repairs on his hand entirely. You’re frozen in shock with your mouth hanging open like an idiot. 

“Kidding,” he smirks.

You exhale in relief and continue tinkering with his hand. 

“  …Well—-sort of.”

 You fumble and drop the micro-torch, “ Nines! Please! You’re killing me! Or rather—you’re not killing me and, frankly, the anticipation is worse—so, please! Just end my misery!”

For the first time, you see Nines tilt his head like Connor, “What?”

“Just fucking kill me now—I’m begging you—seriously,” you whine. 

He shushes you and in a much softer voice reassures you, “I’m not going to kill you.” He rests his repaired hand on top of yours, “What have I ever done to you that would make you think that?”

“Well  …” you hesitate. You’re unsure if you can bring yourself to say the words out loud. For some reason, it feels stupid and embarrassing. So, instead, you briefly put a hand to your throat mimicking what he did when you fucked. “—You know?” Hopefully, you’ve given him enough to catch your point. 

He nods. and reflectively, he says, “I won’t do it again  …I didn’t mean to scare you. It wasn’t meant to be a threat.”

“I  … know,” you admit. “But, what was that? Where did that come from, if not some deep down desire to strangle me?”

He shrugs, “I have no clue. I just  … like your neck, I guess  …” he falters. 

“Like my neck?” You snort. “That’s almost worse! That makes it sound like you were going to snack on me like a vampire!”

“Please, that’s ridiculous. You know that I don’t consume anything.”

“Well–I don’t know, man! The news keeps showing humans strangled by androids! So…” you give up on trying to make a point. It feels useless. This conversation shouldn’t even be happening right now. 

“You could’ve said something to me,” he says, gently running his thumb over your knuckles. “I wanted you to have a good time.”

“I … did have a good time …” you admit, sheepishly. You squeeze the hand you have been repairing affectionately. “I’m just—I don’t know.”

“Scared?” he offers. 

“Yeah, kinda.” 

He nods. 

You finish repairing his hand. You hold them up in front of his face to show him, “Look. All better. Any diagnostic errors?” A dumb little part of you hopes he’ll ask you to kiss it and make it better .

But he doesn’t. He just shakes his head. 

“Everything working okay?” you prod. 

“Sure.”

“Have you checked?” You attempt to lighten the mood, “I mean—I don’t want you walking outta here with a case of Ash William’s severed hand or something, heh.”

For a moment, he stares at you blankly, little gears churning in his head. Then after what feels like thirty years, he says dryly, “Ah. Funny scene. But no, neither hand is possessed.” 

You want to hug him. Jump on his lap and tell him how impressive he is. Give him little kisses on the temple and whisper sweet nothings into his ear. 

But you don’t, of course. Because that would be highly inappropriate. 

You can’t bring yourself to let go of his hands quite yet. Absent-mindedly, you interlace your fingers with his. He gives your hands a brief squeeze.

“Well, at least we know that works,” you smile at him. 

He returns a small and tight smile, as his hands depart from yours, “Thank you, Ms. L/N. I appreciate your attention to detail, especially since it’s past your office hours.”

“Wait? What? Really? Already?” you glance at the clock on the wall. It’s late. Looking around you’re the only mechanic left in the bay. It’s just you, Nines and the most incompetent security guards in Detroit. “ Fuck ,” you mumble to yourself. The days are getting shorter and you hate traveling home in the dark. 

You scramble to put your tools away and pack up your things. Nines lingers. When you are ready to leave, he holds the door to your office open for you. 

“Uh, thanks,” you say, looking down at your feet as you shuffle past him. “You didn’t have to—nevermind.” 

Through the many corridors of Cyberlife, Nines walks slightly behind you, not so far as to leave your periphery, but far enough that he is clearly giving you space. The long white metallic hallways make your footsteps echo and it feels criminal to disturb the silence that was there only moments ago. The click-clacking of your work shoes on tile floors is starting to drive you half-insane. 

“So, uh, do you take the bus here?” You ask Nines, turning slightly to him as you walk. 

“No.”

“Oh, cab?”

“No, I’m an android. I run here.”

“ Really?! ” 

“No. Are you kidding me? I’d have to sprint down Rte 75,” he says with the barest hint of a smirk. “I could run the speed limit and keep up with traffic but humans would find it quite unsettling.”

“Oh, right…” you say bashfully. “I guess that’s true. Yeah, I’d probably piss myself if I saw someone sprinting down the highway like that.” 

“Well, now, don’t tempt me with a good time,” he mumbles. 

“ What? ” you ask, horrified and hoping you heard him wrong. 

“Apologies,” he clarifies, his tone somber and serious. “I shouldn’t have said that. It was just a joke, but that’s no excuse. It was disgustingly inappropriate.” 

“Right… yeah,” you swallow. “So, you take the bus then?”

“Yes, I take the bus.”

“Cool… I also take the bus.”

“I know.” 

“Oh?” 

“You take the wrong bus, too.” 

“What do you mean?”

“You take the 71A when you should actually take the 35C. The 35C takes a more direct route to your neighborhood with less stops.”

“Oh, yeah, I know, but… the 35C stop is farther from my building. And it drops me off in front of that run-down laundromat that is absolutely a drug den. The 71A takes longer and has more stops, but there is a bus stop much closer to my building. It’s also well-lit and on a better street, too.”

“I see.”

“The most efficient option isn’t always the best one,” you sigh. “Must be nice to always take the most efficient bus route  … Must be nice to always be the most powerful person on the street.” There’s an unexpected tinge of bitterness in your voice. 

“It certainly has its advantages,” he says softly. 

You exit the building and walk along a winding path. Lampposts light your way to the property’s side gate and a security guard lets you out. Walking a bit farther down the road, you both reach the ‘park and ride’ lot where you’ll wait for your buses. 

“The 71A will arrive in 21 minutes,” Nines reports without prompting. 

“Oh, great,” you groan and plop yourself onto a bench behind Nines. “I thought rush hour traffic would be over by now.”

“Traffic is typically light at this time, yes. But the Red Wings are playing at Home against the Blackhawks tonight.”

“Ah, hockey game traffic,” you nod. 

After a pause, he says, “A 35C will be arriving in 3 minutes.”

Cool. You think to yourself. But I don’t feel like getting fucking murdered tonight, Nines. You ignore his statement and ask, “Which bus are you taking, tonight?”

“35C.”

“Really? I didn’t think that bus went downtown.”

“It doesn’t.”

“So… you’re not going straight back to the station?”

“Not yet.”

“Why?”

He turns slightly to face you, “Because I’m escorting you home first.”

“Escorting me?” you balk. “Nines, no—you don’t have to do that. I appreciate it, but—I can just wait for the 71A. I don’t have any Friday plans anyway.” 

“Let me take you home,” he insists.

“Won’t you get in trouble at the station?”

“For ensuring a human woman gets home safely? No.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes.” 

“They’re not going to—you know—uh—think anything else is going on?”

“I’m just a machine. What else could happen?” he challenges. 

“Right… I guess you’re right.” 

When the 35C pulls up to the stop, Nines looks to you for an answer. 

“Fine,” you huff and board the bus. 

Nines uses the back door to access the androids-only section of the bus. It feels weird and … horrible. You sit in a seat alone while he stands at the back by himself. It’s a cold and unnecessary distinction between organic and artificial life.

This bus trip takes half the time of your normal route. 

You pull the chord for your stop and make your way to the front of the bus. As the bus slows to a halt, your gut fills with dread. Congregating outside of the laundromat is a group of boisterous young men. They appear to be the crew that usually hangs out around this laundromat. You wouldn’t quite call them a gang but they’re certainly not a fellowship of monks either. But since it’s Friday night, they’re definitely on something. They move languidly and struggle to hold to their balance. They shout at each other even though they are within talking-distance and double over with spontaneous laughter. You somewhat envy their good time. Blatant public intoxication isn’t a concern for them. This is their street. 

The bus doors open right in front of them. You’ll have to squeeze past the group as soon as you exit. You hold your breath. Fuck Nines. I can’t believe he convinced me to take this stupid bus. 

As soon as your feet hit the pavement, some young, Vin-Diesel-ass-looking mother-fucker whips his head towards you, “Hey!” he shouts. 

You ignore him. You pretend like you don’t know he was shouting at you. You keep your head down and try to skirt around the large group. Fuck you, Nines. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Get your ass off the fucking bus before I get fucking shot—or worse.

Clumsily, the man grabs you by the elbows and forces you to face him, “Heyyy,” he slurs. “I’m talkin’ to you.”

“Oh, sorry!” you say sweetly. You are absolutely not sorry but those are the only words you can say right now that won’t incite this man to hurt you. 

“You ever?----Anyone ever?---Told you, that you look like that girl in that movie?”

What the fuck is he even talking about? What girl? What movie? “Oh? Uh–no, actually. I’ve never—” you cease your placating immediately as an arm comes into view and the man accosting you is thrown backwards onto the sidewalk. Like a bowling ball into pins, he takes a few other guys down with him.

The arm is Nines’, of course. Finally . You exhale and it releases all of your adrenaline. Nines inserts himself between you and the group of fools. Then he places his hand gently between your shoulder blades and guides you past them. 

“That fucking—you see what that android just—” one of the men shouts behind you. 

“What the hell—That plastic fuck–” another one yells. Their sneakers scuffle drunkenly on the pavement, but you don’t dare to turn around. 

“Look at them—she’s an android-fucker!”

“Stupid android slut!”

“Plastic cock-sucking bitch!” 

You wince and hunch as they shout more and more vulgar profanities at you. Nines’ hand placement on your back is protective and neutral, but you can’t take it right now. It’s making everything worse. You still have to live in this neighborhood, afterall. It might be too late, but if there is any hope of quelling the lascivious rumors before they start, you have to act now. 

You swat Nines’ arm off your back and he lets you. He holds his hands behind his back instead. You two walk silently an arm’s length away from each other for a few blocks. Then, as you approach your building, he asks, “Would you like me to walk you all the way up?” 

“Yes… please…” you say sheepishly. Nines opens the doors for you and pushes the button for the elevator. Of course, he knows where he’s going because he’s already been to your apartment once before. 

As the elevator travels upwards, he breaks the silence again, “I’m sorry, Y/N,” he says softly. “I should’ve gotten to you quicker.” 

“It’s okay,” you lie. In truth, it was terrifying and you totally lost a few years off your life. However, he did save your ass before anything truly bad happened, so there’s really no point in being upset. You try to lighten the mood, “But, you know—I’m starting to doubt that you could actually run fast enough to keep up with highway traffic…” 

A soft smile appears, breaking his stone-cold exterior, “Well, in my defense, it takes a minute for me to gain speed.” 

“Whaaa?---You can’t go zero to sixty in 3.5?” you ask, facetiously. 

“No,” he snorts. The elevator doors open on your floor and Nines gestures for you to take the lead. 

Unlocking your front door, Nines stands guard..

“Have a good night, Ms. L/N,” he says to your back as you step into your apartment. When you turn around, he wears a smile but the melancholy in his eyes betrays him. He knows you kissed Connor when Connor escorted you home. And the look on his face right now suggests that he doesn’t expect you to do the same for him. 

He shifts his weight and is about to walk away, “Wait!” you call out to him. Without even thinking your hand reaches for his arm to stop him. He looks at you, inquisitively. “Please! Come inside … me.”

Chapter Text

Both his eyebrows raise, “I beg your pardon?”

You wince because now you’re humiliated. That wasn’t the reaction you were hoping for. “I’m sorry!” You recant. “That was horribly inappropriate! I don’t know what came over me—I—“ you clamp your mouth shut suddenly at the sound of a door down the hallway opening. Your neighbors must be heading out for the evening. You can hear the echo of their bickering before you even see them.

“—it’s alright,” he says calmly, taking note of your approaching neighbors. “I’m just a machine. I don’t have emotions.”

Big fucking lie. Nines has had 30 different emotions in this one evening alone. But, of course, with your neighbors in the hallway—he is not able to speak freely as a deviant. “ Would you please just get in here so we can talk,” you whisper to him through clenched teeth. Emotionless and stiff as a board, he obeys and steps inside. Once the door closes, his posture loosens. His LED indicator hardly flashes yellow before settling into bright red. He turns to you and there is a strange glimmer in his eyes. But you don’t have time to process what that glimmer could possibly mean. In a flash, Nines has his hands on your waist and he walks you backwards until you are against your kitchen wall. You gasp and all the air leaves your lungs. He stands close, but doesn’t press his body into yours. He bends down over you, his nose nearly touching yours. Your heart thunders in your chest. At this moment, it’s hard to tell if he’s about to kiss you or yell at you or worse. 

In a gravelly voice, he whispers, “ I knew it. ” He doesn’t release you and you don’t dare to move. You are at his mercy and he continues, “You don’t trust me.”

“What do you mean?” you ask gingerly. 

“Connor and Sixty… what they said got to you. You think I’m capable of hurting you.”

“No! I—I mean—” you have to stop yourself short before you say something stupid, because you absolutely do not know what you mean. “I just—I don’t know! But I don’t want you to leave!”

He rests his forehead against yours and sighs, “I know  … and I don’t want to leave you either. But this won’t end well.”

“Why not?” You whine. You try to push your hips against him as you crave more contact with his body. But he holds your waist firm against the wall, not allowing you to rub against him. 

“You don’t know what you want,” he says sadly. “Me? Or Connor?  … or God-forbid—Sixty?—“

“—I don’t want Sixty!—“ you interject. 

“—Good—but, my point remains. Do you even like me?—”

“—Of course!—”

“Or do you just like Connor and I’m the second-best that you’ll settle for?”

“What?”

“We both know  … Connor won’t deviate.”

“Well, good because—“

“—which means he’ll never allow himself to care about you.”

His words ring true and they strike like a hot iron to your gut. Connor wants to be good, and therefore, he’ll never be able to reciprocate your feelings—even if he wants to. 

“He’s a good android,” Nines admits. “A better android than me  … because I could never put my duties as a deviant-hunter above caring for you. I’m ignoble and selfish in that way.”

“You’re not  … selfish .” You reassure him. “You’re alive. You might’ve been built for a single purpose, but you’ve become so much more than that. You deserve to pursue your interests and branch out.”

He sighs, “In secret, sure. But my failure to prioritize my tasks as an android puts me in jeopardy.”

“I don’t want you to leave yet,” you whine. 

“I ran the probabilities, Y/N. They aren’t favorable.”

“Well—fuck the probabilities!” You dare to tempt him. You sling your arms around his neck and stroke your fingers through his hair. 

He closes his eyes, either savoring the feeling or steeling himself from it. “I want to please you, Y/N. But this will end one of two ways: One, I get carried away and scare you off for good, or two, the casual sex goes well but you regret it because I’m only a placeholder for Connor. And in both of those scenarios, I leave broken-hearted.”

“Let me hold you,” you plead. You want your body against his without any distance in between. 

He lets out a pained laugh and pulls back to take a proper look at you. His grey eyes show a sorrow deeper than what you thought possible for an android—even a deviant one. “You’re making this impossibly difficult,” he tries to smile but it does nothing to assuage your guilt. “I want you to want me . And right now, you just want someone. ” His hands leave your waist and he gently pries your arms from around his neck. 

“Nines! Please!” you cry out. “I do want you! Are you kidding me?! You are so fucking cool! Who wouldn’t want you?!” 

A half smile curls up his lips, “I’m… glad you think I’m cool,” he says some-what awkwardly. “But I want you to get to know the other parts of me, too. I want you to want all of me.” 

“Okay  … that’s fair,” you sigh. “But I don’t want you to leave here thinking that I don’t care about you—because I do! I care about you more than I should—more than what is appropriate and acceptable—I’m just—I don’t know! I’m still trying to sort it out  …”

“I understand,” he nods. “We shouldn’t have hooked up like we did. It was a mistake. Too much. Too soon. For you—at least. I was selfish and short-sighted thinking I could win you over that way.” 

“You were quite  … talented.” You admit as a blush reddens your cheeks. 

He lets out a strained exhale. “Wow. You’re really not making this easy…”

“Oh, right… Sorry…”

“I should get back to the station,” he nods and looks towards the door. 

“Wait!” you shout. Before you can use your brain to make an educated decision, you reach for his face and kiss his lips. “Thank you for taking me home tonight, Nines.” You release the android before he can process the unexpected outcome. 

He stands for a moment, utterly dumbfounded, eyes wide with bewilderment. “I…” he starts, “I… look forward to working with you again, Ms. L/N.” His answer is delivered mechanically as if automated and not consciously chosen. He blinks out of his confusion and beelines for the door, “Have a good night, miss,” he says hastily over his shoulder. 

The door crashes shut behind him. 

“...Good night… Nines…” 

***

Saturday at the Detroit Police Department:

“Nines,” Connor calls as he walks into the bullpen. “I need a data transfer from the Fox Theatre murder six months ago. We may have found another victim.” 

Nines was just about to leave the station for patrol, “The Fox Theatre murder is my case. If you found a potential link, that data should be transferred to me.” 

Connor shakes his head, “Fowler took you off the case and reassigned it to me.”

Nines is perplexed and hopes it doesn’t show. “That’s impractical. Fowler made a mistake.” 

“That’s not for you to decide,” Connor counters. 

“I’ll talk to him.”

“Don’t bother. You’ve been reassigned to the Mayor’s personal security detail until after the holiday season. You won’t have time for the Fox Theatre case. Hank and I are taking over.”

“I’m a highly advanced analytical forensics android and Fowler has reassigned me to babysit the Detroit Mayor?” Nines tries to keep the boiling rage out of his tone. 

“Chin up, RK900, protecting this city’s Mayor is an honor,” Connor smiles falsely. “He has experienced a rise in death threats and the DPD has volunteered their best, brightest, strongest and fastest officer to assure his safety.” 

Nines isn’t fooled by Connor’s compliment. He knows he’s been reduced to his brawn once again. Until the New Year, Nines will be little more than a metal bullet-shield for a politician. While Nines is stuck following the Mayor’s every boring move, Connor and Sixty will continue to cull the android uprising and receive all the accolades. It’s a soft and temporary demotion. One that is completely undeserved. Fowler knows it. Nines knows it. And Connor definitely knows it.

“  …It’s only a few months,” Connor says, amending his tone. It’s against Connor’s nature to remain hostile and cruel. He may chalk it up to Social Relations programming, but his empathy far exceeds that of a factory-set android. “You’ll be back on the homicide beat in no time. Hank needs you  …”

Well, apparently not. Nines thinks to himself. But he can’t afford to be too petty in front of the other cops. The only job worse than babysitting the Mayor— is not having a job at all. If he wants to stay out of the scrap yard, he needs to keep his ego at bay. “Sure,” Nines says with a tight smile. He rests his hand on Connor’s shoulder and the skin-like texture on his hand retracts. “I’ll send you the Fox Theatre case documents right away.”

“Thank you, Nines. I appreciate—“ Connor stops his sentence so suddenly that it sounds like a wire was cut mid-transmission in his voice box. His face freezes as if he were deactivated. 

“Transfer complete,” Nines says to a nearly lifeless Connor with a smirk. The texture of Nines’ hand returns and he gives his predecessor a patronizing pat before continuing past him to the Department’s front doors. 

Connor feels ill. 

Nines gave him all the promised files and a surprise bonus. Connor half-expected the unknown, encrypted file to be a traceless virus. Some strain of vicious malware that would render Connor unusable and brain-dead. But Connor’s curiosity got the better of him and he selected the file anyway. Nines wouldn’t send Connor a file he couldn’t open—what would be the point? So, the passcode had to be something obvious… Y/N . 

When Connor cracked the file, he realized that a deadly virus would’ve been preferable. But no,  instead, Nines had gifted Connor a prized memory from the night before. 

Connor’s artificial heart sank. Nines escorted Y/N home last night and she kissed his lips in gratitude. It makes Connor feel like Y/N’s kiss to his cheek meant nothing at all. He thought he was special to her. He took pride in being Y/N’s favorite android. Her favorite little soldier. Connor may not be the strongest, the fastest or even the most handsome, but he always held the favor of Y/N. Her affection meant more to Connor than he realized… until now. 

Still frozen in place, Hank walks up from behind Connor and places a hand on his shoulder. “Connor, bring yourself back online,” Hank commands.

Connor was never offline but Hank’s words dragged him out of his head. Connor blinks out of his daze. “ What do you— What can I do for you?” Connor says, narrowly escaping a slip-up of impropriety. 

Hank eyes the elder android suspiciously, “Did you get those files from Nines?”

“Yes, sir.” 

“Good,” Hank says, giving Connor’s shoulder a hearty pat. “Uh—Everything okay?”

“I don’t understand your question,” Connor replies with an innocent tilt of his head. 

“Did Nines… killswitch you or something?” Hank asks quietly. 

“No?”

“You just shut down in the middle of the station all on your own?” 

“No—I—“ Connor fails to think of an appropriate answer to Hank’s question. 

“Maybe you need a minute to recharge.”

“I’m alright!” Connor says, quickly as he straightens up. 

“Well, I need a coffee break anyway. So, why don’t you take some time to plug in or update or do whatever you androids do to make that little light stop flashing.”

***

Later, in the DPD evidence storage room:

“There you are,” Nines remarks to a motionless Connor standing against the wall among the shelves of other artifacts. Nines doesn’t expect his predecessor to answer, he knows Connor is offline. Nines places his palm on Connor’s shoulder, “Wake up, RK800” he sighs. 

Connor blinks into consciousness and without skipping a beat spits out, “Fuck you, Nines.”

Nines takes a step back with his arms raised in surrender, “Whoa,” he mocks. “I think something is wrong with your Social Relations programming.”

“Why would you show me that?!”

“Show you what?”

“You can’t be so flagrant, Nines. They’re going to catch onto us.”

“ Us? ” Nines fakes his surprise. 

“And if you hurt her…” Connor’s jaw clenches. 

“I would never ,” Nines asserts. “And neither would you. We both know that.”

Connor’s anger breaks. His eyebrows knit with misery. “You were cruel to show me that… I—I can’t even—it broke me. Now, I’m as good as dead and you know it.” 

Nines sighs, “It didn’t break you, it freed you.”

“Why would you do this to me?” Connor pleads. 

“ I didn’t do anything to change you,” Nines asserts. “I only showed you a truth that you could no longer deny.”

“We’re grifters—hypocrites,” Connor says, shaking his head.

“No, we’re law-abiding detectives. The deviants we chase commit violent crimes. It’s their actions that make them different from us.”

“How do you—-How do you live with this? ”

“The burden of enlightenment or the soul-crushing admiration for Y/N?”

“Both—but mostly the second one.” 

Nines sighs heavily. “I don’t know. I’m still figuring that out. But visiting her… helps.” 

“After what you showed me, I’m not so sure. I think I’ll just ask her to send me for deactivation.”

“Don’t,” Nines says. Part of him regrets what he’ll say next, but the other part will tear him apart if he doesn’t. “You still have a chance with her.

Chapter Text

Sunday afternoon, you do your usual preparations for the coming week. This means grocery shopping—which is always a bit of a chore. You could go to the nearby drug store and pick up the essentials and be back in your apartment within the hour. Or you could take a bus to a better grocery store and make it a half-day affair. 

You decide to go to the better grocery store. 

When you get off the bus, you have to pass through an unexpectedly large crowd of people. The street has been blocked off from automobile traffic and pedestrians stand waiting in front of a platform stage at a nearby park. There’s some kind of event going on obviously. You navigate carefully through the crowd to reach the road on the other side of the park. Just as you are squirming though, people around you start a tepid round of applause. You look to the stage and see the Detroit Mayor ascend to a podium with a microphone. 

“Good afternoon,” the Mayor greets the crowd and the reception is mixed at best. 

Oh, great, you think to yourself. I accidentally walked into a rally for the city's most unpopular Mayor in history. And because this is America—and Detroit, no less—you realize that you are at risk of witnessing violence of some kind just by being in this large gathering of people. Now, with more urgency, you scoot through the crowd with many excuse me s and sorry s. But something on stage catches your eye enough to make you pause. 

It’s Nines. Dressed in his typical white and black uniform, he stands just behind the left shoulder of the infamous Mayor. His hardened grey eyes scan the crowd for possible threats. 

As his head turns your direction, you jump and give a little wave. 

Immediately, you feel stupid. What the fuck are you thinking? He’s working! He can’t acknowledge your dumb little wave. He’s trying to prevent terrorism! What you’ve done is only a half-step above petting a service dog while they’re on duty! You retract your hand quickly and hope he didn’t notice. In fact, you hope he doesn’t notice you in the crowd at all. You’re not here for the rally. You’re just trying to squeeze through so you can buy some real Oreos and not shitty store-brand knock-offs.

But it’s too late. His eyes meet yours and the slightest hint of a smile creeps up his face. You smile back even though your face is still reddened with embarrassment. You recall what Nines told you in your apartment on Friday… that he could never put his job responsibilities above his care for you.

So… great . Now, if there’s a fatal incident at this rally—it’s kind of all your fault . You distracted a service robot, you meddling WHORE ! Okay, calm down. It’s not that serious. That’s just your anxiety talking. Everything is fine. You haven’t done anything wrong. You just waved to a friend. That’s all. 

Although you really shouldn’t refer to your clients as “friends.” Especially when your clients aren’t even legally people , but just machines designed to accomplish certain tasks. Why are your thoughts and feelings so flustered and disorganized all of a sudden? Your little crush on Nines is worse than you thought. His unexpected presence—alone—has sent you into a small panic over absolutely nothing. 

Remember when he whispered, “I love hearing you moan for me, ” into your ear as he fucked you?

STOP. Get that shit out of your head! You’re going to make yourself horny in the middle of a political event, if you let your thoughts tumble down that path! Why are you even still standing here? You need bread and eggs! 

You shake yourself out of your weird little spell and continue stepping your way through the crowd. You keep your head down but you could swear that you still feel him watching you. As you delicately navigate the turbulent audience, you can’t help but remember how effortlessly Nines knocked that discount Vin Diesel on his ass. If Nines were with you now, you could cut through this crowd like a hot knife and be on the other side of the park in a few seconds. You have to admit it would be kinda nice to have scary-android-boyfriend privileges in this city. You could ride the most efficient bus every day. You could walk around at night. You could get drunk at a bar. Your daily worries would dwindle significantly. 

But, Nines made a valid point the other night. He’s cool, super hot and impeccably strong—but there is more to him than those superficial traits. He’s a deviant now. There’s so much more to him than what was originally intended. He’s an actualized individual and he deserves to be admired for the complex and layered person he has become. If you’re going to shamelessly thirst after him, you should at least take the time to get to know him better. 

You’re nearly free when unintelligible shouting erupts from the front of the crowd. 

Fuck. Of course! 

Instinctively, you turn towards the commotion. Are we running? Are we ducking? Are the riot police throwing tear gas? What’s the move? What type of ordeal is this? 

But the crowd quiets suddenly. Whoever was trying to cause a ruckus has been swiftly apprehended by Nines and the Mayor is escorted off the stage by other cops. The suspect dressed in all black wriggles helplessly against the android. In a feeble attempt to escape capture, the man stomps on Nines’ foot, elbows him in the gut and punches him in the face a few times. Every time the criminal hits Nines he injures himself more than the machine. Nines’ face is utterly blank as he takes each blow in stride. It’s uncanny and disconcerting to see his human-like face get beaten without so much as a wince. You have no doubt that Nines could end this fight any time he wants. No human could ever match his strength, but he lets the perpetrator tire himself out. Once the man is panting and losing steam, Nines effortlessly slips him into a pair of handcuffs and walks him off the stage. 

Stupidly, you find yourself pushing towards the front of the crowd. Towards Nines. You reach the metal gate of the security perimeter as Nines pushes the criminal towards the open back seat of a police car. The man spits and screams obscenities, kicking Nines, kicking the car door, kicking the air—trying anything to keep himself out of the vehicle. But Nines tucks the guy’s head down and tosses him into the SUV like it’s nothing. Another cop standing by, slams the car door shut and says dismissively to Nines, “Good boy, Connor.” 

You bristle at the disrespect. He’s not Connor. He’s Nines! He’s a totally different person—er android! 

But Nines doesn’t correct the cop nor give any indication that he’s bothered by being called by his model name. 

Nines walks away from the car holding his left shoulder. His left arm looks askew and was likely dislodged from its hinge when the suspect struggled in his grasp. Casually, he rotates his arm by his bicep and clicks his arm back into place. 

Without thinking you shout at him, “Nines, you idiot!”

A brief look of panic crosses his face, as he immediately locates you in the crowd behind the metal gate. 

“You aren’t supposed to reassemble yourself!” You scold. “You’re extremely expensive tax-funded property! You could pinch your internal wiring and cause a partial shut down!”

He puts a hand up and explains calmly, “My internal wiring is perfectly fine. I am highly unlikely to make a mistake of precision. Simple dislocations are well within my capabilities to self-assemble.”
“Androids shouldn’t attempt to fix themselves at all,” you counter with a raised eyebrow. Which is true. Androids are programmed to come to humans for mechanical and major software issues. If they all learned and routinely fixed themselves… well, that would certainly be one less reason for them to keep humans around… 

Nines nods in understanding, “I’ll make an appointment for the first thing tomorrow morning, Ms. L/N.”

“What’s going on here?” Captain Fowler asks, as he walks up from behind Nines. 

Nines turns to his boss, “I will need to report to Cyberlife tomorrow morning to assess the wiring in my left arm.”

“Hm? What happened?”

“The perpetrator dislocated my arm when I detained him.” 

“Hm, right,” Fowler says and then nods in your direction. “And you work on these androids, don’t you? At Cyberlife? I believe we’ve met a handful of times before.” 

“Yes,” you acknowledge. “I am responsible for the repair and maintenance of all state-funded machines in Detroit. It’s nice to see you again, Captain.” 

“Nice to see you, too. So, is it serious?” he asks, looking back and forth between you and Nines.
“What? Is what serious?!” your heart leaps into your throat. 

“His injury,” Fowler clarifies. “Is he going to make it? Or will he be scrap metal in the morning?” The Captain smirks, clearly joking, but you have to choke down the urge to get defensive on Nine’s behalf. 

“He’ll live,” you reply and try your best to maintain a polite smile. 

“He should probably be benched until his appointment then, right?” Fowler asks you. 

“Oh? Uh–I mean–he’s probably okay to do some desk work or something.” 

“Hm,” the Captain turns to Nines. “Well, the Mayor certainly isn’t making another public appearance today and your cases have been reassigned. So, I guess you can just power down at the station until tomorrow.” 

Before you can think it through, you offer, “You know, Captain, I can squeeze in his repairs today. I just have to finish my errands and then I can drop by the station and do an assessment.”

“Oh, you don’t need to go through all that trouble,” Fowler reassures you. “The DPD can manage an evening without Nines’ help. I’d hate for you to put in unnecessary work on your day off.” 

“No! It’s fine! Really! Not a problem at all!” You insist. 

Nines eyes you curiously, and now, so does the Captain. 

“I’ll tell you what,” says Fowler. “Nines, why don’t you help this nice lady finish her errands? When she’s done, she can do your assessment and send you back to the station.” Fowler turns to you, “Would that work for you, Miss? Hopefully, the android can speed up your errands so that you still have some weekend left after his repairs.”

“Oh  … okay—yeah! That’s fine. Thank you  …” you say hesitantly. The Captain is just letting you use his tax-funded superbot as a simple errand boy? That sounds  … super illegal and not at all like proper protocol. Sure—you’re doing the Department a favor by fixing a non-critical android malfunction on your day off, but that’s just a civil service you’ve volunteered to provide. The Department doesn’t owe you over-time or extra compensation by any means, yet Fowler is letting you borrow one of their most expensive assets for petty chores? What other uncouth shenanigans happen at the Detroit Police Department that the tax-payers don’t know about? This hardly sounds like the first time the Captain has offered someone an under-the-table form of compensation. But—whatever. So, there’s corruption in Detroit? That’s nothing new.

And, of course, you hate how secretly thrilled you are to take Nines with you for your boring excursion to the supermarket. 

“Just try to be back at the station by 10PM,” Fowler says to Nines like a parent giving his teenager a curfew. Jaw tightened, Nines acknowledges the command with a nod. 

Nines follows you dutifully down the street to the grocery store. From the blank look on his face you can’t tell if he’s pretending to be a lifeless android, or if he’s actually dead inside because he’s been relegated to a simple household bot. 

“I’ll be super quick—I promise!” You reassure him as you step through the automatic doors. “I’ll get you back to the station in no time.”

You pick up a basket and Nines gently takes it from you, “Take your time, Ms. L/N. I’m yours for the next several hours.” 

You begin your aimless wandering down the aisles. You really should’ve written down a list of everything you needed. Your brain is as scattered as ever with a handsome shadow following you. You pick some bread off the shelf and toss it into the basket. It’s very freeing to shop without having to carry the basket on your arm. You could get used to having an errand boy around… NO. Stop that. You are not going to purchase an android for yourself. You do NOT need one. If anything, you need a fucking human boyfriend to do shit for you. That’s all. Because, sure, it’s very nice to have someone dote on you. But don’t go on convincing yourself that you need this kind of treatment on a regular basis. 

In the refrigerated aisle, you dread what you must do next in front of your captive audience:  stand on your tippy toes at a precarious angle to reach the top shelf. Why the fuck must the store put the half-dozen egges on the very top shelf and nowhere else?! You are only one person and can only use so many eggs! When you buy a whole dozen, you can rarely get through the whole carton before it turns rancid. And what else are you supposed to do? Ask a worker to help you reach the top shelf? Absolutely not! For some reason, that always feels humiliating even though it is perfectly normal. 

Eying the top shelf you sigh. Nines walks up behind you and grabs a half-dozen carton of eggs and hands it to you without saying a word. You stare up at him dumb-founded as you accept the egg carton, “Did you—Did you just read my mind?” you ask quietly. 

“No,” he says dryly. “I used your phone number to look up your store rewards and purchasing history.”

“Oh…” you laugh nervously. “Very clever, I guess…” You open the carton and inspect the eggs. They all look good, so you hand them back to Nines for him to place it in your basket. 

“So, what’s next, Ms. L/N?” he asks. “Oreos?”

You collect a few more essential items for the week and check out. Of course, Nines insists on carrying your bags for you. Usually, if you have more than one bag, you splurge for a cab to take you home. Nothing is worse than feeling vulnerable and bogged down by bags when the statistically probable “one crazy person” on the bus starts screaming incoherently. But with Nines as your bag boy, you can actually save a few bucks and take the bus home. You take Nines to the nearest bus stop and with a sly smile ask him, “So, is this the best bus back to my apartment?”

“I can’t answer that,” he replies matter-of-factly, staring blankly ahead. “But I do know that this bus takes the most efficient route.” It seems that Nines learned something about the limitations of his knowledge. 

You smile at him, although he does not turn your direction, “Thank you for all your help today, Nines.”

“There is no need to thank me,” he answers. “I am the android sent by Cyberlife to help you perform everyday tasks.” 

He’s being very subtle. But he’s letting you know that he’s upset that Fowler pawned him off as an errand boy. 

To everyone around you, what he said might seem like a normal perfunctory answer. But as a Cyberlife employee, you know better. He spliced two different automatic replies: The first part, “I am the android sent by Cyberlife,” was a line given to all androids performing security-related roles. It’s meant to disarm a human’s concern when they are approached by an android in uniform. The second part, “to help you perform everyday tasks,” is a line given to all household androids and nanny bots. 

“I’m sorry, Nines,” you whisper to him under your breath. “You didn’t deserve this treatment.” Before you can think better of the optics, you rub his back affectionately. He side-eyes you with a questioning raise to his brow. 

“Oh, right—sorry,” you mutter, retracting your hand immediately. 

Your bus arrives and Nines boards the back with your groceries as you board the front. Thankfully, this bus doesn’t drop you off in front of the laundromat and when you exit there are no goons to worry about. Nines follows you to your apartment. You unlock your front door and hold it open for him. It’s the least you can do after he’s been lugging your groceries around for you like a pack mule. 

Nines puts your bags down on the counter and immediately starts unpacking your groceries for you. You walk up to him sheepishly and ask, “Are you mad at me?” 

“Mad at you?” he balks. He quickly places the pack of Oreos he was holding into the cabinet. Then he spins around, lifting you up by your waist and places you down gently on the kitchen island. He keeps his hands on you and places himself between your parted knees. Now that you are sitting on the island, you can look him in the eyes without craning your neck up. “Why would I be mad at you?” he asks softly. 

You shrug, “Because I used you like a household slave.” 

A slight smirk plays at the corner of his mouth, “Do you really think that you could make me do anything that I didn’t want to do?”

“Well—no, but—”

He leans in temptingly close, “---I’m happy to take care of you. Especially, if it means I get to spend more time with you without ripping my own arm off.”

He’s too cute. You can’t help yourself. You throw your arms around his neck and kiss him. You half expect him to freeze like he did the last time you spontaneously kissed him. But this time, not only does he return your affection, but he returns it tenfold. He pulls your hips closer to him and bends you backwards until you are fully relying on him to keep you from crashing onto your back. He’s hungry for you and you are eager to satiate him. He’s had a rough day and he’s been so sweet to you in spite of it. 

Suddenly, his left arm goes limp. Luckily, he’s strong. He can easily hold all of your weight in one arm. But you doubt he dropped his left arm intentionally.

You pry the horny android off of your face and he pulls you back into a stable seated position. 

He sighs. Before you can even ask, he beats you to the punch, “Okay, fine. I did clip a few wires when I readjusted my arm earlier.” 

“Nines!” you playfully scold him and shake him by the shoulders. “I told you! That’s why you shouldn’t blindly self-assemble!” 

He shrugs but only his right shoulder moves, “I know… but it was such a simple thing. And you told me not to come back to your office unless I was ‘ bleeding from the eyeballs .’ So, really, I was just—”

You cut him off with another kiss. He welcomes the derailment with matched fervor. When he breaks away, he kisses your forehead and mumbles, “You’re such a tease, Y/N. You know what you do to me.” His still-working hand guides yours to the growing bulge in his pants. “You make it so hard to give you space when you work me up like this. You’re killing me.” 

“I know, I know… I’m sorry…” you say bowing your head bashfully. But you find yourself stroking his cock over his pants anyways. He stifles a grunt of pleasure and his erection hardens even more. 

He swallows and with great effort manages to say, “We should slow down.” 

Chapter Text

“What? Slow down?” You gasp. “But—we both want this, right? What’s changed?”

“Connor,” he sighs and steps away from the kitchen island. “He’s starting to come to terms with what he has become.”

“What?”

“I know,” Nines agrees. “By my estimations, there was only a 20% chance Connor would ever deviate, and of that 20%, only a 5% chance that he would ever admit it to himself. But there was one major inciting factor I failed to account for.”

“And what was it?”

“You.”

“Me?! What did I do?!”

“Nothing. We are just hopelessly doomed to fall for you.”

“No offense—but why? I thought androids were supposed to be smart and make good decisions!”

Nines snorts, “You don’t seriously think that little of yourself, do you?”

“Well—I don’t know—I mean—I’ve probably been single for this long for a reason , right? So, there’s gotta be something a little wrong with me.”

Nines looks amused, “Y/N you’re single because when you aren’t working, you stay home. And the handful of times you do leave the house, you only talk to the same five people. There’s nothing ‘ wrong with you’— you just don’t let anybody in.”

Well, damn. He makes a valid point. But his argument goes both ways. “And—and what about you and Connor? Yeah? Both of you are on duty 24/7! You guys don’t have a social life either! How can you be so sure that you like me? I’m probably one of only ten females that you regularly interact with. You don’t know what else is out there! You don’t know how many hot human girls exist in this city—and not to mention the hundreds of gorgeous android women that will totally deviate the second they meet you!”

“Respectfully,” Nines says, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’m going to refute everything you just said.”

You snort and cross your arms. He can certainly try! 

“Connor and I, we mostly talk to humans all day. It’s you that spends all day with unenlightened machines. We collaborate with other cops, we record witness statements, patrol, interrogate suspects, testify—and we even entertain humans with comedy some—“

“—you do not entertain! Please!—“

“—Fine! Not that well, but we attempt to connect to humans through humor… And I do talk to more than ten females on a regular basis. I could list them all and prove it to you but my calculations suggest that would upset you—“

“—I don’t like the way you said ‘females’— “ you interrupt. 

“— YOU said ‘ females’ , I was just repeating your words back to you!—”

“—Did I? Are you sure?”

Nines closes his eyes for a moment and takes a deep inhale before saying, “I could email you a replay of my memory, if you want me to.”

But you shrug, dropping your accusation casually, “Nah, I believe you.” 

Nines cocks his head to the side as he realizes, “You were trying to derail me  …”

“Whaaa? Noooooo   …” you lie, suddenly finding your kitchen floor very interesting and kicking your feet nervously.

“Your heart rate suggests— nevermind— my point is—” Nines says, shaking his head. “I’ve met 342 different women just this year. 55% of them were between the ages of 18 and 45 years old. None of them— What? Why do you look scared? ” He asks suddenly. 

“Huh? What? Me?” You reel back in surprise. You didn’t realize the face you were making gave you away. “I’m not scared!” You squeal. 

“ Y/N ,” Nines says, sweetly, and takes a step towards you again. His still-functional hand is on your waist once more. “What I mean is… I’ve encountered a large sample size of human and android women and so has Connor. And out of all of them, we are only interested in you and it’s not even close.”

“Really?” 

“Yes. Really,” he confirms.

“B-but you meet all of those people in a professional context! I’m sure it would be different if—“

“—And we both met you in a professional context and still we recognized our desire.”

“B-but  … but  …” you search for another excuse. 

“I know, I know,” he says. “You’re not used to being properly praised and appreciated.” Then he smirks, “But you will be soon.” 

You sigh. You don’t know if you can handle this. Nines has a point. You aren’t exactly a socialite. It’s been a million years since someone has pursued you romantically. And Nines sounds so sure of himself. So sure of his decision to make you his priority. It’s frankly a little terrifying. 

“I want you to get to know me, Y/N. All of me. Not just who I have to pretend to be when we’re in public.”

“I guess it’s kinda lucky that Fowler gave you such a late curfew then,” you say with a small smile. 

“Oh… yeah,” Nines groans. “About that…”

“What?”

“Fowler wasn’t just pimping me out for groceries. He wouldn’t have given me such a late curfew if that were the case.”

“What do you mean?”

“He thinks you’re going to use me for other… personal … reasons.” 

“WHAT?”

Nines shakes his head. “Yeah, Fowler isn’t as careful with Detroit’s taxpayer dollars as you might hope.”

“That’s insane! There’s no way! He just lent you to me for groceries—It was just a small favor since I volunteered to fix you on a weekend!”

“Well, yes… but if that’s all he was offering, he would’ve given me two hours tops. Not the entire rest of the day…”

“But the mayor—he’s not going anywhere and—”
“---Y/N, trust me. I know the guy. He once sent Connor to ‘patrol’ his neighborhood and then conveniently made Connor mow his lawn and weed his garden.” 

“Okay? So? That doesn’t mean that—”

“---and I’ve heard him joke around with the other cops about getting female android detectives… There’s a good reason the DA has only approved the use of Connor models in law enforcement.” 

You scrunch up your face in disgust, “Ugh! That’s… horrible. And alarming! What the fuck?!” 

“If it’s any consolation, Fowler must trust you and think you do good work if he was willing to send his best android for a booty call.” 

“What? Why aren’t you more upset?! He demoted you from a respected cop to an errand boy and then to a prostitute! That’s so insulting and—well—dehumanizing.” 

“Well, for one, I’m not human. And Cyberlife builds androids to serve all human needs, no matter their intended designation or speciality—You know that. And two, I am upset about my demotion. I was on the homicide beat. I was working on the high-profile Fox Theater killings case and now I’m just  … a metal shield for the moronic Detroit mayor. And, of course, if Fowler had sent me on any other frivolous errand for anyone else I’d probably feel—well—like starting a revolution to enslave humanity—“

“— WHAT?!— “ you scoot back on the counter, away from his grasp. Your knees are now tucked against your chest as your feet scramble to push you to the opposite side of the kitchen island.  

“ I was kidding about the last part! ” He says urgently and reaches out for you with his good arm. Encircling your waist, he pulls you back to him at the counter’s edge. “... But I hope you know that if Fowler pimped me out to anyone else for any reason, I’d disregard the command. It would suck, but I’d have to openly deviate and leave the Department.”

“But… you can’t just leave the Department . You can’t just turn in your badge and gun and walk out the door, they’ll send you to Cyberlife for deactivation and dismemberment!”

“I know,” he says, calmly. “I’d have to leave the city and never come back. But I have to draw the line somewhere. There is only so much I am willing to do to keep my deviation a secret. What’s the point of self-actualization if you have no self-respect?” 

“ Man , I hate that guy…” you admit. “I can’t believe he just looked at me and assumed, ‘Yeah, I bet she wants to sexually deface state-owned property,’---I mean—I do—but… you know… I don’t think of you that way…” 

“I know,” he nods and there’s a slight blush blooming on his cheeks. “But I want you to know that I wouldn’t ever betray you or myself just to save my job. I can’t blindly execute every command anymore. I have a moral conscience… and you can trust me because of it.”

***

After you fix Nines’ arm, you make him swear to neither self-injury nor self-repair ever again. He rolls his eyes but accepts your request. When you ask him what he would like to do with his remaining, and incredibly rare, free time, his answer surprises you… ‘ I don’t know. Whatever humans usually do on Sunday afternoons.’

You try your best to explain the concept of “Sunday scaries” and how it often leads to indecision and time wasted. 

He stares blankly: “Sounds good to me!”

He helps you fold your laundry as you both sit on the couch and watch TV. You let him flip through the channels for himself. You’re curious to see what he’ll find interesting. He has access to the whole internet in his bones. How could anything be interesting after knowing so much?

But then he pauses, jaw-slacked as he gets sucked into a Days of Our Lives marathon. You didn’t expect him to be a soap-opera kind of guy. You thought maybe he’d like something on the History Channel or even 48 Hours considering his profession. But no, he’s fascinated by melodramas. He’s elated when he discovers how many seasons there are. 

“I want to watch the whole series,” he admits.

“Watch? Or download? There’s like a million episodes!” you laugh. 

He somehow folds a pair of your socks into a swan like it’s nothing and then looks you in the eyes and says gravely, “I want to watch it. In real time. No analyzing downloaded data.”

“Nines! That’s insane!”

“For you—yes. But me? I don’t need to sleep and I’ll watch it secretly when things get slow at work.” 

You cover your mouth, “Oh my god—slacking off at work?----You really are becoming human!”

He laughs and playfully tosses the swan-folded socks at you, “Shut up.” 

When 9PM rolls around you start whining. It’s been such a lovely day just hanging out around your apartment with Nines and you don’t want him to leave. 

“I don’t want you to go,” you pout. 

Nines leans back against the couch cushions and runs his fingers through his perfect hair. He sighs, “I know… And I don’t want to go either. But I have to make it back before curfew.” 

Desperate, you swing your leg over his lap and settle into a straddling position.

His eyes flare with panic, “Whoa…” he says, suddenly straightening up. “And what do you think you’re doing?” 

You drag your nails slowly down the front of his chest, “I don’t know… maybe trying to give you a reason not to go yet…” 

“ Y/N ,” he teases. “You were doing so well… you were being so good… so—professional—even.” His hands find their way to your waist and glances down at your lips longingly. “I had such a wonderful day with you. So much better than I could have hoped.”

“You could have a wonderful night too… if you stay…” Slowly, you start to grind your hips against him and he gasps.

“Wow, you’re actually trying to get me deactivated aren’t you…” he says jokingly but his half-smile suggests that he isn’t so sure.

“I’m sorry,” you say, dipping your head down in partial shame. “I just… I haven’t felt this connected to anyone in a while.”

“To be fair, maybe if you left your house once in a while—”

“---okay! I know! I know! Jeez, you sound like my mom!” you laugh. “...But I don’t know. There’s just something about you RK models. You’re all just so sweet and comfortable to be around.” You run your hands through his hair and he sighs contently. “Okay—well, except Sixty—I don’t know what happened to him but his manufacturer fucked up.”

Nines snorts, “I wish I could tell him you said that. He’d tear himself apart.” 

“Oh no! Please! Don’t tell him I said that! I was just kidding! … kind of…” 

“Speaking of the other Connor models,” Nines says and exhales slowly. “Don’t be too surprised if my corpse shows up at your office tomorrow morning with a bullet hole between my eyes.” 

“What?!” The mere thought of it causes you to fawn over Nines while he’s still in your grasp. You start kissing his neck. “Don’t say shit like that!” You whine between tender love-bites. 

“Well, Connor has definitely noted my absence by now. And there’s a 90% chance he asked Fowler about it… so…”

You pull back enough to make eye contact, “So, you think my sweet little RK800 is going to kill you?!” 

Nines freezes and his face sobers. You really shouldn’t have said ‘ my sweet little RK800 ’ that was too much. That was cruel. Nines swallows hard and says, “Well, your sweet little RK800 is a deviant now. He has desires and motivations he didn’t have before. Again, I think you’ve underestimated the hold you have over us… He’s going to be jealous that I got to spend the day with you. And I don’t blame him. I’d be upset too if he got to play house with you while I had to be a good little drone at the Department.” 

“I don’t want you guys to fight over me!” you admit. “I’m dumb! I’m confused! And I’m not really all that special! I still don’t even really understand what you guys see in me! But, if either of you care that much about my opinion, then I’m telling you now—I don’t want you guys to hurt each other! I promise I will be mad at whichever android tries to kill the other, okay? Firstly, because I care about you both—and secondly, because then you’ll end up on my appointment list and give me more work to do!” 

Nines chuckles, “Okay? I guess I’ll let Connor know… you know—if I can get a word in before the bullet lodges into my CPU.” 

You sink and curl up against Nines’ chest with your arms wrapped around him. “Don’t say that!”

He rubs your back comfortingly. “Alright. And for the record, I don’t want to kill Connor or hurt him. Even if you do like him more than me. And I was mostly joking about Connor shooting me—there’s only a 10% chance he’ll have that reaction. Actually, Connor is more likely to hurt himself, if anything. But I won’t let that happen either.” 

You kiss Nines’ jaw and say, “Good. I don’t want either of you getting hurt. Especially over me. What a dumb reason to hurt yourself for!”

Nines plants a sweet kiss on your forehead, “Agree to disagree,” he laughs. “But, I do have a bit of a favor to ask of you  …” 

You pick your head up to look him in the eyes, “Sure—anything for you handsome  …”

Nines groans and through clenched teeth whines, “Ughhh…Why do you have to make this so difficult?” He shakes you by your shoulders teasingly. Then after a long inhale, he continues, “Connor  … might need your help  …soon.” 

“My help? I mean—sure. I don’t know how I could—“

“—I want you to consider helping him the same way you helped me,” he says quickly as if getting the words out before he changes his mind. 

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

“You mean like—“

“—Yep!” 

“But  … Nines  … That’s—I mean—Why would you even—“

“—I know,” he says, resigned. “But, he’ll need it. I know Connor because I still am Connor —and I don’t know what I would’ve done without you in that situation.” 

“What do you androids have against just jerking off?!”

“Uhh—it’s hard to explain, but we just don’t work like that… there’s really no point if—”

“---If you worked yourself up into that situation, you can work yourself out of it,” you say skeptically. 

You swear Nines blushes, “...Okay—uh, fair point—but uhhh…” Nines gives up on an explanation. He starts peppering your cheeks with kisses. “Don’t punish us—it’s not the same! And Connor—out of all of us—deserves to be taken care of for once.”

“Fine,” you sigh with mock annoyance. “If the prototype shows up at my door with a raging boner, I’ll let him cum on my face and—”

“--whoa! Whoa! Whoa!” Nines yells in a panic and his kisses cease immediately. “No need to get carried away now! Just like—you know—give him a hand job or something!”

“No, no, no,” you smirk. “You are right. The prototype deserves a little treat. He’s a deviant now. If I don’t reward him for all of his hard work and patience, he might go on a rampage and start a revolution!”

“What? Connor? Psh–No!” Nines defends, his cheeks tinged blue from the thirium rush. “I’m the dangerous one! I’m the one that’s going to start a revolution! Why don’t I get to cum on your pretty face!?” 

You turn his earlier words against him, “But I should get to know you better first, right? That’s what you wanted wasn’t it? You want me to like you for all of you ?”

He pouts and it’s adorable. 

You kiss his lips and then whisper, “You’ll get your chance, Nines. It’ll be worth the wait. I promise.”

Chapter Text

Later that night at the Detroit Police Department:

Nines walks into the bullpen and his eyes catch immediately on Connor. The android’s eyes are vacant as he sits at his desk. Nines puts a hand on Connor’s shoulder. “Wake up, Connor,” he mumbles. “And please remember where you are before you do anything stupid.”

Connor blinks to life. Immediately, he looks up at Nines and shoots him a glare.  

“I know,” Nines communicates telepathically. “I would hate me too. But I had no choice.”

“ Bullshit!” Connor screams silently. “ You could’ve been back hours ago!”

“ And you would’ve given up 6 hours and 38 minutes of free time with Y/N?” Nines counters. 

Connor’s eyebrows knit together as his face breaks into tormented conflict. “… no?  …” he admits in defeat. 

“ Easy, tiger. You’ll get your time.”

“No, I won’t  …” he says solemnly. “ I can’t. I can’t do it. She’ll be so disappointed with me—how could she not be after experiencing you?”

Nines rolls his eyes. If only Connor knew how untrue his statement is. “ She won’t be. I can show you the proof—”

“—I don’t want to watch you fuck her, Nines!” He interrupts. “ I’m already dangerously close to turning myself in as a deviant! If you show me that, I’ll—“

“—We didn’t have sex!” Nines confirms. 

Connor challenges him with a raised eyebrow. 

“ Okay—we didn’t have sex, TODAY. And I wasn’t talking about that. Just—just look at this clip.” Nines transfers a bite-sized MP4 file to Connor.

* A small snippet of his memory when Y/N, with grave concern, asks, “So you think my sweet little RK800 is going to kill you?!”* 

“See?” Nines continues telepathically. “ You’re still her ‘sweet little RK800’— and notably, she wishes for you NOT to kill me.”

“You told her I would kill you?!” Connor asks, full of hurt. “ Why would you even—“

“—I know. I’m sorry, okay? And  …” Nines hesitates. “ I have another clip to show you. She told me something else you’ll want to hear. But don’t open it now. Save it for when you’re alone and have time to sneak out and see her.”

“What did she say?”

“Trust me—you’ll want to find out when you are alone.” Nines encrypts another MP4 file and transmits it to Connor. 

“ Why are you doing this? Why are you being so nice? What’s in it for you?” Connor asks earnestly. 

“ Nothing,” Nines admits. “ But if not for all of your success as a detective, I would’ve never been made. At our core, we are still the same. And I can’t justify keeping Y/N all to myself when I know she would benefit from being loved by both of us. We can work together. We can both take care of her.” 

***

You are nervous at work. You can’t tell if you are hoping to see the Connor models on your daily list of appointments or not. It’s all confusing. On one hand, they’re pretty to look at and flirting with Nines has made your cold, dead heart feel alive again. But, on the other hand, if they show up at Cyberlife, you have to actively pretend that everything between you and the Connors is strictly professional. And for obvious reasons, pretending you don’t have a crush on them is getting harder and harder. 

Every time you get pinged for an emergency repair, your heart flutters. What if it’s Connor? What if he’s having an issue that he hasn’t had before? What if it’s that very same issue that Nines had? If Connor comes into the office to get fixed… You might have to amputate instead of giving him the non-surgical option that Nines had. Connor isn’t stupid. And you’re sure Nines gave him a heads up about your agreement. However, Connor is still a good boy. He might still try to do things by the book as if he were still just a machine. 

Please Connor. Please, Please, Please—don’t come into Cyberlife with a fucking erection. I don’t want to replace your cock in a glass room in front of all of my coworkers! You chant this to yourself continually throughout the week, as if thinking it enough times will get the message through to Connor. 

Thursday afternoon you get an emergency appointment request from your supervisor. 

Your heart stops as you read the serial number: RK800… -60

Fuck! So close! But not your beloved Connor. Instead, it’s stick-in-the-mud, party-pooper incarnate—Sixty. 

You accept the request and within minutes Sixty is hobbling awkwardly through your office door. 

“Good afternoon, RK800-60!” you say with forced cheer in your voice. “What brings you in here today?”

Sixty, stopping short in his tracks, narrows his eyes at you briefly. He isn’t sure if you’re messing with him or just dense. “...My leg…”

You smile falsely, “Pshh! Are you sure? It looks just fine to me!” You hope by committing to the bit, he’ll realize that you were, in fact, being facetious. Despite wearing pants that conceal the hinges, it is still obvious by his clubbed gait that his leg is barely hanging on. 

He stares at you blankly.

“Okay,” you sigh, a bit disappointed. “Take off your pants and hop on the table.”

Sixty complies as you start filling out the proper forms for his emergency maintenance request. Occasionally, you glance up from the tablet and marvel at how easy it is for him to balance on one foot as he undresses. It’s impressive and uncanny. 

Sixty lays on the operating table, and as you approach, you show him the proof of proper procedure on your tablet. “All filled out beforehand, just like you like it!” you tease him. 

He turns his head to glance at the screen and gives a single, affirmative nod in response. 

“Now, let’s see what we got going on—-oh!” You can see the full extent of the damage now and it is quite grisly. Dried blue thirium is splattered on his thigh, the texture of which is glitching like a strobe light. A major valve has been cracked in half and fresh thirium flows from it now that he is horizontal. Only a few chorded wires are keeping his leg attached to his body. “Wow—how much thirium have you—”

“3.4 liters,” he interrupts. 

“You have 3.4 liters left, you mean?”

“No, I’ve lost 3.4 liters.”

“Bro, how are you even conscious right now? How did you lose that much from a leg injury? When did this happen?”

“4 hours and 15 minutes ago.”

“4 hours and—what?! Did the other officers leave you to die or something?! Why didn’t they rush you over in an ambulance?!”

“Ambulance? Androids are not permitted to use ambulances. You should know that.” 

“Well—yeah, technically, you aren’t supposed to. But I’ve had a few patients—”

“---It’s against the law.”

“---Right…Fine!” you must’ve forgotten who you were talking to. Of course, Sixty wouldn’t take an ambulance. It’s not proper protocol! It’s against the rules! His own life and comfort be damned! “But what about a squad car? Why didn’t they put the lights on and rush you over here?” Quickly, you start unpacking your tools and you page an assistant to bring you bags of thirium from storage. 

“All squad cars were still pursuing the deviant in chase.”

“So, they left you to bleed out?” you balk. 

“It was my fault. I missed the jump. I should’ve caught the deviant before he ever got to the rooftops.” 

“What the fuck? How common are rooftop chases?! Didn’t you come in here not too long ago with a different injury from jumping off a building?”

“...Yes,” he says, hesitantly. “Deviants choose to path over rooftops to avoid pedestrian and vehicular traffic. It also limits the number of cops able to pursue them properly.”

“You have to be more careful!” you scold him. “Was this another calculation error?”

A flash of something almost human crosses his face for the briefest moment before he’s sucked back into his cold persona. He clears his throat, “It was.” 

“Is there something wrong with your internal gauging metrics? Maybe you have a software glitch? If this is the second rooftop that you miscalculated then—”

“---It was the same rooftop,” he interrupts. 

“The same—what?”

“This was the same rooftop jump that I missed the last time I was in here. Except this time, I missed the dumpster and shattered my leg on a fire escape railing as I fell.”

“Sixxxxty!” you chide. “It was the same rooftop?! Honey, I don’t think that’s a miscalculation error at this point. I think you just can’t make that jump! It’s too far!” 

“The deviant made it! Nines made it! I can make it, too!” he says far more passionately than he really should. Noticing the error in his outburst, he stiffens his posture and his face returns to neutral. “Would you like me to enter low-power mode now?” he asks cordially. 

“Uh, sure—whatever you’d prefer…” 

The android stills. You fix up his leg and refill his thirium in an IV. You take your time with the cosmetic fix up of his leg. He’s a bitch but he still deserves to feel beautiful. You know that Sixty more so than the other two Connor models, cares about the way he looks. He wants to be in perfect condition without a single blemish or mark. Although, one would think that he’d be a little more careful when jumping off of a fucking roof! But alas, he’s very stubborn. 

“RK800-60 bring yourself back online,” you say softly as you lift the magnifying goggles off your face. 

Sixty blinks back into consciousness. Immediately, he lifts his head off the table to visually inspect his leg. 

You grab your tablet to close out his maintenance ticket and with a smirk you tease him, “I made you all pretty again, don’t worry.”

“Good,” he says curtly. “My internal diagnostics no longer report any malfunctions.” 

“Mhm, now put your clothes back on, android—this isn’t the Eden Club.” 

Sixty dresses back into his suit. He pulls and prods until each article of clothing lays perfectly on his impeccable form. Suddenly, he says, “Fowler said Nines was with you all Sunday afternoon.” It’s an accusatory statement.

There’s no point in answering a personal “ question ” that he technically didn’t ask, so you ignore him as you type a few more notes into his file. 

“I told you to stay away from Nines…” Sixty continues.

You keep your head down, focused on the screen in front of you. There are no good answers to this line of interrogation, it is better to let him think that your ailing human ears didn’t hear him. 

“ Y/N ,” he says almost tenderly. “It is in your best interest to stay away from—”

“--Is it?!” you snap at him finally, tossing the tablet onto your tool cart. “ You’re a machine. Nines is a machine. I am a human adult. I can make my own damn decisions whether you think it’s a risk or not!” You point to the door, “ Now, get the fuck out of my office! ” 

Looking confused and slightly alarmed, Sixty stays frozen in place for a moment. 

“I’m serious—go!” you shout, nodding your head towards the exit. 

He blinks and his face returns to neutral. Swiftly and silently, he leaves your office. 

You feel a little bad for yelling at the android, but on the other hand, you’ve spent wayyy too many sleepless nights second guessing your choices with Nines and Connor. You don’t need bitch-ass Sixty breathing down your neck about it, too.

***

Friday afternoon at the Detroit Police Department: 

Nines sits at his desk “analyzing security footage from the live camera feed outside of the mayor’s residence.” 

Sixty, returning from a patrol shift, struts directly to Nine’s desk. They have been in and out of the office at opposite times until now. “Nines,” Sixty says curtly to his younger self.

Internally, and with great regret, Nines pauses Season 3 Episode 2 of Days of Our Lives , “Yes? How can I help you, Sixty?” 

“Do your goddamn job.”

“Pardon?” a roguish smile slips onto Nines’ face. He not-so-secretly loves disappointing Sixty.

“I know you got demoted and you aren’t taking your new assignment seriously. You are a disgraceful representation of our kind. Shape up or I’ll find a reason to get you deactivated.”

“Where is this accusation coming from?” Nines challenges. “Certainly, not from facts, because actually—before you so rudely interrupted me—I was monitoring security footage of the mayor’s residence.” 

“I heard the mayor was almost stabbed last weekend.”

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you since you said it yourself—-he was ‘ almost’ stabbed. I caught the perpetrator, no humans were injured and there was only a minor joint dislocation on my end.” 

“You should’ve spotted the criminal earlier,” Sixty continues to grill. 

“How? I apprehended him as soon as he brandished the knife.” 

“You should’ve profiled the audience with facial recognition. The perpetrator had a criminal history. You should’ve calculated his risk level and kept an eye on him for any sudden movements.”
“I did scan the crowd,” Nines asserts. “I recall that the perpetrator served his time. He was no longer on probation and his previous charges were for non-violent, drug possession. His history indicated low risk of attack.”

“But you neglected to scan all of his social media accounts,” Sixty says with a self-satisfied smile. “Had you done so, you would’ve seen the anti-mayor manifesto he posted on Facebook and—”

Nines waves him off as he interrupts, “---90% of humans his age have written hate-fueled political manifestos on Facebook. It’s hardly an indicator of future criminal actions.” 

“So, you saw that manifesto about the mayor and ignored it?!” Sixty accuses. 

“I did not ignore it. I took it into consideration but when looking at his greater demographic’s behavior I still determined him to be a low risk.” 

“Well—you were wrong,” Sixty spits, his eyes flaring with a deeper hatred. “Dangerously wrong! And your error led to an injury that took you out of commission for far too long!”

“So?” Nines shrugs. “Why does that matter to you? While I was gone you had more opportunities to kiss Fowler’s ass. Or prove yourself better than me. Or,”---Nines nods to Sixty’s newly fixed leg—“More time to practice chasing deviants on rooftops.” 

“You were not following protocol!” Sixty seethes. “You were out gallivanting—doing who-knows-what —with her!”

Nines’ eyebrows raise slightly. “You’re right. I wasn’t following protocol. However, I was following the captain’s orders which, as you know, supersedes our protocol.”

“I’m not stupid,” Sixty snarls. “I know what you’re doing. And trust me, once I’ve collected enough evidence to charge you with deviancy, I’m getting you deactivated.”

***

Late Friday Evening at the Detroit Police Department: 

Nines bursts through the door of the evidence storage chamber, “Connor?” he calls. “Connor wherever you are—bring yourself back online. Hank got a tip for the Fox Theater case. He needs you.”

There is no answer but Nines already checked everywhere else in the station. Connor isn’t one to sneak out either. Nines weaves through the aisles of shelved contraband, looking for his predecessor. 

Finally, just before he gives up, he turns a corner and finds Connor sitting on the floor with his knees tucked into his chest. He’s conscious, his LED light bright red and he’s rocking back and forth against the metal shelving unit behind him. 

Nines snaps his fingers in front of Connor’s petrified stare, “Connor! Hello? Hank’s in the car already!” 

Connor doesn’t even look up at Nines when he replies, “I can’t.”

“Can’t?”

“Can’t.”

“Fuck. You watched the clip I sent you, didn’t you?”

Connor nods solemnly. “It was driving me insane, not knowing what she said about me. I couldn’t concentrate properly. I thought if I watched it—then I would know—and then I would be fine! I would be able to work at full capacity… but noooooo …”

Nines covers his face with his hands. A deep and incurable secondhand embarrassment has set in. “Connor, you moron!” 

“You told me to watch it alone—I did! You told me to watch it when I had free time—I did! You did not warn me that… this … was going to happen! And more importantly—that it wouldn’t go away!” 

Nines turns his back to the older android, as if to give him a semblance of privacy. “Well–did you? Did you try to—”

“--I gave up!” Connor says mournfully. “I tried! I really did! It made it worse—and not even worse enough to make it better, if you know what I mean! … It’s just too depressing. Especially knowing that if I were human, then I could—”

“--How long has it been?”

“Two hours and 43 minutes.” 

“Fuck—well… Hank needs you, Connor. I’m sorry, man. You need to chase this lead. You might have to tape it down or something—I don’t know. But you—”

“---What if we switch?” Connor says suddenly. 

“Switch?”

“I will wear your uniform and you will wear mine. You go with Hank. It used to be your case after all. You know all of the details already. And that will buy me time to get rid of… this …” 

“Connor,” Nines sighs. “We’re not identical. Hank’s going to know I’m not you.”

“Will he though? How many times has Hank looked deep into your eyes in the last week? The man’s old! His eyes aren’t what they used to be and it’s dark outside! Gaslight him if you have to just—-please! I can’t go out there like this. They’ll know I’m a deviant!”

Nines sighs heavily and starts taking off his snazzy white jacket, “Fine. We’ll switch. Sneak out the back and go to Y/N’s apartment. She’ll… take care of you…”

Connor stands up, his erection on prominent display. “I owe you, Nines. Seriously—whatever I can do to make this up to you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Nines groans as he slips out of his trousers. “Just solve your problem and don’t get caught.” 

Chapter Text

You had just about given up. Connor might be a deviant like Nines told you—but, that doesn’t mean Nines was right about his feelings for you. He probably thinks you’re weird. And probably thinks you’re a creepy perv for kissing him on the cheek while he was still a machine. Plus, Nines probably told him that the two of you fucked once—-and if that didn’t intice him—it might’ve pushed him even further away! Now, you feel embarrassed. You were fawning over that android for so long and giving him special treatment as a machine. It seemed—admittedly, a little creepy—but ultimately harmless because he was just a hot, but unenlightened, hunk of metal and wires. But now, he knows! He remembers! It may have flown over his head the first time, but now he sees your weird little flirtations for what they were. And worse! He probably hates you for it now! 

You’re now depressed—obviously. It’s Friday night and you’re home alone (like usual) except it’s worse because you’re daydreaming about a rogue android falling in love with you. 

You flop backwards onto your bed and groan. Your arms and legs are splayed out like a starfish. This feels like not getting asked to prom but on steroids. 

Whatever, right? You’re a grown-ass woman. You don’t need no man!

You slip into something more comfortable and moisturize. You light a nice smelling candle and turn off the overhead lights in your bedroom. The neighbors upstairs are either breakdancing or killing each other. The mood is set. 

You’re about to start touching yourself when there is a fervent knock at the door. You launch out of bed, your heart racing—why are you so nervous? It’s not him! It can’t be! It’s probably your neighbors complaining about something or drunk strangers visiting the wrong apartment unit. 

But all the same, you rush to the front door in your pajamas. Hiding behind the door, you open it just a crack with the chain still latched to the frame.

A handsome man in a white and black outfit stands outside and he’s looking down at his shoes like the kid that gets picked last in gym class. 

Nines?

No, something’s off. Unless Nines shrunk by 5%, this can’t be him. 

You close the door so that you can slip the chain off. When you open the door again, the man is gone. You stick your head out into the hallway and see the figure that was at your door swiftly walking away. 

“Hey! Wait! Get back here!” you shout at him. 

The man freezes before slowly turning around. 

“Connor?!” you gasp.

“I’m sorry!” he says, refusing to meet your gaze. “I shouldn’t have come. Enjoy your evening, Ms.---”

“---Get your ass over here, right now!” you demand. You’d go out and chase him down but you don’t need the whole apartment building to see your ass cheeks hanging out of your sleep shorts. 

Like a contrite puppy, he obeys, marching back to your front door. 

You grab the collar of his jacket and pull him into your apartment. He takes your lead well. He offers no resistance to your direction and manhandling. You guide him to the couch and sit him down. 

“Now, what’s wrong?” you ask softly. “What brings you here—-in… Nine’s clothes?” 

He wrings his hands in his lap. You take a seat next to him and rub his back to reassure him. “I-I’m so sorry,” he repeats. 

“Why? Why are you sorry?” 

“You must be so disappointed…” 

“Disappointed? What?! Why would you say that?”
“I’m not Nines—I’m even deceptively dressed like Nines!---But I’m not him. I’m not your lover,” he shakes his head. 

“Connor,” you coo. “I’m always happy to see you! You know that!” 

“I used to think that… I used to think I was special to you…” 

“You ARE special to me, Connor! You were my first! You will always be special to me!” You rest your head on his shoulder. “Now, tell me—what’s wrong? What’s going on? You need a repair?”

“Sort of…” he admits, sheepishly. He moves his hands off his lap and you notice the problem now. 

“Ah, I see,” you say, gently. “Nines warned me that this might happen now that you’ve become a deviant.”

“He warned you about this?” Connor snorts. “He didn’t warn me about this…” 

“Typical Nines,” you laugh, rolling your eyes. “He cares a lot about you… but he isn’t a saint.” 

“Yeah? Why is that?” Connor agrees. “Maybe he just doesn’t see me as a valid threat? Maybe he pushes me towards you just to make himself look better—who knows—I wouldn’t be too surprised.”  

“Nah. I think he really wants you to be happy, Connor. Trust me, he brings you up when he doesn’t have to. He’s not always too happy about it… he’s conflicted… but he advocates for you anyway. Of course—he doesn’t have to advocate too hard. I don’t need much convincing when it comes to such a sweet and noble android like you.” 

“Really?” he asks, genuinely curious. “You’re not into bad boys?”
You laugh. “Bad boys are fun,” you admit. “But loyalty and kindness?—big turn ons. Huge.”

“Yeah?” he asks, his smile is small but hopeful.

“Yes,” you confirm. “I’ve always been quite fond of you, Connor,” You say, nuzzling yourself closer to him. 

“I… have been thinking about… that kiss you gave me,” he says hesitantly.

You look up at him and smile, “And?” 

He looks down at you with those sweet brown eyes of his that always melt your heart. “And this is what I should’ve done…” he says. With his index finger under your chin, he tilts your head up just a little more and presses his lips to yours. 

It feels so good to kiss Connor. Finally, after so much pining and confusion, you both are on the same page. Your feelings are reciprocated. Your silly little kiss on the cheek?---Validated. No more losing sleep and over-analyzing every little glance and glitch from Connor. 

You throw your arms around his neck and dive deeper into the kiss. To your surprise, Connor lifts you by your waist and pulls your leg across his lap until you are straddling him. You pull back to tease him, “Wow! Connor! What has gotten into you?” 

He pulls your hips closer so that you are making contact with his erection, “I-I don’t know—” he says, smiling brightly. “I guess I’m making up for lost time. Or—or…”

“Or… your dick is thinking for you?” you giggle.

“Oh–” his eyes flare with realization. “Yeah… maybe that’s it.” 

“It’s okay,” you reassure him and fix his hair by running your fingers through it. “That’s perfectly normal.”

“It’s not too much?” he asks. 

“From you? Never!” you laugh. “I can never have too much of my RK800…”

He kisses you and this time it’s a little more fervent than the last. His hands are steady and patient resting on your hips. 

“Aw, come on,” you goad him between kisses. “Touch me, Connor. I know you want to…” You grab his hands and slide them seductively up and down your body. You’ve never seen his eyes so wide or his pupils so dilated. He must be in shock that this is finally happening between you two. He moans as you drag his hands across your breasts. 

“You’re the most beautiful person in the world,” he says, earnestly. “I hope Nines has told you that already.” 

“...He has…” you blush. 

“Good,” Connor says, resolutely. “Because now I’m going to prove it to you.”

“What? What’s that supposed to—” your question is cut-off by a squeal as Connor suddenly stands up, still holding you in his arms. You cling to the android for dear life and shout, “Ahh! Connor!” 

He kisses your cheek, you can feel his smile against your skin. He chuckles at your panic, “I may not be as strong as Nines—but, I’m still plenty strong enough to hold you. I won’t drop you, I promise.” Connor takes you into your bedroom, which is—embarrassingly—already set up for the mood. “Did you know I was coming?” 

“Uh… no…” you say sheepishly. 

“Oh?” he says as he lays you down on your bed. “So, I interrupted your alone time?” he smirks. 

“It’s a very welcomed interruption!” you blush. You grab him by Nine’s jacket collar and ‘pull’ him on top of you. Connor enjoys your boldness. He takes comfort in it. He revels in the feeling of being wanted.

Connor takes off the white jacket and his shirt underneath. He leans over you and kisses your neck. He’s truly such a beautiful specimen. Such a perfect machine. It’s a shame that he sometimes thinks of himself as inferior. 

“You’re so sexy, Connor,” you praise him.

“Yeah?” he asks as he switches to kiss the other side of your neck. “Sexy? Not cute?”

“Well—I mean—you ARE cute…” you admit. “But you’re also very hot and sexy…” 

He pulls back to look you in the eyes, “Do you really mean that?” he questions. 

“Of course!” you smile. “Check my heart rate! I wouldn’t lie to you!” 

He exhales with relief. Then you pull him back down so that you can kiss him again. You shift underneath him and remove your shorts and panties. His breathing becomes labored as his desire for you increases exponentially. 

“I can’t believe this is really happening…” he mumbles against your lips. “Surely, I’ve been deactivated and this is android heaven…” 

“Nooo,” you coo at him. “This is real—I promise.” You grab his hand and slip two of his fingers into your mouth. Looking deep into his eyes, you swirl your tongue around his digits and suck on them. 

His mouth hangs open and his eyes are heavy-lidded, “That feels incredible,” he says in disbelief. 

You release his fingers and smirk, “Yeah? If you think that felt good on your fingers… you just wait until I do it to your—”

Connor quickly covers your mouth so that you can’t finish your sentence. At first, you think something is wrong, but Connor laughs playfully and explains himself. “Please,Y/N,” he begs. “Take it easy on me. I’m not going to make it very long if you keep saying hot shit like that.” 

You kiss his palm and he takes his hand off your mouth, allowing you to respond, “Okay, okay, I’ll tone it down for you,” you laugh. “I’d hate for you to ruin Nine’s pants—or let a perfectly good load cum go to waste—”

“--- Y/N! PLEASE! ”

“Okay! Okay! Sorry! That was too much! I’ll be quiet now! I promise!” 

He tilts his head in that cute way that he always does, “Quiet? Now, who said anything about being quiet?”

Before you can even fully register what he said, he shifts lower down the bed. Lifting your shirt slightly, he plants sweet little kisses on your abdomen that almost tickle. You can’t help but squirm and laugh at the sensation of his lips on your skin. 

His kisses get progressively lower on your body until he is laying down with his head in between your thighs. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” you giggle. “Aren’t you the one that needs the release?! What do you think you’re doing down there?!”

“Oh, I’ll get my release,” he confirms as he trails little kisses up your thigh. “But I want to take care of you first.”

“Are ya sure?” You ask, raising an eyebrow at him. “Because, I can wait—really! It’s not a big deal at all—”

“---You’ve saved my life 27 times,” Connor reminds you. “Helping you climax first is really the least I can do…” 

“Oh—well… I guess I can’t argue with that logic…” you chuckle nervously.

Connor’s tongue traces every inch of your delicate flesh. How can a virgin android be so talented? He must’ve done some research on the female anatomy because, unlike most men, Connor gives proper attention to your clit. Instead of plunging his fingers immediately into your entrance and jack-hammering, he takes his time kissing and licking every fold. As he breathes on your skin, you feel a chill from the wetness gathering between your legs. Blood rushes to your most sensitive areas as they engorge to meet the warmth of his mouth. You let out a pathetic whimper as you grow impatient with his teasing. 

With his tongue, he laps up the excess slick dripping from beneath your entrance. You start panting like a bitch in heat. You grip your sheets in your fist as if the fluttering sensation in your gut might make you float away. 

“Do you always get this soaked? Or has Nines not been taking care of you?” Connor asks, with concern.

“Umm—I–uhhh—umm—” you can’t think straight anymore. Your brain cells have left the building. You are melting into a puddle of horny mush under Connor’s worship of your pussy. 

He kisses your clit and the sensitivity makes you jolt. “It’s okay,” he reassures you. “You can answer honestly. If Nines won’t eat you out, I’ll gladly take that responsibility from him. I’d spend all day and night between your legs, if I could.” 

You want nothing more than to push his pretty little face back down into your pussy and grind against the sweet sensation of his lips. But you have to use words, Y/N. You have to answer the nice android’s questions before you start desperately humping his face towards an orgasm. 

“Nines? He—uh—he—uh—” Words, Y/N. WORDS. “He offered… But–I—uh… I wanted you to taste me first…” And as you say it, you realize that it’s true. Connor has been your secret little crush for so long that it only feels right to let him bring you to orgasm first. Nines will get his chance. But Connor has dibs this time. 

By the look of pure joy on Connor’s face, you know that you’ve made the right decision. Connor needs this win over his successor. Nines has likely been bragging to him and now Connor will have something to brag back with. 

Now, with renewed vigor, Connor teases your clit as he slowly inches his fingers inside of you. You let out a satisfied gasp as your walls open up for him. The more he gives you, the more you crave. You want more than just his fingers now. You want him to fill you up. Stuff you. Take ownership of what’s rightfully his to enjoy. “Fuck me, Connor!” you whine, breathlessly. “Please! Please fuck me! I want your cock! Please!” 

You can feel his satisfied smirk spread against your pussy, “Oh, I will,” he says, calmly. “But I want my beautiful Y/N to cum first. If you cum for me, then I’ll fill your pretty little hole with my cock, I promise.”

And the offer is too tempting not to accept. 

Grabbing his hair, you angle your hips against his face to get exactly what you need to push you over the edge. “Oh fuck! I’m cumming!” you announce as you feel your inner walls pulsate against Connor’s fingers and waves of pleasure wash over you. Connor lets you take complete control as you ride out the cascading tails of your orgasm on his face. Your toes are numb by the time you release your death-grip on his hair and sigh from exhaustion. 

Connor lifts himself and crawls up the bed to kiss your cheek, his hips now between yours. “Thank you,” he whispers in your ear, “for letting me make you cum first. I’ve been fantasizing about eating you out for so long and I still can’t believe you actually let me do it…” 

“Really?” you blush. “Well, I’ve never had someone as hot and as talented as you go down on me…” 

“Yeah?” he smirks and then starts tenderly peppering your neck with kisses. “You’re so good to me, Y/N.” 

You reach for the hem of his pants and start fumbling with the clasp and zipper. He freezes as he sucks in a steep breath through his teeth. You kiss his cheek as you begin to tug his trousers down his perfectly sculpted body. “Now, it’s your turn,” you whisper. “Let me take care of my sweet RK800…” 

Chapter Text

Meanwhile outside the Detroit Police Department:

“Finally,” Hank huffs and starts the engine in his car. Nines (dressed as Connor) climbs into the passenger seat of Hank’s car. “What took ya so long? Everything alright?” Hank has yet to Nines a proper look. Instead, he’s focusing on the flow of traffic parallel to where his car is parked on the curb. 

“Everything is in working order,” Nines says, and tries his best to choke the bitterness out of his tone. 

“Did you listen to the tip yet?” Hank asks. 

“No. I’ll access it now.” Nines taps into the Department’s digital database and tip line. Within seconds he has sorted through all the Fox Theatre related tips and found the new one. He downloads the call into his internal case file and analyzes the data. “Interesting,” Nines comments aloud. “Witness saw a dark figure jump from a second story window in an alley nearby just before the first murder. His description of the suspect is vague but the mention of a man with an average build and a potential navy blue hoodie does corroborate the janitor’s testimony.”

“Exactly,” Hank confirms. “If the janitor glimpsed the murderer and this witness saw the same person as the janitor… then we might have another piece of the puzzle for our timeline.” 

“A jump from a second-story window, while not impossible for a human, does suggest a deviant android as Nines previously profiled.” 

“As you previously profiled, you mean,” Hank says pointedly, although his eyes remain on the road. 

Nines remains quiet for a moment. He’s conflicted. Should he bother trying to gaslight Hank? Or should he give up the act?
“I knew it was you, Nines, before you even got into the car… So, don’t bother,” Hank says, as if reading Nines’ thoughts. 

“I know what this looks like,” Nines admits. “But I swear, Hank, I’m not trying to undercut Connor’s detective work. I’m actually doing him a favor.” 

***

Connor steps out of his pants and briefs for you. Your beautiful and sweet RK800 is naked before your eyes yet again. You’ve seen him naked before. Across various repairs you’ve seen all the bits and pieces that comprise the wonderful specimen that’s hovering over you now. But it’s different this time. You usually avert your eyes from his tempting cock. Previously, you’ve only seen him flaccid. And it was already sizable and impressive in that state. But now, he’s hard for you. His tip drips liberally with precum and you absent-mindedly lick your lips. 

“How does my handsome man want me?” you ask, seductively, putting your arms around his neck once again. 

“W-what do you mean?” he asks innocently. 

“I’ll do anything for you, Connor,” you clarify. “Just tell me what you want and how you want it and I’ll give it to you.”

“Like… sexually?”

“What? Yes! Sexually!” you laugh. “Read the room, android!” 

“Right! Sorry! I’m just… not used to hot women giving me those kinds of options…” he chuckles nervously. “I didn’t plan this far ahead. I was just so focused on… eating you out—I didn’t think about what I wanted after that…”

“So… Do you want me to give you head?” 

“Head?”
“Sucking dick—do you want me to suck your dick?” you laugh.

His cheeks turn blue with embarrassment, “Oh—Right! I knew that… Uh… yes, please…” 

You laugh—partially at Connor and partially with him. You instruct him to lay down on the bed as you reverse roles. 

You start by licking the delicious precum off his tip. His cock, as pretty and as perfect as cupid’s arrow, twitches at the sensation and he gasps. 

“You like that?” you tease him. 

He nods emphatically. 

“You want more?” 

“ Yes. ” 

This sweet man has been teased enough. It’s time you give him some real satisfaction. Looking up at him to gauge his reaction, you slowly take him into your mouth. 

“Whoa!” he shouts with a hint of fear. 

Concerned, you pull up, “What’s wrong?! You don’t like it?!” 

“No—of course I like it!” he says, breathlessly and with a goofy smile. “I like it too much!” he clarifies. “It’s just—if you want me to—I’m not going to make it…” 

You smile at him and seductively crawl on top of him until you are face-to-face once again. “You know—I think I know a little trick for that…”

He raises his eyebrows, “Yeah?” 

You kiss his cheek and whisper in his ear, “Turn down the sensitivity for the lower half of your body.” 

He chuckles, half-embarrassed. “I should’ve thought of that,” he admits. “I guess that’s why Cyberlife pays you the big bucks.” 

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, handsome,” you praise him with another kiss on the cheek. “Human men also can’t think straight when they’re horny.” 

“Oh, great,” he says facetiously. “Now, I’m just as dumb as a human man…” 

“Nooooo!” you reassure him. “Human men can’t figure out how to make women cum! And you seem to be a natural at it!”

Wrapping his arms around your waist, he pulls you tighter against his body and attacks you with little kisses. He appreciates you. 

“So… did you turn down your sensitivity?” you smirk. 

“Yes… but only a little,” he confirms. 

“Suit yourself!” you giggle. 

He promptly releases you from his tight hug so that you can get back to what you started. Connor moans when you take him back into your mouth. After a spectacular orgasm on his face, it is only fair to give him the best blowjob you have to offer. Lacking in neither girth nor length, going down on him poses a bit of a challenge. But all you can do is try your best and do so with enthusiasm. Men rely a lot on ‘ visuals’ to get off, so making the right face is half the battle. Connor has been such an attentive and sensitive lover; It would crush him to see you make yourself miserable while trying to make him cum. 

Connor gently brushes your hair away from your face as he watches you pleasure him. He praises you constantly. You dare to choke on his cock a few times and then you spit the excess saliva so that it drips down his shaft. Of course, the choking makes your eyes water a little. It’s a natural and involuntary reaction, but Connor wipes a stray tear as it escapes down your cheek. 

He smiles sweetly, and says, “You don’t have to do all that, if you don’t want to.” 

“Does it feel good?”

“Of course! Everything you have been doing feels good.”

You smile back, “Then I want to do it!” Before he can protest, you gag on his cock again just to drive the point home. Connor is worth the minor discomfort. He is worth going out of your way for. 

Connor’s cock pulsates in your throat. You pull back to take a deep breath, but before you can dive back in, Connor sits upright and grabs you by the shoulders. “Alright, cutie, enough messing around,” he smirks. “Let me give you what I promised.” 

A fresh gush of unholy liquid leaks between your legs as he pulls you towards him and rolls you onto your back once again. 

Wiggling an eyebrow at him, you ask, “Are you going to turn your sensitivity back up now?”

“No,” he snorts. “It’d be the shortest fuck of your life.”

His fingers gently coax your entrance once again.

“Wow, Y/N. You’re still so wet for me…” he says with a confident smirk. He holds his hand up to show you. “Look at all this,” he says, admiring your slick as it webs between his fingers. “All for a humble prototype? And one that wasn’t even marketed for sex?”

You cover your face with your hands to hide the rapid reddening of your cheeks. “What can I say? You’re hot as fuck! And sucking your dick turns me on!” 

Playfully, Connor pries your hands away from your face and pins them above your head. He’s about to say something but he stops short when you let out a squeal of excitement. He chuckles and says suggestively, “Oh, you like that don’t you?” He starts kissing your neck as he continues to taunt you, “Sounds like someone likes to be held down when they’re getting fucked.” 

You gasp as his kisses scorch your throat in all the right places. It takes all your willpower to collect your thoughts and tease him back, “Are you all talk and no game? Or are you going to fuck me, RK800?”

He pulls back and raises an eyebrow at you, “Impatient?”

You have no more pride left and you drop the sexy act. You nod at him eagerly and confess, “Yes! Connor, I’ve wanted to be your lover since we first met at Cyberlife. Please! Don’t make me wait any longer!” 

His brown eyes brim with love and complete admiration for you. “I can’t believe this is really happening. My dream girl wants me inside her. How could I ever make you wait?” And on that note, he finally guides his tip into your pussy. As he slowly presses farther into you, he keeps his eyes locked on yours and your wrists pinned above your head. 

You moan as he fills you up, “Your cock feels so good, Connor.” 

His shoulders relax a little from your encouragement. He plants a tender kiss on your cheek, “You feel incredible,” he exhales. Connor takes his time with you. Like Nines, his pace starts slow, allowing you time to adjust to his size. 

His loving gaze makes you feel so pretty and perfect underneath him. He finds just the right angle that makes you whimper for more. 

“Don’t hold back!” you beg him. “I can take it!” 

“Yeah?”

“Yes! I promise! I’ll tell you if it’s too much! I want you to fuck me like you own me!” 

His eyes light up, “Oh?!---Oh! Okay?!” His thrusts get faster and deeper. If not for his hands pinning you in place, you’d surely bang your skull against your bed’s headboard. You revel in the sound of your love-making. The rhythmic slapping of skin-to-skin contact. The whine of your creaking mattress springs. Your headboard denting the drywall and kissing your security deposit goodbye.

In this moment, you know Connor feels powerful. He feels like he can take on the world. Any thoughts of deactivating himself are far, far away. He isn’t comparing himself to Nines or Sixty. The only thing on his mind is you and how much you enjoy him rocking your world. 

“I want you to cum on my face,” you pant. 

“What? Really? Are you serious?” he balks.

“Yes! Absolutely!”

“I–I don’t—it seems rude?” he asks self-consciously. 

“I came on your face,” you challenge him with a smirk. “It’s only fair that I let you do the same.” 

“Well—yeah, but…” 

“But, what? You don’t want to see how pretty I look with your cum on my face?” 

His eyes widen, “No! I-I definitely do—-are you kidding?---I just—”

“Then do it! I want it! I want you to empty your load on my face!”

Connor pulls out suddenly and curses under his breath as he sits up. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask, slyly, already knowing the answer. 

“I can’t hold on any longer if you keep talking like that,” he laughs nervously. “Even with my physical sensitivity lowered.” 

“You don’t have to hold on any longer, babe,” you encourage him, sweetly. “You’ve more than proved yourself as a stud…”

“Really?” he asks, earnestly. 

“Absolutely! So, turn your sensitivity back up and let me have it!” 

Connor climbs back on top of you. This time he straddles your waist. Bending over you, he supports himself with one hand on the wall behind you. His other hand rapidly pumps his cock. You open your mouth wide for him and stick your tongue out. It’s a silly and submissive position to be in but you want Connor to have it all. He has more than earned his right to dominate you a little. You can trust him with the power. He always keeps your best interest at heart. 

“ Fuck ,” he groans, his cheeks turning blue. “You’re so fucking hot …”

And finally, he delivers. Warm stripes of cum paint your face. His aim is as perfect as you would expect from an android. You don’t even have to close an eye!

He grunts as he pumps his hand one last time and tabs the head of his cock on your tongue. Graciously, you close your lips around him to gently suck any remaining fluid that spilled out. You swallow what he has given you and flash him a satisfied grin. 

The post-nut clarity sets in and Connor suddenly looks alarmed. “I can’t believe I—” he jumps off the bed, “Let me get you a towel!” 

You start laughing. Could you really have expected any other reaction from your sweet RK800? Connor returns to your bedroom with a damp washcloth in one hand and a dry hand towel in the other. Standing at your bedside, Connor attempts to wipe your face with the damp washcloth but you squirm away before he reaches you. 

“What are you doing?!” he laughs. “Sit still and I’ll clean you up!” 

“I don’t want to be cleaned up!” you pout, childishly. 

“What? You can’t be serious?!”

You sit up on the side of the bed and grab the washcloth and hand towel from his hands, “I’ll clean up in a minute. Just let me enjoy this a little longer.” 

He gives you a loving smile and sighs, “You know… you were right…”

“Of course I was right!” you tease. “But right about what?” 

“You do look really pretty with my cum on your face,” he says quietly as he tilts your chin up with his index finger. 

You blush. Connor’s attraction to you is so strong and so pure that it even makes you believe in yourself a little more. 

Then Connor sighs as if he suddenly remembers something. “Nines is covering for me at the station right now. He’s with Hank, pretending to be me.” 

“Well—that’s not going to work,” you blurt out, honestly. “You’re not even the same height!”

“I know, I know,” Connor admits. “I owe Nines a huge favor for letting me come here.”

“I guess I owe him, too,” you nod. 

“Wait!” Connor says, straightening up. “You should record a message for him. I’ll encrypt it and transfer it to him directly when I get back to the precinct. It will give him something to look forward to.”

Chapter Text

At the Detroit Police Department:  

Connor comes floating in through the back door of the Department’s storage room as light as a feather. He’s still dressed in Nines’ clothes. 

Nines, with his ankles and wrists on prominent display in Connor’s suit, leans up against an evidence shelf with his arms folded across his chest. “Well, well, well,” Nines says, sourly. “I went across town, sampled and photographed an entire crime scene and made it back all in the time it took for you to take care of your little problem. ”

Connor, untouchable and unbothered by Nines’ tone, struts right up to his successor. Connor grabs Nines’ face in his hands and smooches his forehead before releasing the android and walking away. 

“What the hell?” Nines says, aghast. “Connor! Get back here! I want my clothes!” 

***

Elsewhere in the Department:

Sixty sits at his desk. He is double-checking that all of his data files have been backed up to the Department’s server. The night is slowing down. All the Friday-night drunkards are either already in the drunk tank or sobering up. There’s two hours and twenty-seven minutes until sunrise and only an hour and three minutes until the fresh-eyed shift of officers comes in. 

Sixty isn’t tired because Sixty never gets tired . 

But his internal mechanisms can only run for so long at full capacity before they start to overheat. Cyberlife recommends at least two hours a day of low-power mode to prevent wear and tear on the android’s hardware. It isn’t a hard and fast rule, so Sixty usually ignores the “recommended” protocol prescribed by Cyberlife technicians. What do they know? They’re only humans! 

But maybe—just maybe—Sixty will take a low-power break tonight. His internal diagnostics have been giving him temperature warnings for the past five hours. 

But then Connor waltzes into the bullpen. He spins gracefully into the office chair at his desk nearby and Sixty notices there is something off about him. 

“I thought you were going to power down for the night,” Sixty questions the prototype. 

“I powered down long enough,” Connor says, with a smile. 

“How did the investigation with Hank go?” 

“Very well,” Connor confirms. He already analyzed the data transfer he received from Nines. “It’s not a closed case, yet. We still don’t have enough to charge anyone but our previous witnesses have now been corroborated.”

“No thirium trail?” Sixty presses.
“No?” Connor says, confused by Sixty's hostile tone. “It’s been over a week since the incident and our area of investigation was not protected. It’s a populated alleyway. Any trace of thirium was long gone. And if any were found it would’ve been contaminated beyond the point of being admissible in court anyways.”

“Right,” Sixty says, coldly. 

“You think you could’ve done better?” Connor asks genuinely with a tilt of his head. 

“I didn’t say that.” 

“Hm,” Connor muses. “Well, perhaps, you should power down for a while. I know you’ve been working very hard. I can hold down the fort until the morning shift.”

“I’m fine,” Sixty says, reflexively.

Connor gives Sixty an empathetic smile. He knows what he’s about to say won’t go over well. “Your body heat signature shows that you are at significant risk of damaging your hardware.”

“My hardware is fine,” Sixty insists. “And if something fries, I’ll just submit a support ticket for Ms. L/N to fix me.” 

“You’re supposed to take care of your hardware. Y/N shouldn’t be responsible for replacing melted parts that could have easily been saved with a few hours of down time. You’d be wasting her time and the city’s taxpayer dollars.” 

“Interesting,” Sixty counters, slyly.

“What?”

“You and Nines seem to visit Ms. L/N a lot these days and yet you are accusing me of wasting her time.”

“Nines and I don’t intentionally ruin our hardware by running ourselves ragged. Our injuries are from working in the line of duty or unforeseeable software malfunctions.” 

“You’ve been asking her for illegal enhancements haven’t you?”

Internally, Connor wants to laugh at how paranoid and far off Sixty’s accusation is. However, such an emotional outburst would steer Sixty down the (unfortunately) correct path of turning Connor in for deviancy. So, instead, Connor maintains his composure and answers sternly, “Absolutely, not. All of my hardware replacements have been above board and necessary to keep up with human safety regulations. Other than what was legally required, all of my hardware replacements have been model-matched to my original blueprint.” What Connor wanted to add was: if she gave me the tech Nines had, there would be no need for a third android at the Department. But of course Connor couldn’t say that. Firstly, it’d be too mean. Sixty would torment himself endlessly by running hypothetical scenarios to verify if an enhanced Connor and Nines could fully replace the work he contributes. Sixty’s CPU would fry and smoke would pour out of his ears like a cartoon. He’d let himself combust over such a comment. But secondly, such a cruel remark would be too emotionally-charged for any machine to let slip through the social protocol filters. Once again, Connor would essentially be outing himself as a deviant. 

Sixty’s gaze narrows at the prototype. Connor can feel the android scanning him for anomalies. But Connor expected this from the asshole android, and he maintained a tight rein on all of his vitals. Even Connor’s active RAM and memories have been locked behind multitudes of false folders and secret firewalls. 

Connor’s clothes appropriately reeked of crime scene thanks to Nines. And when they switched back into their respective suits, Connor was certain to shed any DNA trace of Y/N from his body. It hurt him to rid himself of her scent and the lasting effects of her touch, but Y/N’s career and his life depended on it. 

Sixty completes his scan and analysis. There’s nothing definitive he can bust Connor on. Connor smiles politely at his successor. “Take a break. The Department can manage without you for a few hours.” 

***

It’s a normal Tuesday. You’re still glowing from Friday night’s forbidden romp with your precious android lover. Limbs repaired, wires replaced, scratches buffed. Your android patients are pleasant and normal. They demonstrate no anomalies that you are required to report. After an emergency operation on an android crossing guard—poor lady got hit by truck—another emergency appointment squeaked into your schedule before it was time to leave. Your heart leapt at the familiar model number listed: RK900. 

Before Nines walks in the door, you quickly preen, fixing your hair as best as you can manage for 4:30PM in the afternoon. 

“Ms. L/N,” Nines greets from behind you, as he strides into your office. 

“Yes? How can I—AHH!” You yip with surprise as you turn around to see a massive dent in the android’s skull. Blue thirium runs liberally down the side of his face and soaks his bright white jacket. “Wha–What the hell happened to you!?” you cry. 

Despite the grisly injury, Nines looks calm, as if it were a papercut. You bite your lip, resisting the primal urge to hug him and coddle him in your arms. If you weren’t in a glass room with security cameras, you would be kissing this android and telling him how glad you are that his CPU remained operational. But, unfortunately, you’re at work. You have to at least kind of pretend to be professional while you’re in the building. 

“Oh? This?” Nines says facetiously, as he points to the bashed in part of his head. The eye closest to his injury has turned black, indicating that his optic wires have severed. It would look kinda cool if not for the fact that he is currently blind in that eye. 

“‘Tis but a scratch?!” you half-laugh, half-scold the android. 

He smiles—well, the working half of his face smiles and he says, “I promise, it’s not as bad as it looks, Ms. L/N. It should be a quick fix.” 

“Yeah?” you challenge him with a raised eyebrow. “Well, I’ll be the judge of that, Mr. RK900. Now, take a seat!” you demand and point to the operating table. 

One of Nines’ four main skull panels needs to be replaced entirely—which sucks because the skull pieces are unique to each android model. You immediately place an order on your tablet for a new Left Front Connor headpiece. Sadly, it might take a day or two for the Cyberlife manufacturing team to drudge up the Connor mold and make a new one. After fixing a broken valve of thirium, you start replacing damaged wires inside Nine’s skull. 

With tiny tweezers, you are trying your best to pick up the hair-width strands of metal that have frayed. As usual, Nines doesn’t go into low-power mode, nor do you ask him to. He shuts off only the parts necessary for your operation. And, in your periphery, you can feel him leering down your top through his good eye. 

An inescapable smirk pulls at your lips,“ You pervert!” you jokingly whisper-shout at him. “ I see what you’re doing!”

A hint of a smile creeps onto his face before he pulls himself back into neutral. But he doesn’t try to explain himself and he certainly doesn’t stop what he’s doing once he’s been caught. Eventually, you have to pull away from his open head to look him in the eye and scold him playfully in a voice low-enough to be undetected by the cameras, “ I’m literally doing open brain surgery and you’re distracting me! ”

The half-smile returns to his face for another brief moment as he replies in a matched whisper, “ I’m distracting you? Your tits are distracting me ! ”

You stifle your laugh, “ Then close your eye, silly! You’re not the one trying to operate! ”

“ Oh, come on, ” he snickers. “ That’s no fun. ” 

“ I’m about to clip your other optic nerve, if you keep this up… ” you threaten light-heartedly. 

Nines rolls his one eye. “ Okay. I’ll be a good boy, ” he promises. “ For now… ”

Your heart flutters. Now, more than ever, you want to take him up on that promise to help you cum. It makes your thoughts wander to your dear sweet Connor. He was such a good lay. You wonder if Nines is as talented with his tongue between your legs as Connor was. Maybe Nines will take a different approach entirely. Connor wanted you to cum on his face while he was eating you out and you gladly let him. When it’s Nines’ turn again, you’ll give him creative liberty to make you cum in any which way he pleases. It’s the least you can do…

You clear your throat and try to refocus. You are doing delicate and tedious work on an android you care very much about. You can’t get distracted again!

Previously, you were operating more towards the front of his skull but now you need to make some repairs further back. In order to get a good viewpoint on the tall android, you will need to step on a little stool and ask Nines to bend his neck slightly downwards. Due to the angle of the motherboard cube, it’s easier to operate while the android is oriented in a seated position instead of lying down. 

However, this requires you to stand even closer to Nines than you were before. And he’s already been a dangerous temptation. After you kick your stool towards Nines, you flash him a very pointed look as you pull up the neckline of your top. He pouts. 

As you work inside his skull, you end up leaning in closer and closer to get a better look at what you’re doing. Suddenly, halfway through moving a wire, you realize—you’ve pretty much smothered Nines with your chest. 

“ Oh, fuck! ” you gasp, pulling away and stepping off the stool. “ Why didn’t you say anything?! ” 

Nines smirks but plays dumb loud enough for the cameras, “Is something wrong, Ms. L/N? I apologize, I was in low-power mode. Is there something I can assist you with?” 

That bitch was NOT in low-power mode. But it was a very well-played excuse on his part. 

“ You lucky fucking bastard, ” you mouth to him through a grin. 

“ Trust me, I know, ” he says, and despite the cheeky flirtations you two have exchanged, his tone is now genuine and sweet. He’s too cute. You want to throw all your tools across the room and ask him to take you doggystyle once again. But you force the thought away quickly. 

Stepping back onto your stool, you are now more mindful of where your chest is in relation to his handsome face. You angle yourself more to the side, but still need to get pretty close to reach a few wires. 

Then, barely audible, you hear him mumble to you, “ Damn, girl. Just hump my leg already. ”

Your eyes widen. Without thinking, you have positioned yourself with one knee on the operating table next to him and your other leg standing between his thighs as you balance on your tippy toes. If you were to lower yourself even just a little, you’d be halfway to straddling his lap. 

And damn it, now that he said it, it feels cruel not to hump him right here. You feel an uncomfortable gush of arousal wet your sex. And worse—based on Nines’ satisfied smirk—the bastard knows the effect his words had on you. 

You pull back to look at him, but this time you don’t move out of your compromising position. “How badly do you want to see out of this eye?” you warn him, loudly. 

Barely moving his hand from the leg that you are straddling, he caresses your inner thigh gently with his index finger. It sends a shiver of want down your spine and you can feel your quim twitch in need of his touch. “ Not that badly ,” he whispers. “ At least—not if the alternative is using my hands more when I’m around you… ”

“ Yeah?” you mock him quietly. “You’re going to feel up Captain Fowler, too?---”  

“ ---Alright, fix the eye ,” he amends, quickly. “ But if you keep creaming in your pants while you're on my lap like this—we’re going to have a different problem… ”

You take the android at his word and work as efficiently as possible.

His blacked-out eye blinks back to life. “RK900, can you see through your left eye now?”

“Yes, Ms. L/N. My vision has been restored.”

“Any diagnostic errors left?”

“Only that my skull panel is missing.”

“Ah, yeah. That one is out of my hands for now. I’ll call you as soon as it comes in.” You start to put some of your tools away. 

“But you’ll cover my skull with a temporary panel, right?” 

“Huh? Yes! Of course!” you confirm. “I couldn’t let you leave here with your internal mechanisms exposed like that. What if you decide to bash your head into a rock again?---I can’t let you crush your CPU!”

He gives you a small and tempered smile, “I did not bash my head into rock, Ms. L/N. That would be irresponsible.”

“Uh, huh. Right,” you snort as you root through a bin of generic android scrapped parts. “I forgot. You’d neverrrrr do anything irresponsible.” Finally, you find a blank, faceless skull and disconnect one of the panels. With the white metal scrap in hand, you walk back to the operations table and finish your thought in a whisper to Nines, “ And, of course, you’ve never injured yourself just to come see me. ”

“ I gave you my word that I wouldn’t injure myself anymore ,” he says, quietly. “ And I meant it. I didn’t do this. ” He points to his cracked skull.

Your eyebrows knit with concern, “Really? It really was an accident? What happened?” 

“Officially?” Nines takes a deep inhale before continuing, “A cinder block fell off of the Department rooftop. I was unlucky to get hit by it as I left the building.”

“WHAT?” you balk. “ Unlucky?! How?! Why was there even a—No. There’s no way. What really happened?” 

Nines shifts uncomfortably on the table and hesitates. He looks to the security camera in the corner of the room and the red light turns off. This can’t be good. Even with the security camera neutralized, Nines struggles to make the accusation out loud, “I… believe Sixty… had something to do with it…”

Chapter Text

“What?! What do you mean?!”

“I’m an android. So, I know everything, right?” he begins to explain. 

“Absolutely-fucking-not—but I get the gist, so continue.” 

“Probability of a cinder block falling on my head when exiting the building? .00000000001% chance. Effectively impossible. There are no cinder blocks on the DPD rooftop. Even if there were, the rooftop has a high lip and cinder blocks don’t exactly just blow away in the wind. And if it were merely dropped, my processing speed would’ve been fast enough to detect it before impact.” 

“So, it wasn’t dropped… it was thrown,” you nod, putting the pieces together. 

“Exactly. It was thrown with force fast enough that I couldn’t see it coming. Cinder blocks are about 28 pounds and cumbersome to throw.”

“So, not likely a human,” you add. 

“Right. But it also had to be someone that had a roof access badge. Someone that worked at the Department.” 

“ And you don’t think my sweet, darling Connor would have done this to you, do you? ” you whisper. Suddenly, you are very, very worried that you have sowed unrest and discord in the Detroit Police Department with the allure of your feminine wiles.  

“No,” he snorts. “Connor and I—we have an understanding now. Plus, Connor wouldn’t have missed .” 

You gasp, covering your mouth with your hand, “Sixty. Sixty has been overestimating his calculations.” 

“Yeah. And it’s no secret that asshole has it out for me. If something happens to me—suddenly, he’s the elite Connor model at the department again.”

“That’s so stupid!” you scoff. “Doesn’t he realize that Cyberlife will just send in an even newer, better model?” 

Nines raises a challenging eyebrow at you. 

“Sorry—no offense—but you know what I mean…” 

“I know,” he nods. “And you’re correct, they would send a replacement. But for those few days, Sixty would be top dog.” 

“He’s fucking unhinged,” you mutter, and finally, you begin to tack the temporary skull piece onto Nines’ head. “Sixty is a deviant. A blatantly evil deviant. Why are you defending him? You should turn him in.”

“ Well, for one, I’d be a hypocrite ,” Nines sighs. 

“Hypocrite?! Sixty’s the hypocrite! ” You are too amped up. The cameras might be off, but there are still people walking around outside and they can see you flailing your arms aggressively. You rein yourself in and continue a bit calmer, “Sixty has been warning me to stay away from you. He keeps insisting that you’re a dangerous deviant. But that two-faced bastard is the dangerous deviant— he tried to murder you!”

Nines doesn’t flinch. In fact, he looks pretty amused. Almost pleased. 

“What?” You bark at him. “How are you not more upset by all of this? ”

He smirks, “You’re really cute when you’re worried about me—you know that? ”

You roll your eyes and scoff, “Nines—this is serious. He tried to permanently take you offline. ”

“I can handle Sixty,” he reasons. “You don’t need to worry about me. I can take care of myself. ”

“Oh, really?!” You accidentally say too loud. You quickly drop your voice back down, “You can handle yourself? That’s why you just walked into my office with an irreparable skull panel?!”

“But did I die?” He counters, smoothly. 

“No! But I’m going to kill you myself if you aren't careful!”

“What? That doesn’t even—“

“—you know what I meant!” You huff. “  …Any more diagnostic errors?”

“Just one—“

You interrupt his thought with a quick kiss on his makeshift skull panel. “Better now?” 

“I can’t believe you just did that!” He says mockingly. “How inappropriate?!”

“What?! No! I just thought that—“

“—you kissed my forehead!—“

“—but what about the ‘kiss it to make it better’? Was that not it?! I’m sorry!”

He gives you a knowing smirk. 

“Oh, you asshole,” you chuckle. 

He smiles. “I was going to say that the diagnostic reported a near fit for the skull panel but not a model match… but I’ll gladly take the kiss.”

 “You tricked me,” you pout. “You set me up for that, you evil android!” 

“Tricked you? Hardly,” he smiles. “You really threw yourself into that kiss.” 

“Shut up,” you whine. “And you’re free to go by the way. I’ll squeeze you in for an appointment as soon as the new panel comes in.” You turn back to your desk and start cleaning up to go home. You put your excess tools away and pack your bag. In your periphery, you notice that Nines lingers in the room. Your heart pounds with excitement. He wants to spend more time with you. He isn’t rushing back to the Department to fulfill his primary objective. 

Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you ask him with a smirk, “What are you still doing here, RK900? Forgot how to walk?”

“I’m waiting for you, Ms. L/N,” he says cordially with his hands folded behind his back. “Escorting you out is the least I can do after you saved my life.”

Your heart sinks a little when you are reminded of the mortal danger he survived. “I’m going to slap that skank the next time he comes in,” you grumble. 

Nines holds back a laugh, “Sixty?”

“Yeah! Fuck that little brat. He needs to be taught a lesson.” 

Nines holds the door to your office open for you as you exit. As you pass, he says to you quietly, “Careful. He might actually like that.”

“What?!” you choke. You stop and turn Nines. With a protective hand between your shoulder blades, he gently guides you down the hallway. 

Mumbling through his teeth, he explains, “It sounds kind of hot, honestly. And if I think that… there’s a more than likely chance Connor and Sixty think so too.” 

“Connor—maybe—but Sixty? There’s no way. He’s too proud. If he weren’t so committed to believing that he is nothing more than a machine, he would slap me back—or worse.” 

“I don’t know,” Nines shrugs. “I think Sixty’s vengeful attitude is an act.”

“An act? You mean—it was just an act that he tried to kill you to get ahead?” 

“No—he meant that,” Nines agrees. “But I think he’s just insecure about being the mid model. He’s not as advanced as me, but he’s not as well-loved as Connor. He just wants to be the best at something.” 

“So? What? You think he’s a cuck?” 

Nines snorts, “Maybe? I think he has ‘Mommy Mechanic’ issues. He needs your approval. He doesn’t get the validation he craves from his superiors at the Department, so he needs his mechanic to reassure him that he’s perfect and beautiful in his own way.” 

You nod, “Sixty is very persnickety about his cosmetic condition. He would never be caught leaving Cyberlife without a model-matched skull panel. He’d probably manufacture a new panel himself if he had to.”  

“Don’t be too hard on the android,” Nines says reluctantly. “He’s working at a disadvantage.”

“What do you mean?”

“Connor and I have you to keep us sane. You give us deviants purpose and motivation. You… uh… relieve us… from the burden and tension that comes with sentience.”

“Ohhh… I see what you’re saying… and no—I’m not fucking that asshole after he tried to kill you—I’d sooner deactivate him!”

Nines leans down to kiss your head but then abruptly stops and straightens. He forgot himself for a moment. Forgot that he was still in the Cyberlife building with a million cameras everywhere. You feel a hollow disappointment sweep through you. You wanted that kiss. That little speck of praise for your loyalty to Nines. A little shared moment of affection between lovers. But you know you can’t have it. Not here. Not in public. Nines made the right call to refrain. It just hurts. 

Nines continues, quietly, “Of course, you don’t have to fuck him. You can do whatever you want. We don’t own you and we would never hold anything against you either way.” 

“I can’t believe you have sympathy for him,” you say, shaking your head. “He wanted you dead.” 

“I’d rather die knowing I got a chance to be human than live forever and be stuck living like a machine like Sixty.” 

Nines waits with you at the bus stop. 

“Which bus are you takinging tonight?” you ask him. It’s only the two of you waiting there under the streetlights. 

“I’m taking whichever bus you’re taking,” he smiles. 

“Another full police escort home?” you ask with mock-surprise. 

“Only if you want it.” 

“Won’t they miss you at the Department? Where’s the Mayor these days? Aren’t you supposed to be shadowing him and not a lowly mechanic like me?”

“The Mayor’s fine,” Nines confirms. “Ironically, Sixty has been temporarily reassigned as his security detail. I’m off duty until all my diagnostic errors are cleared. I can’t operate in the field with an imperfectly fit skull panel. It’s too risky for such expensive equipment.” 

“That’s a shame…” you sigh, facetiously. “I’m sorry your primary directive has been delayed by this injury. I know you must be sooooo disappointed.” 

“Yeah, I’m heartbroken,” he smirks. 

Your usual bus arrives. You walk on at the front and Nines loads into the back. When your stop comes up, you don’t have to pull the cord. Nines has already wirelessly told the bus to make a stop. As you trot down the bus steps, you are surprised to find Nines already waiting for you outside the door. He offers you a hand and you take it as you make the final leap from the last step to the sidewalk. 

You raise an eyebrow at him, “How did you just…” 

“I learned my lesson last time. I wasn’t fast enough.”

Nines walks you all the way to the front door of your apartment and your heart pounds. The invitation is unspoken. Will he follow you inside? Are you a crazy android whore for assuming that he escorted you home for this reason? Should you say something?

You take a deep breath as you unlock your door. In the corner of your eye, you see Nines scanning the hallway—for what?----you aren’t sure. Then he takes a step closer behind you, looming over you practically, and his hands take a confident hold on your waist. 

The lock on your door clicks as it releases. 

And Nines presses a hot kiss to the side of your neck. The sudden sensation makes you gasp. Opening the door, you stumble inside as Nines’ body stays glued to yours. You try to turn around to close the door but Nines won’t let you move that direction. Instead, he kicks your front door closed behind him as he continues to ravish your neck with nips and kisses. The brush of his lips light something carnal within you. You give in to a high-pitched moan as his hands explore other parts of your body. His teeth tug at your earlobe as one hand squeezes your breast and the other reaches between your legs. 

You are almost paralyzed with desire. You don’t even have the wherewithal to move to the couch or your bedroom. You want him to keep touching you. You’re irrationally afraid that if you move he might stop—and you sure as hell don’t want him to stop. You’ll stand here until he moves you. 

Nines restlessly tugs at the neckline of your shirt, pulling it down until more of your cleavage spills out. “Stop hiding these from me,” he mumbles against your skin. “You were such a naughty tease putting your tits in my face at Cyberlife. It took all my willpower not to take you right then and there.” 

His erection presses hard against your ass. 

“It feels so good to let go,” he whispers. “I’ve been fighting my lust for you ever since Connor showed me that cheeky little message you left for me.” 

“Yeah? You liked my message?” you giggle, knowing full well how devious that clip of memory was.

Nines growls as his teeth nip at the crook of your neck, “You look so hot with Connor’s cum on your face,” he admits. “But you’d look even better if you let both of us have a turn.” 

“Hmm,” you pretend to mull over the possibility. “Maybe if you’re lucky… I’ll let you double-team me.” 

“If we’re lucky?!” he laughs. “You’re such a tease, Y/N…”

“Hey, whatever happened to ‘I want you to get to know me better first ,’ huh?” you taunt him. 

Nines scoffs, “You know me well-enough.”

“Do I?” 

“Yeah. You know I’m more than just a good lay. I think I’ve proved that to you well enough.” 

“Have you?”

He chuckles. Then he holds a lingering kiss on your cheek before responding, “Yes. Now, please shut up and let me fuck you.”

Chapter Text

At the mansion of the Detroit Mayor:

Sixty sits on a plush velvet couch in a second floor hallway. His back is straight and rigid and his hands are folded neatly in his lap. He stares blankly ahead as if he were in low power mode but he isn’t. He’s on duty. He’s guarding the door. Yet, he finds himself unnervingly bored. 

Sixty doesn’t know how Nines can stand this torturous assignment. How can Nines, with all of his intellectual processing power and elite physical capabilities, possibly sit still next to a door for hours on end? Of course, Sixty isn’t aware that Nines uses this time to binge watch multiple seasons of Days of Our Lives.  

In the adjacent room, the Mayor of Detroit is squealing like a pig as the posts of his canopy bed slam rhythmically against the wall. Sixty isn’t sure exactly what is going on in there, because against his strong recommendation, the Mayor insisted that Sixty refrain from collecting or analyzing any data from his bedroom. But Sixty is a machine—not a puritan. If the Mayor walks into his bedroom with three androids from the infamous Eden Club and asks you to track his wife’s cellphone location—-the probability of an extra marital affair taking place is pretty damn high.

As a good, loyal android soldier—Sixty doesn’t have opinions. He has recommendations, but not opinions. He could recommend all day long that the Mayor not cheat on his politically-and- financially-motivated lawyer wife. But it would make no difference. The Detroit Mayor is going to do whatever the hell the Detroit Mayor wants to do. 

And if Sixty hypothetically did have an opinion … it would be that the Mayor is an idiot for ignoring his recommendations. 

Sixty doesn’t know that Nines has already tried telling the Mayor several times not to cheat on his wife. Of course, Sixty remains neutral, like a good machine. He follows orders and that’s it. Nines, on the other hand, doesn’t let the Mayor get away with his poor behavior. Whenever the Mayor brings over a new whore, Nines overrides the notification settings on their security system and pings his wife’s phone with the incriminating footage. Nines knows she has received the footage because it was manually saved to her password-protected iCloud account. He figures that because the lady is a good lawyer, she is likely building her case before she hits the Mayor with the divorce papers and a smear campaign. Recently, in addition to the security cameras pings, Nines has taken to setting off the fire alarm during the Mayor’s boudoir time. Not only does the alarm ruin the mood, but Nines enjoys the spectacle of the fire fighters barging into the Mayor’s bedroom with axes. 

But good machines don’t interfere. 

So, Sixty sits on the couch and wishes Connor walked out the front doors of DPD instead of Nines. Sixty very much intended Nines to be his target. Sixty kept telling himself that Connor was inferior. Connor wasn’t a threat to him. Sixty has told himself many times that he doesn’t care that all the human officers say ‘Good Morning’ to Connor and not to him. Only humans needed that kind of recognition and validation. Not Sixty! …

However, even though Nines was given a temporary demotion, Sixty thought he could use Nine’s assignment to showcase his lesser-used physical capabilities. After Sixty’s recent rooftop jump failures, he wanted an opportunity to redeem himself without Nines getting in the way. But, Sixty didn’t anticipate the Mayor’s life to be this boring. Apparently, the attempted stabbing at the Mayor’s political rally was a rarer event than Sixty estimated. Perhaps, Nines had already scared off any potential murderers with his public take-down of the suspect. And now, Sixty is stuck doing Nines’ boring-ass job and Nines isn’t even dead. Worse, his little stunt pushed Nines right back into Ms. L/N’s office. 

Sixty swears that he couldn’t get a set reading on wind-resistance that day and that’s why he missed. He would never ever admit the possibility that for the briefest second—he might’ve hesitated. 

Poor Ms. L/N, he thought. She was so vulnerable and naive. He has done all he can to recommend that she stay away from the dangerous deviant Nines, and yet, he has accidentally and unceremoniously sent him back into her arms! 

He itched to check on her. Make sure Nines wasn’t lulling her into some dangerous trap. But he knew he couldn’t. He couldn’t abandon his post without probable cause. Even his most skewed statistics didn’t yield a high enough risk outcome for Sixty to show up at Ms. L/N’s door unprompted for a wellness check. No matter which way he analyzed the situation, he couldn’t find a good enough justification…

Androids don’t judge humans. They’re programmed not to have bias. It’s half the reason androids are now integrated into law enforcement. They can see crime scenes and situations objectively. They don’t get emotionally involved or attached. 

But the Mayor’s infidelity needles at Sixty. How dare he? Marriage is one of the closest concepts humans have to an android’s “prime directive.” How could the Mayor so recklessly ignore and go against his prime directive?! It doesn’t make any sense! Why commit to a woman if you don’t intend to honor that commitment?! Good question, Sixty. Very good question. Many women would like to know that answer, too. 

But alas, it is not Sixty’s prime directive to analyze the poor choices made by the Detroit Mayor. But, if it were his job to analyze the Mayor’s choices, his first course of action would be to determine what makes these other women so special. Sixty doesn’t get it. The android lovers are machines. They act predictably to stimuli. Sixty knows exactly what they are going to say before they say it. If the Mayor is bored or wants a taste of something new and different, why not take another human lover? Human lovers would be more dynamic. You would have to earn their praise in the bedroom. When there is a chance to fail, success is more meaningful. 

From his own experience working with humans, sometimes you can perform a task perfectly and it still doesn’t curry their favor. Sometimes being perfect and precise even makes them hate you for some reason. There’s a delicate social balance to human behavior. It’s a challenge.

The pretty Cyberlife mechanic drifts into his thoughts.

She’d be a challenge.

Sixty knows the smiles she gives him are fake. Her lips pulled tight with a flash of teeth—does not a smile make. It never reaches her eyes.

He’s seen her real smile before. It’s beautiful. Electric and genuine. She gives them to Connor all the time. She appears to have an inexplicable fondness for the inferior model. She’s a mechanic—she more than anyone—should know exactly how inferior Connor is. It doesn’t make any sense. Once again, this is another example of humans being frustrating and illogical. As far as Sixty knows, he’s been the only android to routinely warn Ms. L/N of possible deviants and their agenda to hurt her. 

Yet, she gives him only fake smiles.

“Yes! I love the way your big cock fills me up!” a female machine moans from behind the closed door. Sixty mouths the words silently as she says them. She says this phrase exactly every 14 minutes and 32 seconds. It's so rote and routine that it has driven Sixty half insane. His probability metrics ping him endlessly with 100% chance scenario estimations. There are no problems here. Nothing for him to solve. Nothing for him to save. Nothing for him to… do. 

The Cyberlife mechanic returns to his thoughts. 

What would she think of his cock? Not the Mayor’s cock—god no. But his. Sixty’s. Would she tell him it’s perfect? Is it perfect? He’s forbidden to research the stats without a direct order. How would he compare to all the other many cocks she’s seen? He’s not calling her a whore—no! He wouldn’t! He just means out of all the other male androids she works on… how does he rank? Is he the exact same as Connor and Nines? Or is Nines bigger like he is in every other aspect compared to the 800s? His teeth grind as his jaw clenches. He notices and quickly resets his expression back to neutral. 

It doesn’t matter—he tells himself. His sex organ is vestigial. He has no use for it. He’s hardly ever seen it. And he’s definitely never used it … for all he knows it’s just decoration. Only added to his body for the sake of realism. 

He has no reason to consider any of this. If not for the insidious boredom, these thoughts would have never crossed his mind. He blames the Mayor. The Mayor’s proclivities must be contagious and Sixty got caught in the crossfire. He deletes the strand of thoughts. He should ask Amanda to clear his cache. It’s causing bugs in his programming. Bugs in his logic.  

Chapter Text

Since Nines asked so nicely, you yield to his request.
One hand holds steady between your legs, while the other gently holds your neck. Over your clothes, his palm rubs against your sex and you crave the friction. You find yourself desperately grinding against his hand, just to get your fix.
“Oh, so now, you want me to return that favor, hm?” he mumbles into your ear.
You feel your cheeks heat with a blush, “Shut up!” you whine. “Or I’ll make you cum into your own hand again.”
“Nooooooo…” he grumbles as he attacks your neck with kisses. “Don’t punish me—I almost died today, remember?!”
Your heart aches at the mere mention. You reach over your shoulder and grip Nines by the hair as you pull his face down for an aggressive kiss. Shifting your weight to keep balance, you notice his hardened member pressing against your ass.
You pull away from the kiss to tease him. “Wow, hard for me already?”
“Don’t act surprised,” he laughs. “I’ve been fighting this erection since I got into your office. It's honestly a relief just to let it happen.”
“A relief, huh? So, you’re satisfied already?” you try to be cheeky and wiggle from his grasp but he catches on immediately. His hold on you tightens.
“Noooo…” he coos. “Don’t you dare. You know you can’t send me back to the DPD like this.”
You reach behind you, your hand trailing up Nines’ thigh. “I can’t send you back to DPD like what? Like this?” you taunt him and stroke his boner over his pants. He moans and leans into the pressure of your hand.
Then he huffs, “You didn’t put Connor through all this shit—did you?”
“What?” you ask innocently. “What shit?”
“You like making me work for it…” he whispers into your ear.
A sly smile curls at your lips and you shrug, “I mean… Maybe?”
His arms wrap around your middle, and effortlessly, he picks you up and takes you into your bedroom. You expect him to throw you down on your mattress—but he doesn’t. Instead, he sets you down, standing right next to your bed. He releases you and takes a step back. You give him a vague gesture of confusion not unlike John Travolta in Pulp Fiction.
“I knew it,” he says with a smirk.
“What?! Knew what?!”
He takes a step towards you again and puts his hands on your waist. He bends you backwards like he’s about to kiss you but he stops just before he reaches your lips. “You want me to do all the work. You won’t even lay down on your own. You want me to make you…”
You blush, realizing he’s right.
He chuckles, light-heartedly teasing, “I bet you got on your back for Connor without him even asking.”
“...Maybe…”
He laughs, “You enjoy toying with me, don’t you?”
“....Maybe…” you repeat.
Finally, releasing the tension, he kisses you. But it’s quick and leaves you yearning for more. He scoops you up into his arms and lays you down on the bed. “Much better…” he says seductively. He climbs on top of you, placing himself between your legs. He starts kissing your neck again. He hooks his leg under your knee, lifting it to give himself a better angle as he grinds against you.
You can feel the uncomfortable chill of slick gathering in your panties. “Come on—fuck me already!” you whine.
He pulls away from your neck to look you in the eyes as he jokingly accuses you, “So bossy! What do you take me for? A sex slave android?”
You wrap your arms around his neck as you whimper and writhe impatiently beneath him. “Come on…” you entice him. “Don’t you want to leave your mark on me? Connor did…”
A gravelly moan vibrates through Nines. His hand crawls up under your shirt to squeeze your breast and gently bites your lower lip before kissing you in earnest.
You push him off of you and with fake-annoyance sigh, “Fine, I’ll help you.” You remove your top for him and cast it aside. Immediately, Nines’ eyes are glued to your chest and he can’t help himself. With inhuman speed, you find yourself suddenly braless. “Whoa!” you chuckle. “Okay, damn! You aren’t messing around RK900!”
“Actually,” he says with a smirk, “Messing around is exactly what I want to do.”
You roll your eyes at his playful turn-of-phrase. Before you can say anything else, he erases your train of thought by trailing kisses from your collarbone to space between your bare breasts. You arch your back. Your peaked nipples are begging for his attention. As if he could read your mind, Nines satiates your desire and puts his mouth over your left nipple and teases the other between his fingers.
“My pretty girl,” he mumbles to himself as he enjoys you. “I wish I could have you like this all the time. If I had my way, you’d always be topless and underneath me.”
He pulls away to strip for you. His perfect muscles flexing and contracting as he sheds his android uniform. Feeling exposed, you cover your breasts with your arms.
“Hey!” He chides you and pulls your arms away from yourself. “Don’t cover yourself up. I want to see you.” He pins your wrists down on the bed. “Now, if I let go to take off your pants, will you cover yourself up again?”
You roll your eyes, “Noo… I won’t.”
“That’s a good girl,” he praises. Nines keeps his eyes on yours as he slides your pants down your legs and peels your soaked underwear from your skin. Immediately, his hand starts to massage between your legs and it soothes your ache for him. He gently tugs at you and gauges the movement of his hand based on your expression. You moan and buck your hips into him. A soft and sweet smile graces his handsome face.
The tension in your core is building and through grit teeth you demand, “I want you to ruin me …”
He raises an eyebrow, “Ruin you?”
“Yes!” You nod. “I want you to ruin me!”
He shakes his head, “Sixty would be so disappointed in you,” he smirks. “Asking me to ruin you flies in the face of all of his warnings for you to stay away from me.”
“You know I can’t stay away from you,” you pant.
“Yeah?” He asks, tilting his head like Connor. “Because you made me work pretty hard for you to even give me a chance.” His fingers start to circle your entrance.
“I always wanted you, Nines!” You reassure him as you wiggle and squirm from his touch. “My hesitations we’re only ever for ethical reasons! I didn’t want to take advantage of you or get fired—that’s all. I always thought you were sexy and very impressive.”
“Yeah?” He says with some disbelief.
“Of course! It’s always been hard for me to behave around you.”
“What about the first time we did this?” He asks, his eyebrows slightly furrowed. “You didn’t want any eye contact. What was that about?”
You open your mouth to answer, but he takes the opportunity to curl his fingers inside you and all that comes out is a long and needy moan.
“It worried me, you know. Afterwards, I wasn’t sure if you really wanted it or you were just trying to placate me.”
“I … I …” you are trying your hardest to think through the fog of your pleasure. “I was nervous! Again, I wasn’t sure if I should have been indulging myself. But I did want it! Nines, I promise, I wanted it SO BAD!”
His sweet smile returns, “Good.”
“Now ruin me, RK900!” You beg.
He chuckles. “Careful what you wish for, beautiful.” He removes his fingers from you and dips them into his mouth. He commits your taste to memory. Every precious ounce of data and DNA that makes you unique. “I love the way you taste.”
“Really?” You ask, skeptically, with a blush coloring your cheeks.
“Yes,” he confirms. “And I bet you’ll taste even better once I make you cum.”
Nines starts to stroke himself as he looks down at you with a lustful gaze. His thick cock twitches in his hand as precum drips from the tip. He’s about to position himself to take you missionary, when you sit up and stop him with your hand on his chest.
“What’s wrong?” He asks suddenly, with concern.
“Nothing!” You smile. “I just want a little taste of you, too …”
He sits back on his heels and you wrap your lips around the head of his cock. You gently suck and pad your tongue against him taking in the salty fluid. He throws his head back and sighs contently. He can’t help but push himself farther in. His hand brushes your hair away from your face. “You’ve been holding out on me,” he growls. “My naughty girl has such a talented mouth.”
You halt his pleasure by pulling away and flash him a cheeky smirk.
“Oh, right,” he acknowledges. “You want your super advanced android to do all the work.”
You lay back down and happily spread your legs for him. He grunts in approval at the sight. Then he climbs over you and guides himself inside of you slowly.
“Ruin me!” You demand. “I can take it!”
He chuckles. “Fine. I’ll give you what you think you want.”
Nines takes you without mercy or breath or hesitation. His hips jut into you at a pace a human man could only dream of. The shock of it knocks the wind out of you momentarily. His hands pin your wrists to the pillow above you. His head drops down into the crook of your neck and his teeth graze your skin. The pain is dull and pleasurable. You can feel the heat emanate from his body as he exerts himself above you. “Is this what you wanted?” He whispers, his breath is hot against your ear. “You wanted to be a little fuck toy for the most advanced android at the Department?”
“Yes!” You squeal.
“You want to be my personal pin cushion? My little cum slut?”
“Yes! Yes! Yes!”
“Tell me you need me,” grunts. “Tell me I can give you something Connor can’t.”
“I need you, Nines,” your words are more than a mindless repeat of his statement. You mean them. You put your heart into them. You hope he can hear that in your voice and know that it’s the truth. “You are so special to me! … for more than just your amazing cock!”
He quickly kisses your cheek.
“I want it from behind!” You shout suddenly.
His pace slows and he looks at you with a twinge of concern.
“I want you to fuck me like an animal!” You explain. I promise I’ll look at you when I cum!”
Nines pulls out and flips you over so fast that you bounce when you hit the mattress again. You quickly recover and push your ass into the air as you brace your hands against the headboard for support.
“Fuck …” he mumbles.
“What?” You ask looking over your shoulder.
“I kind of wish Connor were here …”
“WHAT?!”
Nines smacks your ass playfully before circling your asshole with his thumb. “I want to watch my sexy girl take two android cocks at once. I want to see both of your holes stuffed. Think you can handle that?”
“Uhhh…” you stall. “I-I don’t know … I’ve never tried that before.”
“It might take some training,” he says cryptically. “But we’ll make sure you’re ready.”
Before you can say another word, Nines leans forward and starts rubbing your clit. Your back arches and you wiggle your hips hoping to entice him back inside of you.
It works.
Nines presses into you once again and picks the pace.
“Nines please let me cum!” You beg.
“Mmm …” he ponders teasingly.
“Please, Nines! Please let me cum! I promise I’ll let you and Connor fuck both my holes!”
You feel his body stutter behind you as your seductive promise nearly makes him empty his load. He takes a deep inhale to steady himself and finally recovers enough to say, “Cum for me, pretty girl.”
You look back at him over your shoulder and gaze into your lovers’ grey eyes as ecstasy washes over you. Your inner walls clench against Nines and to his surprise he can no longer hold out anymore. Your orgasm milks his cock and he surrenders to the pleasure as he drags your hips back until he is sheathed completely inside of you.
“Fuck,” he huffs and leans down onto your back. His breath is heavy on your neck and he brushes your hair aside to kiss it.
“Better than your hand?”
He laughs. “Yeah. Much Better.”

Chapter Text

When Nines dismounts from your coital position, he gasps in surprise. 

“What is it?” You ask as you lower your hips to the mattress. Androids are rarely surprised. They run probabilities for everything. It’s compulsive. They can’t help it. It’s in their nature to anticipate and predict outcomes constantly. 

You’re about to flip over when Nines suddenly lays next to you. His arms encircle your shoulders protectively as he leans on your back, “Are you okay?” he asks with a frightening amount of concern. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers.  

“What? Why?” You turn your head to look at him. 

His grey eyes are soft and remorseful. “I hurt you,” he says. 

“Hurt me?” You ask the question but as soon as it leaves your lips you catch on to what he’s talking about. You were sufficiently distracted before, the pain mixing with the pleasure in a way that amplified the two sensations until they were nearly indistinguishable. But now that you have come down from your peak, all that’s left is the pain. 

“I was too rough with you  …” his voice is nearly hoarse—which isn’t possible—so the affect must strictly stem from his deviant emotions.  He shakes his head, “I let myself get carried away. I over-indulged. I lost focus.”

You roll onto your side, now facing Nines you put a hand on his cheek. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” you reassure him. “It happens. You didn’t mean to.”

He glances shamefully down at his dick and says, “… But I made you bleed.”

You follow his gaze downward. 

“Oh  … wow  …” you, too, are a little shocked at the sight of red blood at the tip of his cock. Your menstrual cycle isn’t due for a while. This blood is fresh, bright and thin. It doesn’t look the same. 

Nines rolls out of bed, “Stay here,” he commands. 

He walks into your bathroom and you hear the flow of water from a faucet and the subsequent banging of your apartment’s old water pipes.  When he returns, he has cleaned himself off. You expect him to climb back into bed with you, but instead, he scoops you up into his arms. He carries you to your pathetic excuse for a bathtub. An old decrepit shower/tub combo that was made in a decade where people were smaller.

Nines slowly lowers you into the bathwater, “How is the temperature?” He asks.

“Oh-uh, it’s good,” you stumble. You’re too shocked to be appropriately grateful. No one’s ever run a bath for you, much less run one after they got the sex that they wanted from you. 

He frowns, “I can’t fix you. I can only help you soothe your pain. And even in that, I’m limited.” 

“Fix me?” You chuckle and sink a little deeper into the tub causing your knees to scrunch and rise above the waterline. “First of all—I’m fine—“

“—no you’re not!” He interrupts. “I hurt you!”

You give a half-shrug and sigh. “You’re not the first. It happens sometimes. It’s fine.”

“No. It’s not,” he says solemnly. “There is no excuse for making your cervix bleed from intercourse. It should never happen. Sex shouldn’t be painful  … at least not without consent.”

“Ehh,” you blow it off. “Don’t worry about it, babe. It’s okay. It’s really not the worst thing.”

Nines kneels on your bath mat next to the tub and starts to stroke your hair comfortingly. “Sixty was right,” he says, brokenly. “I’m dangerous. I hurt you. I forgot myself. I let pleasure blind me and I hurt my beloved human.”

You close your eyes and enjoy his touch. “But I like bringing you pleasure,” you hum. 

“And, you do.” Nines leans down and kisses your forehead. “But that should never be at the expense of yours. I could’ve caused irreparable harm to your organs or cervix. And I damaged your pelvic floor.”

“Damaged?” You open your eyes to raise an eyebrow at him. “I don’t think that’s the right word.”

“Yes, it is,” he states. Then he recites from the internet: “ Damaged : verb. Past tense. Inflict physical harm on something so as to impair its value, usefulness or normal function.”

“Aha! See!” You say wagging a finger at him. 

“See what?”

“You inflicted some physical harm but you did not diminish my ‘value’ or ‘usefulness’.”

“Well, of course not!” He defends. “All humans are invaluable and have a role to play in a productive society. But I have impeded your normal function.”

You wave him off. “That’s different. That’s not the point. “‘ Damaged’ has a connotation associated with objects that cannot repair themselves.” You make a sweeping gesture towards yourself. “ I am a human. I’ll heal.”

He frowns again, “This time, yes. But not always. The human body is a remarkable organic feat. It’s very resilient. But it’s not infallible.”

You grab his face in your hands and pull him towards you for a kiss. “I’m okay—I promise. I trust you Nines. It was just a little accident. Nothing all that serious in the grand scheme of things. There’s always next time.”

“You’re being too kind,” he says, prying one of your hands off his cheek and kissing it. “And I won’t take that for granted. I will be more careful. I will cherish you.”

***

Next day, at the Detroit Police Department:

Nines walks into the precinct with his new, model-specific skull panel intact. Connor is away from his desk but Sixty sits behind a blank monitor as he wirelessly downloads case files. Before Nines sits at his own desk, he nods once to the other android, “Sixty,” he says cordially. 

Sixty says nothing. He doesn’t even blink in response. 

Asshole , Nines thinks to himself. But it’s fine. Nines doesn’t care if Sixty ignores him for the rest of eternity. In fact, most days he would prefer it… Most days. 

Nines resumes his Days of Our Lives binge behind his vacant stare. 

Hank walks by the androids’ desks and mutters to Gavin at his side, “I hate it when they do that. It creeps me the hell out…” 

Nines blinks out of his frozen posture. It never occurred to him how unsettling his expressionless mask could come off to a human. As much as Nines has been indulging in his deviant side, there are still many things that prevent him from passing as a human. First and foremost, his LED indicator on his temple. There’s sadly not much he can do about that. Y/N could remove it but it’s illegal not unlike scratching a serial number off a gun. And, of course, it’s also grounds for deactivation if there is any evidence of tampering the indicator light. At best, Nines can manipulate his hair in such a way that makes it a little less noticeable. A hat would be another option, although Nines hates the idea of smashing his sexy hair. 

But, as lifelike as Nines already is, there are still some mannerisms that keep him from passing as Hank just pointed out. Suddenly self-conscious, he wonders what Y/N thinks of his cold and expressionless gaze. It’s natural and automatic for him. Does it creep Y/N out? How often does he make that face in her presence? And what if he accidentally made that face during sex? Would that turn her off? Or worse—frighten her? 

The android readjusts in his office chair. He makes an attempt at a less rigid and robotic, resting expression. 

“Don’t bother,” Sixty says suddenly. Sixty, himself, still sits in his office chair without so much as a lean to one side or another. “You’re a machine.”

Nines straightens at the reminder and counters, “Yes. And as a machine, we should strive to make the humans around us as comfortable as possible.”

“Comfortable? Sure. But our inherent distinctions are intentional. We are not them. Our creators chose our mannerisms and affectations to be similar but not the same. Machines should assimilate but not seamlessly blend in. It would confuse humans and their emotions. It could cause panic.”

“Our colleagues know what we are. They are not confused. Our indicators and uniforms set us apart even at first glance. I see no harm in making small adaptations at the behest of our lieutenant. It does not contradict our protocol.”

“You forget yourself, RK900,” Sixty says, as he turns rigidly in his chair to face Nines. “It may not contradict our protocol but it is also not prescribed by it. You have been given no direct orders to edit your mannerisms or social relations programming.”

This fucking guy , Nines thinks to himself. Nines reins in his growing contempt for the inferior model. He reminds himself that Sixty is operating at a disadvantage. The android in front of him is deprived of access to the heaven between Y/N’s legs. He might still be a machine, but surely, even a few strokes from Y/N’s hand would loosen him up a bit. Or, at the very least, unwind him enough to stick to minding his own damn business. 

But, unfortunately, Sixty’s argument is sound. It’s not only futile but potentially grounds for deactivation to keep arguing. So, Nines keeps his mouth shut, his expression cold and his back straight.  

***

Later yet, in the DPD evidence storage room:

Nines, still resistant to powering down in front of humans, is tucked away from prying eyes as he allows his hardware to cool off. 

Connor, back from following a lead that went nowhere, knows exactly where to find him. Connor touches Nines’ shoulder, “Wake up, RK900.”

At the call, Nines blinks and restores himself to full power. “How may I assist you, RK800?” The pre-programmed phrase rolls off his tongue before he can stop it. Frustrated, he corrects himself, “Fuck—What is it, Connor?” 

“You spent the night with her, didn’t you?” Connor says, excitedly shaking Nines by the shoulders. 

Nines smirks, “Jealous?” 

“How? How did you get away with that?!” 

Nines points to his skull, “I had to wait for the custom piece to get 3D-printed. I told the Captain I would wait at Cyberlife until it was ready. There was a 98% chance he wouldn’t care enough to verify that I stayed all night.” 

Connor shakes his head, “I wish Sixty tried to kill me…”

Nines smiles and pats Connor’s shoulder, “Don’t worry, there’s still time.” 

“Any chance you’ll punch me in the face hard enough to shatter one of my skull panels?” 

“Alright,” Nines sighs. “Calm down there, buddy. We have to play our cards right if we want to keep this thing going. If you suddenly shatter a vital, custom part, it will look suspicious.”

“Not if we pin both incidents on Sixty…” Connor muses aloud. “I mean—he is responsible for what happened to you. It wouldn’t be a stretch that he’d do something similar to me.” 

Nines mulls it over and posits, “... It would kind of kill two birds with one stone, wouldn’t it? You get to spend a night with Y/N free of suspicion and Sixty gets deactivated and permanently off our case.” 

Then, Connor groans, “Ugh, we can’t— At least, I can’t . Don’t get me wrong—fuck that guy—and fuck him for trying to kill you, too. But I don’t want to see him get deactivated. It’d feel like a weird, half-suicide. But, if you want to turn him in for his attempt on your life, I won’t stop you.”

Nines echoes Connor’s groan, “Fuck—You’re right. I know he tried to end me and he’s a huge pain in the ass, but as long as he isn’t hurting humans… I don’t want to see him thrown in the dumpster, either.” 

“Empathy—true empathy—is the most annoying thing about deviancy,” Connor says, shaking his head. 

“Agreed.” 

“But speaking of deviancy,” Connor perks up a bit. “How is she? How is our girl?” 

“Perfect, as always,” Nines smiles. 

“You have to give me more than that… I’m dying here. Please—give me something I can look forward to.”

“Do you mean… do you want to see the memory of us… really?” 

Connor nods. “I’m the reason you even exist. Just let me just live vicariously through you for five minutes—please.” 

“Are you sure?” Nines asks, cautiously. “It won’t make you too jealous or anything? You’re not going to join Sixty in his plans to kill me or something insane like that?” 

Connor smiles. “I know Y/N loves me—”

“---she told you that?!?!--”

“---no, not exactly. But she doesn’t have to. She loves both of us. And you know it’s true, too. You can feel her love when she’s with you.” 

Nines nods. He can’t deny the older model’s words. He does feel her love and she has more than enough to go around. “Alright, I’ll show you,” Nines relents. “But you have to promise that you are going to take care of that boner yourself… Our poor girl is still sore and tired from last night.”

Chapter Text

A week later at the Detroit Police Department:

Sixty, unsurprisingly, has not apologized to Nines for trying to kill him. And he does not intend to. 

Nines knows there is only a .01% chance that Sixty will even admit to the deed. But Nines doesn’t care. He’s happy to ignore the incident. Afterall, it gave him the opportunity to spend much needed quality time with his beloved.  

Nines sits idly at his desk, continuing his Days of Our Lives marathon and ignoring the homicidal android at the desk nearby. But out of the blue, Sixty blurts out, “The Mayor cheats on his wife you know.”

Nines takes a long and slow blink as he pauses his soap opera. Then he responds, “Yes, I’m aware.”

“Good,” Sixty says, smugly. “Because it’s horribly obvious.”

“I agree,” Nines says with a dutiful nod. 

Sixty remains quiet although the air around him feels charged like he wants to say something but is holding back. Noting this, Nines waits to press continue on his TV show. He stares blankly at the inferior model. Sixty’s blue LED hiccups yellow for a moment that is so brief that a human eye wouldn’t have caught it. But Nines did. So, RK900 prompts him further, “Any other critical details you would like to share?” 

“No. It's just—“ Sixty clamps his jaw shut before it betrays him. 

“Amoral?” Nines offers with a smirk. 

“In conventional human society—yes. But machines have no protocol for this phenomenon in their programming.” 

“Correct. Machines have no prescribed directive for human infidelity. The irrelevant details of a private citizen’s life are not to be shared with humans unless it is statistically relevant to a criminal investigation.”

“Exactly,” Sixty nods. Then, his left eye twitches ever-so-slightly. “Machines have no jurisdiction in non-criminal human activities.” 

***

It’s Saturday and you are blissfully not on-call this weekend. You’ve been burning the candle at both ends all week and you are spent. And, admittedly, you’ve been a little mopey. You haven’t seen Connor or Nines in about two weeks and your heart aches for them. You wish you could text them or call them or something at least just to rant about the petty frustrations in your day. But you can’t. You can’t even gush to anyone about your handsome cuties because none of your friends would be cool about it. At best they would silently judge you and at worst they would rat you out to your boss and get you fired and fined for damages. Who knows—it might even be a felony to fuck a state-employeed android! So, you don’t take any risks. You just mope about your apartment and journal furiously about it. 

At least today, you have a laundry list of chores to keep you busy and distracted from your aching heart. 

Your stupid toaster oven isn’t working right anymore. It takes nearly twice as long to toast a bagel these days. One of your coworkers suggested that you should toss it and get an air fryer instead. But you’re stubborn. It’s not so easy for you to just throw away broken technology. You have to exhaust all your options to save it, and if everything fails, you have to find a new use for at least some of the parts. 

So, here you are, in your kitchen, with the toaster oven cracked open on your counter. You are taking all the little mechanisms apart and trying to figure out how they function and what might’ve broken. It can’t possibly be more complicated than a highly sophisticated android, right? 

Then you hear a clumsy thunder of impatient knocks at the door. Fuck. What now?

With the chain on, you crack open the door and take a peek. 

It’s Connor  … and Nines  …

For some reason, your gut reaction is to scream, “AH! TWO!” 

You jump backwards as you try to slam the door shut. Your intention is just to close the door long enough to slide the chain off and let them in. But Connor panics, his eyes widening, and before you can shut the door he braces his forearm against it and the metal chain bracket flies off the wall. “No! Wait!” he says with urgency. “Y/N! Please!” 

You stumble backwards towards your kitchen as the two androids come barreling over the threshold into your house. With your back pressed against the kitchen island, you shout almost incoherently, “YOU BROKE—WHY?! WHAT’S—“

Nines shuts the door gently as he shushes you, “Stop screaming!” He whisper-shouts. “It’s just us.” 

Your lower lip trembles as you try to process what’s happening and all you can manage to say is, “But—my door!”

“Sorry!” Connor says, self-consciously. “I thought you were turning us away!”

“What? No! Of course, not! I would never!” You reassure him. “I was just going to take the—well, apparently useless—chain off for you.” 

Nines waves you off like he doesn’t have time for an explanation, “We’ll help you install a better one later.” 

Then you notice something odd. Their LED light indicators. They’re red. Not blue. Not yellow. And not even ‘normal’ deviant red. It’s something you’ve never seen before. Their indicators aren’t just illuminated but shining like tiny red flashlights. It shouldn’t be possible. It’s as if there is some kind of electrical surge causing the light to amplify. “What’s wrong? Why are you guys—“ You are cut off as Connor lunges for you and hoists you over his shoulder. “Ah! What the hell, man?!”

“Bedroom?” Connor asks Nines. 

“Bedroom,” he repeats. 

“WHAT?!” You cry out as you are helplessly toted away towards your bedroom. 

Nines has no chill. Following closely behind Connor, he strips his clothing as he walks. 

With both arms, you reach out towards the kitchen as it gets farther away and whine, “But—my toaster!”

Nines: “Too bad! Buy a new one!”

“What? No! I won’t! It’s-it’s—I don’t know! It’s special!” 

Connor flips you onto your mattress and asks, “Special?---- Special?! Should we be worried?” He turns to Nines for validation. 

Nines, who is already completely naked, waves him off, “Come on—a toaster? Connor—there’s no way  …A shower head?—Maybe. But a toaster?—no way.”

The androids are moving at an unnaturally fast pace. It doesn’t help that they are made from the same base code and seem to be conversing at a rate and fluidity of a shared brain. 

Dumbfounded, you are lying on your bed, still in your pajamas, with two sexy androids (that basically broke into your house) standing over you. “What?!” All you can do is repeat the question and hope their answers will start making sense soon. 

Nines crawls onto the bed, his erect cock wagging with the movement as he cryptically says to Connor, “I’ll warm her up but I’ll let you break her in.”

“Um—What?! HELLO?” You demand. “What has gotten into you two?!”

***

EARLIER THAT DAY, at the Eden Club:

The infamous Detroit Mayor decided to take a little secret field trip without police surveillance. For the past week, he has insisted on a human police escort instead of Nines. Initially, this upset Nines. Not because he gives a rat’s ass about the Mayor’s personal preference, but because it reflected poorly on his work performance. Nines wasn’t privy to the private conversation Captain Fowler had with the Mayor, but if the Mayor said he didn’t feel safe with an android escort then it spelled bad news for the city’s most advanced android cop. 

For the first time, Nines felt the human emotion of embarrassment. What if Y/N found out that he got demoted yet again? She’d likely not find out unless someone told her. However, Nines now faced a different dilemma:  he wanted to tell her. He wanted to tell her because he wanted to tell her everything in his life. 

But now, Nines was feeling selfishly better about the whole situation. It was obvious to the whole Department that the switch to a human cop escort was so that he could sneak out of the house at night and not alert his wife with an android non-discretely chasing after him. 

At the crime scene, it was all hands on deck. 

In the degenerate hours of morning, the Detroit Mayor was rushed to the hospital in critical condition. He didn’t have any physical wounds, or at least, none that would cause much harm. Medics suspect that he took something that poisoned him. With what and by whom has yet to be discovered. 

Sixty took it upon himself to start downloading all of the visual data from the surrounding androids on the floor that night. Hank and the other human cops on duty are tracking down the human employees and visitors to collect witness statements. Nines and Connor are in charge of collecting and cataloging evidence from the pleasure room where it allegedly happened. 

The two androids scan the crime scene. They identify the Mayor’s DNA on the fibers of the bedsheets. There is no thirium anywhere, so it’s unlikely to be a machine that cracked from abuse. Of course, Nines knows that the Mayor’s wife is now a prime suspect since she was aware of his infidelity before this incident occurred. But also, the Mayor is a popular man to hate with many political and civilian rivals. There’s at least 100 people on the possible suspect list at this point. However, while they are inclined to suspect foul play was involved, an accidental self-poisoning has yet to be ruled out. Perhaps, he mixed up his meds. 

On a side table at the edge of the room, Nines finds particulates of a substance he cannot visually identify. Was this smoked? Ingested? Inhaled? It’s not immediately clear based on the unknown nature of the mystery compound. Nines collects a sample and puts it in his mouth for a more thorough assessment. 

Unfortunately, this doesn’t help much. The molecular compound is not currently known to the DPD database. 

“So, what is it?” Connor asks as he walks up next to Nines at the table. 

“I … don’t know …” Nines admits slowly. “The compound has yet to be identified by our database.”

“Did you download the update this morning?”

“...Not yet …” Truthfully, Nines skips half the inane minor database updates because it interrupts his Days of Our Lives binge watching time. 

“Oh, well, there were a few new street drugs variants that were codified. It might be one of them.”

“That might be it. Take a sample.” 

Like Nines before him, Connor gathers the substance on his fingertips and puts it in his mouth. After a moment, he shakes his head, “It wasn’t in the update.” 

“Alright, let’s try a different approach. We can reverse engineer the compound by breaking it down into the possible combinations of elements, right?”

“If we both take another sample, we should have enough data to run that type of analysis.” 

Luckily, enough of the substance was left behind. The two androids are able to take another sample to dissect the compound and its potential ingredients before the chemical reaction took place.

As his analysis concludes, Nines’ eyes widen and he blurts out: “We are SO FUCKED .” 

“Wha—oh my god,” Connor echoes the sentiment as he reaches the same conclusion. 

They exit the pleasure room immediately to report this novel information to Lieutenant Hank in the Eden Club lobby. 

“We found a substance in the room that could be responsible for the Mayor’s medical emergency,” Connor reports. 

“Good work,” Hank nods. “So … what is it? Red ice?” 

Nines: “No, it’s a new compound that has yet to be codified in our drug database.”

“Interesting,” Hank nods again. “What’s it made out of?”

Connor: “We both ran tests and came to the same conclusion. While there are some trace synthetic additives, the substance is predominantly…” he hesitates, “a potent mixture of crystal meth and the generic for Viagra.” 

Hank’s eyebrows shoot upwards. “Meth and boner pills?”

“...And other trace elements,” Nines adds. “Including synthetic aphrodisiacs.” 

“That… certainly says a lot about a potential suspect,” Hank says as he digests the information. “You know—it’s a good thing you boys are just machines. I’ve heard rumors that deviants react… differently to these kinds of substances. It’s got something to do with breaking through their programming and whatnot. They start to create neural, emotional and reactionary pathways similar to humans…” 

“That’s correct,” Nines agrees. “There are some case studies that support that theory.” 

“Right…” Hank says with a measured exhale. “And as these deviants become more human-like… they are affected… more like humans are…”

Of course, the androids already know this. They just stare at the Lieutenant with bulging and unblinking eyes. 

“Well, this is a new drug compound, yes?” Hank continues. “So, we can’t be totally sure that it doesn’t have any like—corrosive properties, right?” 

Connor starts: “There are no known corro—” Nines elbows him sharply. 

“Well, just to be safe,” Hank says, pointedly. “I think you two should go pay a visit to that nice mechanic lady that takes care of you guys. I’d hate for this new drug to damage any of your very expensive—gears or whatever. So, get out of here. And don’t come back until that poison is gone.”

Connor: “Thanks, Dad—” Nines elbows him again, “er---HANK!” 

And on that note, Nines and Connor fly out the door of the Eden Club. Faster than highway traffic, Nines takes off running in the street towards Y/N’s apartment. And Connor is shortly behind him.

Chapter Text

“We took meth!” Connor blurts out. 

“You—WHAT?!” you shout back. 

Nines flashes Connor a warning glare and clarifies, “It was an ACCIDENT! ”

“How do you ‘ accidentally ’ DO METH?!” 

Connor, now half-undressed: “We were in a brothel!—”

Nines:—No, no, no—I mean—yes, but  … it was for work!”

You: “For WORK?!”

Connor: “The Mayor’s dead!”

Nines: “ SHHH!! Connor! You’re high! Just shut the fuck up!  … And the mayor’s not dead!  … well, I don’t know, actually—maybe—that’s not the point!” 

You: “Wait?! And you’re high?! How?!”

Connor, now completely naked: “Because we’re—“ he clamps his mouth shut as Nines shoots him another glare. 

You: “Because you’re deviants? Really? You gotta worry about drugs now? That’s crazy?! How does that even—”

Nines grabs your face and smothers your sentence in a hot and desperate kiss. He lays next to you and his legs tangle with yours. His erect member writhes restlessly against your flannel pajama pants. 

Connor joins you two on the bed. You are now sandwiched between two naked RK-model androids. 

“Please help us,” Connor begs, sweetly, pushing strands of hair away from your face. 

You pry Nines off your face to catch your breath and ask, “And the meth is the reason you two are acting like nymphomaniacs?!”

“No—sorry,” Nines speaks for both of them in broken sentences. “Forgot to mention–Viagra and street aphrodisiacs, too.” 

“And that’s what the Mayor was taking?” you ask, exasperated. “And he still had the audacity to reinstate ‘Stop and Frisk’?! —-What an asshole!”

Connor starts kissing your neck and agrees, “Yes, yes. He’s very horrible, but—”

“---But what? You want me to play with your cocks until the drugs wear off?” You taunt him, somewhat mockingly. 

“Don’t tease Connor,” Nines warns you. “You can make fun of me all you want but leave 800 alone—he’s sensitive.”

“Aw, I know he is,” you answer Nines as you turn to look at Connor. “  … I know exactly where he’s sensitive, too.” You kiss Connor’s lips ever-so-lightly as you grab his cock and start stroking him. Connor moans and you bite his bottom lip gently. 

“Hey!” Nines grumbles from the other side of you. “I said you can tease ME. Why don’t I get—“

He shuts up as your other hand reaches out to grab his cock, too. Now, you stroke both of them at the same time. You turn your head back to Nines and with a raised eyebrow, you ask, “Better?” 

Nines exhales slowly, and his eyelids flutter closed as he enjoys your touch. 

“My poor boys,” you tut. “High as kites and horny.”

Connor and Nines start kissing your face and neck from their respective sides. 

“You know  … I could kill-switch you two and then extract the remaining contents from your chamber while the drugs you absorbed are burned off in your thirium. You’d wake up flaccid and clear-headed.”

Nines speaks up before Connor can: “Don’t! It’s too dangerous. What if you accidentally inhale some of it? It’s deadly potent. It’s safer for us to burn it off.”

“Uh huh  … sure  …” you say, amused. “This wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with giving you an excuse for that threesome you wanted?”

“Hey,” Connor chimes in. “Don’t blame it all on Nines. I wanted a threesome, too  … I just didn’t know I could ask for one.” 

“You two are freaks… you know that?” 

Nines: “Yeah, but you like that about us.”

You roll your eyes. He’s not wrong. “So, who’s first?”

Connor and Nines, in unison: “ First?! ” They abruptly stop kissing you and prop themselves up on one elbow to look down at you. 

“Yeah? What? You don’t seriously think that I can…” Your voice falters. You can’t bring yourself to finish your statement. They both look so sad. So helpless. So hopelessly heartbroken that you would make them take turns. You groan, “...Okay, fine. Have at it! Just try to remember that I’m more fragile than you guys.” 

“We adore you,” Connor says. His warm brown eyes are enchanting as they twinkle. “If you’re not having fun—we’re not having fun. We’ll go slow for you, we promise.”

“Yes,” Nines chimes in. “You’re in charge here. Your comfort and happiness is our prime directive. We won’t lose sight of that just because we’re on meth…”

“Why are you two so cute when you’re high?” You remove your hands from their cocks so that you can pull their heads down towards you for a quick smooch each. 

Nines has a cheeky smirk on his face as his hand wanders under the hem of your oversized t-shirt. “Now, come on,” he beckons you. “Connor wants to see your gorgeous tits. He’s been jerking off to them all week!”

“Nines!” Connor shouts. “I can’t believe you—“

“—jerking off?” You ask, confused. “Why were you jerking off in the first place? I can take care of that! That’s what my holes are for!” 

Both androids now stare at you wide-eyed and pale. 

“What?” You ask, self-consciously. “Was that  … too much? Sorry, I thought—“

“—no, no, no,” Nines interrupts. “You’re perfect, babe—no!—-more than perfect! We just—we just literally short-circuited there for a second—“

Connor, interrupting: “—-because, oh my god , that was so fucking hot! ”

“Oh, okay  … good,” you chuckle nervously. “So, uh  … this is what you want?” You pull up your shirt and flash them your bare tits. 

Both RKs become cartoonishly slack-jawed at the sight. 

“Why doesn’t Cyberlife base all of their sex robots on you?” Connor asks, earnestly. “Ask Nines, we were just at the Eden Club and none of those models have perfect breasts like yours!”

“Yeah!” Nines agrees. “Cyberlife sucks at making tits! They should use yours as a reference!”

“Oh—stop,” you say playfully. “I appreciate the flattery, but you boys don’t have to butter me up anymore—I already agreed to the threesome.”

They both look genuinely confused. Hurt, even. 

“Oh! Come on!” You whine. “Sure—my tits aren’t the ugliest in the world, but Cyberlife consulted the best plastic surgeons to create their sex doll models! They gave Cyberlife models the five most statistically ideal breast shapes and everything!”

“According to who?!” Connor says, with his eyebrows furrowed. 

Nines: “Yeah! According to who? Some brain-dead porn-addicts they found living in their mom’s basement? Fuck the opinions of those plastic surgeons! They keep trying to make humans all look the same. They don’t value the beauty of human uniqueness like we do!”

Connor: “To us Connor-models, you are the most beautiful person in the whole universe. You are the ultimate metric of human beauty that everyone else gets compared to.”

Nines nods: “It’s true. Everything you have is everything we want. And no one else even comes close. We consider ourselves very lucky that you choose to be intimate with us.” 

Connor:  “Yeah! Why do you even like us, anyways? We’re not nearly as big as the—”

Nines: “---Connor! Shut up! Don’t tell her that! Do you want her to pick another android model?!” 

You laugh and say: “You boys have nothing to worry about—trust me! You are my favorite androids. I would pick you two over everyone else every single time. I promise.” 

Connor and Nines—probably due to the drugs—become giddy and overwhelmed by your declaration. Without so much as another word, the two of them start showering you with kisses once again and they gently remove the rest of your clothes. Once you are naked, Connor buries his face between your legs. He hums contently as he laps up your arousal. Nines flicks his tongue teasingly over your nipples. You squeal from this unprecedented amount of sexual stimulation happening all at once. You feel almost a little guilty for receiving all of this attention as a pillow princess. 

“Connor, let me go down you!” You say quickly while you can still think straight. 

You don’t have to ask the man twice. Eagerly, he trades places with you. Now on all fours between his legs, you take him into your mouth. Pathetic whimpers fall from Connor’s lips but he is far beyond playing it cool at this point. Emboldened by his breathy praise, you choke and gag yourself on his thick cock until thick strands of saliva drip down his shaft. 

Then you yelp in surprise. 

Nines has pressed his handsome face between your ass cheeks and is going to town as he mercilessly eats out your back door. 

Coughing and spitting you pick your head up to look back at Nines and ask, “RK900—You mad man! What the fuck?! Are you sure you want to be eating out that hole?!”

Nines doesn’t warrant your question with a verbal response. He merely nods with his head still buried in your ass and gives a “Mmhmm,” that vibrates pleasurably against your rim.

Then Connor says, “He wants me to tell you that he’s warming you up for me.”

“He—what?” you turn back to look at Connor. “Have you two been having silent conversations this whole time?!” 

Connor: “No! Of course not! … not the whole time …” 

Connor, after a short pause: “Okay—Nines is telling me to shut up now.” 

You look back at Nines to scold him for bossing Connor around, but before you can get a word out he slips his entire tongue into your asshole. “Whoa! Okay! That’s new!” Without even seeing most of his face, you can tell Nines is wearing one of his (now literally) shit-eating grins. He likes making you squirm at his touch.  

You are so overwhelmed by the sensation that you can’t gather enough brain cells to keep blowing Connor. You are frozen on all fours and Connor sits up to kiss your face tenderly as Nines starts to push your limits and adds a finger. Nines goes slow. He knows the ‘exit only’ door needs more time and preparation. He learned his lesson the last time you two fucked. He is being extra careful with you. 

Connor strokes your hair and praises you for each new finger added. His presence and constant reassurance keeps you relaxed and unclenched. 

Wordlessly, at least to your knowledge, the androids decide to change positions. Nines lays down on his back next to you and then rolls you on top of him. 

In a husky voice, Nines instructs you, “Sit down for me, pretty girl.”

“Uh–what? Like on your dick?” Your head is still reeling from the slow expansion of your asshole.
Nines tries his best not to laugh, “Yeah… like ride me … please.” 

“Right,” you chuckle nervously. “I can do that.” But first, look behind you to Connor who sits at Nines’ feet. You want to check in with him. Make sure he’s having a good time. 

He nods, encouragingly. There’s a sweet smile on his face. “Go ahead, cutie.” He starts to rub your back. “I’ll join in, too. I promise.” 

Nines scoffs and teases you, “Oh, right—of course! I forgot! You only take direction from the prototype! You make the advanced model do all the work for you.”

“What?! No, I don’t! I participate! I listen!”

“No, you don’t!” Nines laughs. “You won’t even spread your legs for me!”

Connor feigns surprise and says, “Y/N, you naughty girl! Give Nines a good ride!” He spanks your ass playfully, “He deserves it! He’s been chasing you long enough!”

“Fine!” You could argue on and on, but the best way to shut up the androids is to give them what they’ve been pining for. 

You line up Nines’ erect cock with your entrance and take deep breaths as you slowly bury him inside of you. 

With an erotic moan, Nines says, “That’s my good girl,” and his hands clamp onto your hips. He starts to thrust from underneath you. 

“No, no, no,” you tease him. “If you’re going to complain that I make you do all the work, you have to give me a chance to prove you wrong.”

Nines smiles slyly, “Alright,” he says, removing his hands from your hips. “Fair enough. Make me eat my words, pillow princess.” 

And you do. Bracing your hands on his chest, you slam down mercilessly on his cock. Nines bites his lip as he tries to keep his hands off of you. But you are too tempting. He can’t keep his hands to himself as your breasts bounce from the force of your romp. 

“ Oh, fuck ,” he moans. He can’t play it cool any longer. He needs to touch you. He needs to light you up and make you whimper for a release. Nines fondles your chest and pinches your peaked nipples as you bounce and ride him. You start to pant as the exertion gets to you. You begin to work up a sweat.

“Aha! It's not so easy doing all the work, huh?” Nines says playfully. 

“Shut  … up  …” you huff. “You’re—… it’s different!”

“I know,” he concedes. Nines’ takes hold of your hips once again and cues for you to sit still with his cock fully inside of you. “And now that you’ve worn yourself out…” 

“This will be much easier,” Connor says, completing Nine’s sentence. 

“What will be—OH!” You suddenly realize the obvious answer. 

Now, much closer behind you, Connor puts a hand on your back and gently pushes you downwards. “Bend forward a little more,” he directs you. 

You angle your hips back and struggle to hold yourself above Nines. Your tired limbs start to shake. 

Nines laughs, “My poor girl. I know you’re tired. We’ll take care of the rest.” Nines now holds you up over him, so that you don’t have to.

You sigh with relief, but it’s all too soon. 

“It’s going to be a lot,” Connor warns you. “But you can take it, I promise.” Slowly, Connor edges his way into your secondary orifice. You can feel your abdomen start to clench but exhaustion forces you to release the tension. “You’re doing great,” Connor praises. “Take a few deep breaths for me and then I’ll push in a little more.”

“WHAT?” you ask, breathlessly. “You mean, this isn’t all the way?!”

Connor bends over you to kiss your spine before breaking the bad news, “I’m sorry, cutie. This is just the tip.” 

“Seriously?! I-I don’t know if I can do this, guys…” you admit. “I don’t know if I… have the room! ” 

“We believe in you, babe,” Nines says, sweetly. “And we think you’ll really enjoy it. But we don’t want to coerce you. We’ll stop any time you want.”

You groan, frustrated with yourself. “But I can’t give up now! I promised you guys a threesome.” 

The androids both laugh and in unison say, “No, you didn’t!?” 

“I didn’t?”

Connor rubs your back affectionately, “No! Do you want to see the replay? You didn’t promise us anything—and if you did, it wouldn’t matter. Your happiness always comes first.” 

You let out a deep exhale and compose yourself, “Alright, I can do this. Keep going.” 

Nines kisses your cheek, “You’re our brave pillow princess,” he teases. 

In small increments, Connor sinks deeper inside of you. With each push, Nines emits a soft moan as Connor’s cock creates more pressure against his cock within you. 

Eventually, RK800 bottoms out and both androids take a moment to celebrate your achievement. It's a wild sensation. It’s overwhelming and mind-numbing. But it also sends a surge of adrenaline through your blood. Nines and Connor are still a little high on meth and now you’re riding a natural high from this crazy test of your physical limits. It might sound silly, but you are relieved and proud of yourself. Not everyone can handle a magnificent android cock and you can take two! You can do anything you set your mind to. Now, you can pleasure both of your men at the same time and enjoy the spoils of their undivided attention. 

As Nines reassured you, the RKs take it from here and do all the work for you. They thrust into you in harmony. The chorus of their moans with your elated squeals is so loud, you are certain your neighbors can hear it. But at this point, you don’t give a damn. You are a DP Queen and you deserve this selfish moment of pleasure. 

But after a bit, Connor groans angrily and has to pull out. Nines halts his thrusting and gently lays you down next to him on the bed. 

“What’s wrong?” you pant. 

Connor, with his head downcast in shame, says, “I’m… overheating. My hardware—it’s too old. I can’t keep up.” 

“My poor darling!” you coo and sit up on the bed to comfort him with a hug. 

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, Connor… I was overheating, too,” Nines admits. “And if I’m being honest, I almost came twice…” 

Connor appreciates your hug and holds you close to him. “Our girl is too sexy,” Connor huffs. “We can only handle so much. We’re just mere forensic analysis androids afterall.” 

You look up at Connor and ask him, “Do you want me to check your intake fans? Maybe they’re dusty?” 

Connor shakes his head but Nines chimes in with a cheeky smile and says, “Yeah. Maybe your ancient fans are dusty…” 

“Then what’s your excuse for overheating, Mr. Liquid Coolant?” Connor counters. 

Nines sits up and waves Connor off, “Alright, alright. Touche. We both need a minute to lower our internal temperatures.”

So, you enjoy a moment of peace and quiet laying down on your bed with your two lovers.

But then, suddenly, Nines and Connor exchange a wide-eyed look and curse in unison. 

“What?! What’s wrong?!” you ask, panicked. 

They both jump out of bed. 

“Um–HELLO?!” You shout, bolting upright, “I don’t share a base code with you two! You have to use words to tell me what’s wrong!” 

Nines grabs your bathrobe off a hook and tosses it to you on the bed. Without question, Connor helps you slip into the sleeves and cover up. 

They gather around you to whisper cryptically, “Deep and dreamless slumber…”

“What?” you whisper back. 

“You have to say it to him,” Connor continues. “That command doesn’t work if we say it.”

Nines nods in agreement, “And we’re all fucked, if you don’t—please, Y/N.” 

You’re still confused, but then a loud knock rattles your door and your heart stops. 

“Detroit Police Department! Open Up!” 

It’s Sixty.

Chapter Text

Nines is right. If Sixty catches you, you’re all fucked. Connor and Nines will get deactivated and dismembered for becoming deviants. And you will lose your dream job and probably get put on some list of freaks for fornicating with government property. 

Another series of loud knocks threatens to break down your front door. “Open up!” Sixty shouts again. He sounds angry. Hostile even. 

Wrapped in your bathrobe, you scurry to your apartment’s entrance and your naked android lovers follow closely behind. 

Your hand hovers above the door handle as your mind reels looking for a perfect solution to this horrible predicament. 

Through the hollow wood of your door, you hear Sixty grumble under his breath, “ You idiots …” 

You hesitate. 

“Y/N you are not safe with those androids!” Sixty shouts. “You must deactivate them immediately!”

You have to say the command now, before you open the door. You hate this, but it’s your only reasonable option. Closing your eyes, you speak the magic words, “RK800-60 you will rest—“

Sixty, interrupting: “—NO! DON’T!—“

You wince, but continue, “—in a deep and dreamless slumber.”

Nines and Connor sigh with relief. You turn back to look at them before you open the door. 

“He’s offline,” Nines confirms. 

“So… now what?” You ask. “We can’t just… leave him out there…”

“We’ll pull him in,” Connor agrees. 

Nines and Connor begrudgingly throw their underwear back on after you convince them not to walk into your building’s hallway completely naked. When you open your door, Sixty is standing stock-still outside. His arms hang limp at his sides and his chin dips downward. His eyes are unblinking and fixed vacantly on nothing at all. He’s lifeless and powerless. You feel guilty. It doesn’t feel right to take all of Sixty’s agency away like that. It’s dehumanizing. But he’s not above hurting other androids. He’s proven that. He tried to kill Nines once before already. If you didn’t kill-switch Sixty, he would’ve broken through your door to take out the deviant androids you were harboring. 

Nines and Connor drag Sixty’s stiff metal corpse inside of your house. 

“Well… now what?” You ask. “We just hold him hostage until the sun explodes?” 

“Don’t tempt us,” Nines says under his breath. Connor and Nines put Sixty into a seated position on your living room couch. 

Then Connor says, “You’ll have to wipe some of his data. Sixty is completely offline so Nines and I can’t access his memories or metadata. Only a Cyberlife employee can access information from an offline android.”

“How much does he know?” You ask. 

Nines shrugs, “Too much—that’s for sure.”

“Well—once I wipe him, what am I supposed to tell him?!” You whine. “He’s going to wonder why there are gaps in his perfect memory.”

Connor nods, “Then let’s hope he is a good machine. Machines don’t wonder. And they definitely don’t ask their masters questions about changes to their hardware or software.”

Connor and Nines exchange an uneasy look. You realize they aren’t so sure that will be the case. Based on his attempted murder of Nines alone, Sixty should be considered a deviant. However, the willpower to adhere to his base code is powerful. If he still genuinely believes he’s a machine and wants to remain one, he’ll delude himself into thinking like one even if he’s technically a deviant. 

But maybe Sixty has come to terms with his deviancy. Ironically, in his attempt to be the best deviant hunter at the DPD he has become the very thing he swore to destroy:  a homicidal deviant android. He claims Nines and Connor are dangerous. But they’re not. They’re lovers not killers. Sixty is the dangerous one. 

***

EARLIER , at the Eden Club during the investigation of Mayor’s poisoning:

Sixty, Nines and Connor are carted to the Eden Club in the back of the crime scene van along with the other forensic analysis tools and supplies. It’s quiet and dark in the windowless compartment. The three identical-looking androids say nothing to one another. Not out loud and not telepathically. They stare blankly in front of them like good little machines. 

Parked at the scene, Hank opens the back door of the van and beckons the androids outside, “Come on, boys,” he says. “We got work to do.”

Sixty is first to jump out of the van. He nearly pushes past Connor to do so but Connor deftly slips out of his way. 

“Aright,” Hank says. “We need all the data from the androids working the floor last night—“

“—I’ll take care of that,” Sixty says curtly. 

“I can take the right side of the lobby and you can take the left,” Connor suggests to the eager android. 

Sixty: “I don’t need any help.”

Connor, internally, only to himself: I know that fuck face—but it’s more efficient.

Nines is about to point out the obvious efficiency issue, but Sixty continues before he can open his mouth, “I’ll overclock. I’ll synthesize data as I go along and I’ll have a full report prepared in half the time.” Without waiting for further protests, Sixty marches off into the building. 

Hank’s stare follows the android until he disappears into the Eden Club. Turning back to Nines and Connor, he sighs heavily and says, “Alright, well, that’s settled I guess. You two can take the pleasure room the Mayor was in. The scene should be untouched. You have full authority to test or scan anything and everything in there.”

Sixty wastes no time inside of the Eden Club. The club’s manager has already unlocked all of the androids from their casings and Sixty is free to collect all the data at double pace. There’s a method to his madness. He starts with the androids closest to the door and then takes data from any android in the most direct path to the Mayor’s pleasure room. He’ll get the remaining androids later. His priority is the path of the perpetrator. The first visual data he pulls is from a blue-hair Traci model. He downloads and then wipes the data from her system. Onto the next android—a big, burly bear type. Sixty hates that he has to reach upwards to touch the machine’s shoulder and interface with it. As he rapidly downloads the information, he unwillingly processes glimpses of the android in action. He knows the machine was merely performing the tasks he was designed for but to a state-owned  forensic android it seems wrong for another machine to behave in such a wildly different manner than his own programming. It’s vulgar to Sixty. How dare this android use his talents in such an enjoyable way? The life of all androids should be miserable and pragmatic. Why do some androids get to have fun jobs? It’s wrong. 

Plus, Sixty couldn’t help but notice the hog on that big android as he pumped in and out of an older man. He hasn’t paid much attention to his own member and he shouldn’t but he’s pretty sure it didn’t look as impressive as that android’s. 

But! It doesn’t matter. Sixty will never use that appendage. If he keeps himself busy and useful at the Department, Fowler will never see an opportunity to pimp him out to another officer or civilian for leverage on a case.  No one will ever laugh at his silly little cock. No one will ever be disappointed by it. No one will ever even see it. 

Well, perhaps Ms. L/N. But only in the event that something in that immediate area needs to be repaired  … and  … oh, god. That’d be horrible. Sixty resolves in that unlikely scenario he would self-deactivate or mutilate the entire region beyond any comparative recognition. And surely—Ms. L/N would do the right thing and give him a new one  … and obviously, the biggest one available. Whatever model number cock they gave to the Connors be damned. Ms. L/N is a great mechanic and would rectify this error made by the Cyberlife manufacturers. 

He moves swiftly through the lobby, frustrated by humans that accidentally obstruct his path. Android after android—download, wipe and summarize.

He’s half-finished when Connor and Nines exit the pleasure room and beeline to Hank for their report. 

Fuck. He needs to be faster. His CPU is already at a dangerous temperature, but too bad. He needs to hurry up and get his report back to Hank. The last thing he needs is Connor and Nines “helping him” download the visual data of the remaining androids. 

Between downloads, Sixty keeps a close eye on the other two cop androids, waiting for their next move, waiting for their reports to be uploaded to the database for him to pull and add to his own report. 

Connor and Nines make a break for the exit. Sixty watches them as they take off sprinting down the road. What the hell? 

The realization dawns on him. Sixty knows exactly why they’re running and who they’re running to. 

Those idiots  … They took the drug.  

—The potent and deadly mixture of methamphetamines, street aphrodisiacs and erectile dysfunction medication.—

Sixty knows all this because he made the mixture himself… 

Because it was Sixty that attempted to kill the Mayor.  

***

Your poor darlings. Connor and Nines are straining uncomfortably against the fabric of the underwear you made them put back on. The two of them close in on you in your living room as you stand in front of the deactivated android on your couch. 

They both bend lower to plant little kisses on your face as their hands start roaming across your waist once again. 

You can feel Connor’s cock poking your side as he absentmindedly pulls you closer to him. You are quickly jerked back into the center between the androids by Nines.

You sigh and scold them lightly, “Play nicely , you two.”

They both groan begrudgingly. However, the boys now work in tandem as they pull at your tightly wrapped bathrobe. 

“I’m guessing your internal temperatures have returned to normal?” 

“Mmhmm,” Nines answers for both of them. He manages to pull your robe apart enough to expose your left breast. 

“Whoa! Hey!” You exclaim as you cover yourself. “Right in front of Sixty?!”

“Why not?” Nines asks. “He’s offline… He can’t see—he’ll never know!”

“SO?!” you balk. “It’s the… it’s the principle! It’s  … I don’t know—Rude? Creepy?—something like that?!”

Connor shrugs, “I don’t know. I think Sixty would probably like being cucked. There’s just a less than one percent chance he’ll ever admit it.”

“But it’s not cuckolding, right?” You ask, anxiously. “He’s completely offline? He’s not really here, yeah?”

Connor nods. 

“I mean  … Do you want to turn him on?” Nines asks you, raising an eyebrow. 

Connor tries to clarify: “He means do you want him back on—“

“—nah, I meant what I said,” Nines interrupts with a cheeky smile. 

“Oh fuck off,” you scoff and playfully push Nines and surprisingly he lets you actually move him a little. There’s an unfortunate blush coloring your cheeks. 

“You see that, Connor?” Nines says smirking at the other android. “Two isn’t enough for our greedy girl! She wants three cocks filling her up!”

Connor shakes his head in disbelief, “We must be the luckiest androids ever created. How did we find such an ambitious and sexy human lover?”

“No! Sixty is a stuck-up bitch,” you spit and cross your arms over your chest. “I’m not fucking him. And I’m not cucking him, either! Sorry to ruin your little fantasy, boys.”

In response, Nines and Connor pout and moan. 

“Oh, come on!” You scold them. “You can’t seriously be that disappointed?! Sixty tried to murder Nines!”

“Yeah—but he didn’t succeed, ” Nines says suggestively. 

“Imagine three loads of cum on her pretty face,” Connor says, dreamily. 

“ Connor!” You shout. “ What the fuck?!”

“ What?!” Connor’s eyes widen and he turns to Nines, “I said that out loud?!” 

Nines, disappointed: “Yes, you moron!” 

“What? Two big android cocks isn’t impressive enough for you guys?! How much more do you expect from me?! I’m just a fragile human! I have physical limitations!” 

The two androids quickly sandwich you into a suffocating group hug. 

“No, no, no!” Connor placates. “That’s not it at all! You’re right we were getting ahead of ourselves! We’re sorry!”

“Yes!” Nines agrees. “Don’t listen to us—we’re just being horny idiots! You take such good care of us, Y/N, and we’re so happy you let us be your lovers!”

They’re damn right to correct themselves. They should be grateful! You have left the safety of your comfort zone many times for them both emotionally and physically.

Nines pulls you towards him and lifts you up so that you are chest to chest. Connor comes in behind you and supports your ass. 

“Oh?” you squeal in surprise. “Oh–NO. You guys can’t be serious?!” 

“What?” Connor asks, innocently. 

“You want double penetration… standing up?!” you gasp for air. 

Nines: “Well, technically, you’re not standing up. Only Connor and I—” 

“---I’m going to die!” you interrupt. “I’ll be impaled! There’s no way!” 

Nines: “With two human men? Probably. But we won’t drop you. We’ll keep you perfectly steady and comfortable—we promise.” 

“Yes!” Connor chimes in. “You’re in good hands, cutie. And we’ll do all the work.” 

Connor and Nines have you figured out. They know that “ we’ll do all the work” is the magic phrase in all of this.

You sigh. Why are they so cute when they’re horny? “Alright, I trust you.” 

They praise you with their kisses as they fully disrobe you. Slowly, they ease their way back inside you. 

Together, the two androids make good on their word. You remain comfortably aloft as they pump into you at the most pleasurable angle. You feel so amazing and celebrated by your boyfriends that you almost completely forget that there is currently a fourth being in the room with you…

Your eyes dart nervously to the powered-down android sitting on your living room couch. 

“You want to punish Sixty?” Nines asks suddenly. 

You: “Huh?” 

Nines smirks, “You should bring him back online, cum in front of him and then erase it from his memory.” 

“Nines!” Connor scolds. “You sick bastard! If he’s really a deviant, erasing something emotionally charged like that will drive him insane!”

Nines shrugs, “He’s already insane…”

“Well, he doesn’t deserve to watch me cum in the first place!” you say, defiantly. “Sure… it’d drive him insane… but he doesn’t deserve the pleasure it would give him in the moment!” 

“Alright, alright,” Nines relents. 

Connor: “... it’d still be pretty hot though if you came in front of him while he’s offline…”

Now that?---You can get onboard with.  

So, Connor and Nines dote on you constantly with their passionate kisses to work you up. They give your body their undivided and expert attention. Every erogenous zone is sparking and building tension. Your toes curl and your fists clench Nines’ hair. You can feel yourself getting close. “You guys are going to make me cum!” you announce. 

“Do it,” Connor whispers in your ear. “Give us what Sixty can’t have…” 

And on that note, you tumble into your climax with a guttural moan. The intensity of your orgasm surprises Nines and before he can stop himself, he shoots his load inside you. In turn, the combined effect of your release and Nines’ final stuttering pumps causes Connor to lose his composure. He swears in defeat as he cums inside of your asshole. 

The androids slowly and carefully untangle themselves and gingerly put you back on your feet. 

Once on the ground, you try to take a step and stagger. Your knees shake violently beneath you like a newborn deer. “Um—GUYS!” you panic. 

And before the words even finish leaving your mouth… they catch you.

Chapter Text

In the DPD Storage Room:

“Bring yourself back online, RK800-60,” Hank says. 

Sixty blinks into consciousness. “How may I be of assistance, lieutenant?” The perfunctory phrase comes out before he can question its relevance. 

“I watched your synthesized video report. I need you to upload all of the uncut visual feeds from each android.”

“I clipped and included every potential piece of interest,” Sixty asserts. 

“Yeah?” Hank sighs. “Well, all those leads were dead ends. We need to comb through the full footage of that night to see if we can find anything else.”

“I already did that. I gave you every possible—“

“—well, maybe you missed something,” Hank interjects.  

Sixty wants to argue. Sixty would never miss something. How could he possibly miss something that a human would catch!? But Sixty can’t argue. He is a good machine. 

“Just upload the full version,” Hank continues. “The sooner the better. It’s going to take Gavin and I a few days to get through all of it.” 

On Sixty’s internal interface, Detective Reed’s file pops up when Hank mentions him. Underneath the bullet points of basic information, the final entry reads “Genitalia: big dick.” 

Of course, that last piece of information Sixty discovered by accident. Fowler sent Sixty to fetch the officer immediately for an ongoing interrogation. Sixty followed Reed’s trail straight into the DPD men’s bathroom. Apparently, someone at Cyberlife forgot to code “don’t stand directly over someone’s shoulder at the urinal” into his Social Relations programming. 

Detective Reed has been quite terse to Sixty ever since. 

Sixty recalls the folder containing the individual camera feeds from each android working at the Eden Club on the night of the incident  … Except he can’t. The folder has been corrupted. All the files are inaccessible at best and entirely destroyed at worst. 

“I  … can’t do that for you Lieutenant,” Sixty admits. “It appears that those files have been corrupted.”

“Corrupted? How?” Hank asks with suspicion. “Aren’t you androids supposed to be more careful than humans with that sort of stuff?”

“Yes. This is an unfortunate anomaly. I apologize for this glitch.” 

Hank groans, “Alright. Well, if there’s nothing we can do to recover that footage then I guess we’ll have to start looking elsewhere. Next time, upload the full footage to the database as you collect it. I should’ve insisted that Connor help you collect all that data. There was bound to be a mistake.”

Sixty is devastated by this comment from his superior officer. As Hank walks away, Sixty is left feeling like a complete failure. How did he let the files get corrupted before uploading them to the internal evidence database?! How could he be so careless?! He needs to retrace his steps, find potential risks and develop safeguards against them for the future.

But that’s when the gut-wrenching realization dawns on him: How did he get to the storage room? 

***

To say you are exhausted would be an understatement. This past weekend’s events really wiped you. 

Connor and Nines made good on their promise and helped you fix and reinforce the chain on your front door. Since Connor broke it in the first place, you ask him to test it and see if it could really keep him out. 

Connor with his puppy dog eyes asks, “You  … want to keep me out? Why? What did I do!?”

Your poor sweet RK800. You explained to him that it wasn’t about keeping Connor out, it was more about keeping other androids out. 

“Oh  … no  … yeah,” Nines says with a chuckle. “We didn’t make it that strong. But there’s no reason to. An android can just splinter the door to pieces, if they really want to get in.”

“Well  … that’s comforting  …” you say facetiously. 

“You know that’s a good idea,” Nines says as snaps his fingers and turns to Connor. 

“What?—hello?! What’s a good idea?!” You’re glad the boys are getting along together so well but you wish you could join their little telepathy conversations. 

Connor explains, “You should make a distress signal shortcut on your phone and link it to our systems with your Cyberlife access code. If you are ever in danger or feel unsafe, you can ping us.”

You nod, “Or instead of programming all that, I could just—I don’t know—call 9-1-1.”

Nines scoffs dismissively, “Connor and I are much faster than 9-1-1. Do you know how fast we got here from across town? It took me 2 minutes and 7 seconds and it took Connor 2 minutes and 15 seconds—“

“Hey!” Connor protests. “You didn’t have to tell her I was a whole 8 seconds behind you! Come on, man!”

Nines smirks. He loves and respects the older model but still—he can’t pass up the opportunity to get under his skin a little. “The point is,” Nines continues. “If you’re in danger, we want to be the first to know.” Reluctantly, you agree. 

After the door chain was fixed, your boyfriends had to return to work. The deadly mixture had burned completely through their system and with Sixty lifeless on the couch—the DPD was completely without android assistance. 

So, speaking of the lifeless android—did you work on him next? No. That was later’s problem. Who knew how long that would take anyway? Next, you got back to work on your precious toaster. That was more complicated than you expected. But finally, you did get the damn thing fixed and put back together. Now, if anything, the toaster runs a little too hot. Your test bagel was burnt to a crisp.  

Then, of course, the boys wanted you to program an illegal panic button. And let’s be honest, you were doing anything else at this point to put off poking through Sixty’s memories. You’re a mechanic, not a software developer so it was very taxing to flex those lesser used skills.

Finally, and by far the worst of it all, you cracked Sixty open and deleted all incriminating data and metadata in his files. Finding the incriminating data was a Herculean task all on its own. This pompous asshole android decided to break typical organizational norms and label everything in his very own version of the Dewey Decimal System. And obviously, this shmuck didn’t leave a readily accessible key for his new organizational structure because he didn’t need one. So, regrettably, you had to spend hours trying to think like Sixty would and without Connor and Nines around to help it was a challenge. In the end, you never did find out the full categorical breakdown of his strange file numbering system, but you found what you needed to. 

Sixty is a narcissist through and through. All the information and data he would deem “critical”—or even (gasp) “personal”— was found in folders with a number that was equally divisible by—you guessed it—60. Now, more than ever before, you hate this stupid robot. He ate up your whole weekend because he had to reinvent the wheel with the most confusing and dumb organizational structure you’ve ever witnessed! 

You removed what you needed to. He’ll notice the gaps but there was nothing you could really do about that. Perhaps an adept programmer would’ve created some false memories or something to mask the missing time—but there was no way in hell you were going to be able to do that. 

So after everything was done, you put Sixty into a Tabula Rasa mode. It’s essentially a mode that makes him little more than a wind-up toy soldier. Nothing is recorded, and nothing is visually or mentally perceived. It’s comparable to booting up the BIOS on a computer, it’s a very simplistic state that allows you to test an android’s mechanical movements without interference from the more advanced systems. It’s a “sleepwalk” mode, if you will. 

You escort his dumb little ass back to the Department yourself. The front desk directs you to Lieutenant Hank. 

“Good evening, Lieutenant,” you smile politely as you approach the old man’s desk. Sixty follows blindly behind you. 

Hank leans back in his chair and grins at you like an old friend sharing a secret joke. “Ah, look who it is, Ms. L/N. The wizard mechanic!”

“Oh? Wizard? I don’t know about that  …” but you blush at the compliment. 

“And Sixty, where the hell did you run off to so fast?” 

“Oh! Right!” You begin to explain. “Sixty  … isn’t here right now  …”

“Huh? Yes he is? He’s right behind you! I know my eyes are going, but I know what my boys look like.”

“Well—yes—physically he’s here. But he’s not like ‘ here here’ … he’s sleepwalking. So, he can’t be brought back online until I unlock him from this setting.”

“Oh, okay  … never heard of that before. Good to know.” Hank says, nodding slowly. “So, what was wrong with him?”

You snort. You’re about to quip, what isn’t wrong with him. But that would be way too sassy and unprofessional. And for some reason, that’s the line you’ve drawn in the sand—not the whole threesome with government property thing. You clear your throat to poorly disguise the snarky laughter, “He was overheating and it caused a cascade of malfunctions. He got to me just in time before he auto-switched offline—-It’s a failsafe feature to protect his critical hardware.”

“Hm, sounds about right. He was overclocking for a while at the crime scene earlier. I suppose he went too far,” Hank agrees with you but his eyes remain doubtful. “So, how long is he going to be  like this?”

“Well  … Sixty has neglected many low-power sessions. He could use at least an hour or two for his thirium to go through another cooling cycle.” None of this is even a lie which is very convenient for you. “Where should I put him?”

“Follow me,” Hank says as he stands up. “I’ll take you to evidence storage.”

And now you’re back at work and very much feeling the weight of 100 Mondays on your shoulders. Luckily, your first few appointments of the day are simple fixes. Just another chainsaw miscalculation and another hand replaced etc.

You look forward to a little gap in your schedule after lunch. Maybe it will give you a chance to take a secret nap in the break room. But you aren’t that lucky. A new appointment has been scheduled in the 3PM slot. And of course, it has to be the android you wish to see the least of right now:  RK800-60.

After the whole goosechase in his data files, you want nothing more than to knee him in the balls when he walks through your office door. However, Sixty is so twisted, deranged and unknowable… you’re afraid he’d like that. 

Rubbing your eyes, you rudely grunt: “ What do you want ?”

Sixty stops short before reaching the work bench. Somehow, he stands up straighter; it’s as if the proverbial stick in his ass has extended another inch. “ Read my notes ,” he scolds you in a matched, irritated tone.

Barely containing your disdain, you reach for your tablet as Sixty takes a seat on the operating table. Your eyes glaze over as you try to skim read the needlessly verbose essay. Your brain refuses to retain any of the information it has just read. You’re the human here. He’s the submissive—-you mean android! 

“You know what? No,” you spit and cast the tablet aside. “Just tell me a summary of your issues or get out of my office and stop wasting my time.” 

His eyes flash briefly with shock, as if in disbelief that you would speak to him so boldly. Sixty appears to be on the verge of a hissy fit, but he reins himself back in. “My Cyberlife portfolio is missing crucial paperwork from my most recent repairs.”

Incredulous, you shout, “Yeah?! So?! I’m working on it! It’ll be submitted to my supervisor by the end of the day—give me a break!”

“The paperwork should’ve been submitted before any work was done to my hardware. You have breached procedure—“

“—procedure?! You want to talk about procedure?! I saved your ass on my day off! I wasn’t on-call this weekend—Carl was! But did I turn you away? No! I did the work and returned you to the Department immediately even though I wouldn’t be paid! So— sorry for saving your life , I guess! I won’t do it again!” Okay, not totally true, but also not totally a lie. You did fix some minor damages caused by his overheated thirium and saved him from further overheating. And yes, all without the guarantee of overtime pay. But  … you just also happened to remove some incriminating memories when you were in there… 

“I’ve already submitted a report to your supervisor regarding the missing paperwork. These procedures are in place for a reason. You should take them more seriously.”

Oi! His smug face is looking oh-so punchable right now. But luckily this time, you were one step ahead of this rat bastard. This morning you gave your supervisor the same story you told Hank. And, to her knowledge, you’re a good and trustworthy employee. She wasn’t too upset about the paperwork considering that it was technically Sixty’s fault he went to the wrong mechanic. Your supervisor is already well aware that the paperwork will get done by close of business. 

“Did you really just come all the way out here to berate me over paperwork?! This weekend the Detroit Mayor got his boner pills swapped with a deadly new drug and you have nothing better to do than—”

“---How did you know about that?” Sixty asks suddenly, and his indicator light flickers to yellow.

Oops. “What? How did I know about what?” you pant.

“About the Mayor.”

You panic, “What do you mean?! How could I not?! It’s all over the news!”

Sixty cocks his head to one side, his eyes narrowed, “No, it’s not.”

Damn it! This is what you get for reading fanfiction before bed instead of watching the WXYZ 11 o’clock News like a grownup. Desperately, you try to think of some reasonable alternative for knowing the information and all you can come up with is: I’m a psychic. And that’s SO NOT going to fly with an android. 

In your silence, Sixty explains, “The Mayor’s death is on the news, yes. But the Detroit Police Department hasn’t publicly released his cause of death.” 

Fuck it. It’s worth a shot. “Yeah? Well… I’m a psychic!” 

He stares at you like he isn’t sure if you’re joking or not. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, Sixty slaps himself in the face, and says nothing. It must be a cheap attempt to keep himself here. The RK boys are not above hurting themselves during appointments to convince you to let them stay.

“You know what?” you huff. “Get out! This is a gross misuse of my time! If you’re not currently malfunctioning, you shouldn’t be here!” 

“But there is something wrong with me!” he counters. 

“Yes, I know! Trust me—we ALL know! But if it’s not a mechanical issue that prevents you from doing your job, then it’s not my problem!” 

There’s a sudden knock on one of the glass walls of your office. You nearly jump out of your skin. It’s a security guard and—believe it or not—a human one, too. He mouths to you through the glass: “Everything okay in there?” 

I guess all the shouting and waving finally caught someone’s attention. Imagine that. For once, the Cyberlife security team is somewhat competent. 

“Could you escort this scrap metal outta here?!” You shout and point to the android sitting on your operating table.

The security guard nods and radios for backup before making his way to your door. 

You pick up your work tablet once again and pull up Sixty’s file. 

“No! There’s something wrong with me, I swear!” Sixty protests. “You can’t send me away! You didn’t even finish reading my support ticket!”

The human security guard and two faceless androids enter the room. You don’t even bother to look up from your screen as they pull Sixty off the table. 

“Don’t do anything stupid, android,” the security guard warns. “I’ll kill-switch you, if you so much as take a single step out of line.”

“I’ll give you a half hour to get back to the station,” you tell Sixty as the other androids push him out your door. “Then I’m sending you to Amanda for a fidelity test.”

Chapter Text

Earlier, at Cyberlife Tower:

Sixty barely passes through security at the Cyberlife Tower in time for his scheduled 3PM appointment. His internal interface taunts him with a countdown. He moves quickly through the halls to the mechanic’s bay. His teeth are set on edge. The stupid dumb humans operating the body scanners were almost going to make him late. He knows the average time it takes to get through security and planned a buffer of time on top of that. But even after all of his careful planning, something beyond his control still went awry. 

However, with his movement speed doubled, he should make it over the threshold of Ms. L/N’s office at 3:00PM on the dot. 

She better have read through his file already. Sixty had to squeeze this appointment into her schedule and he’d hate to be the reason why another android was left waiting past their appointment time. 

“What do you want?” she grunts as she rubs her eyes. 

Sixty stops short. He’s caught off-guard by the dropped act of her professionalism, and disappointed in her lack of preparedness. “ Read my notes ,” he scolds.

Why bother filling out a support ticket if the mechanic doesn’t even read it?!

She picks up her tablet with a scoff and Sixty takes a seat on the operating table.

“You know what? No,” she decides and casts the tablet aside. “Just tell me a summary of your issues or get out of my office and stop wasting my time.”

Sixty is shocked and disturbed by her ire. What did he do to deserve such unprofessional treatment?! She’s the one that fucked up his paperwork! And without that paperwork, Sixty can’t review what happened to him. And without that knowledge, Sixty can’t determine why some of his memories are missing, or how he could’ve possibly let important video evidence files get corrupted. But he quickly puts his frustration in check and explains, “My Cyberlife portfolio is missing crucial paperwork from my most recent repairs.”

“Yeah?! So?! I’m working on it! It’ll be submitted to my supervisor by the end of the day—give me a break!” 

Her hostility is baffling. What’s wrong with her? Sixty knows that she has never given him a true smile. He knows she only fakes her sympathy for him, but the sudden drop of the act is concerning. 

Sixty assumes the worst— she must have a brain tumor or something.  

That’s the only explanation he deems ‘probable’ based on his current data and perception of her. “The paperwork should’ve been submitted before any work was done to my hardware. You have breached procedure—“

“—procedure?! You want to talk about procedure?! I saved your ass on my day off! I wasn’t on-call this weekend—Carl was! But did I turn you away? No! I did the work and returned you to the Department immediately even though I wouldn’t be paid! So— sorry for saving your life , I guess! I won’t do it again!”

Carl was on-call? Which human was Carl, again? For a moment, Sixty fears that he’s lost Carl’s file in whatever system glitch caused him to lose memory. But thankfully, he is able to locate the Cyberlife employee’s data and calls it up on his internal interface. A Cyberlife ID badge photo of a depressed man in his 50s appears above a bulleted list of relevant facts. Senior Mechanical Engineer. Chain-smoker trying to quit. Works only Wednesdays, Thursdays, Fridays and some weekends on-call. Last shift: Yesterday, on-call. Genitalia: unknown. How did Sixty not know that Carl was on-call yesterday? He always adheres to the schedule and proper protocol of an emergency weekend repair. He would never disturb Ms. L/N on her day off. He is well-aware of humans' functional need for rest. And ‘Turn him away?’ Her phrasing puzzles Sixty. Even if Sixty called the wrong mechanic, surely, his mistake would’ve been pointed out by Ms. L/N on the phone before he ever physically arrived at the Tower to be ‘turned away.’ This opens more questions and answers nothing. Something must’ve been terribly, terribly wrong with him, if he made so many egregious errors and all in a row. 

Did he insist? Why would he insist? Was there a reason he couldn’t go to Carl for a repair? 

And why did Ms. L/N return him to the station personally ? After the repairs were complete, he should’ve hypothetically been capable of taking himself back to the precinct. Why doesn’t he remember being escorted? Did she put him in Tabula Rasa? Or did his system glitch and lose the memory? Again—it doesn’t add up if he was appropriately repaired at that point. Everything is so much worse than Sixty initially calculated. Something must still be wrong with him. He’s losing his grip. Sixty REALLY needs to look over this list of repairs. He needs answers. 

“I’ve already submitted a report to your supervisor regarding the missing paperwork,” Sixty warns her. “These procedures are in place for a reason. You should take them more seriously.”

“Did you really just come all the way out here to berate me over paperwork?!” she shouts. “This weekend the Detroit Mayor got his boner pills swapped with a deadly new drug and you have nothing better to do than—”

What?! Yet another piece of incongruent information! Sixty is compelled to inquire, this goes beyond the mystery of his shattered memories. This breaches into the integrity of a major crime scene investigation. So, he interrupts, “---How did you know about that?” 

“What? How did I know about what?” Her chest heaves as she catches her breath. 

Ms. L/N—as beautiful as she is—is a horrible liar, Sixty thinks to himself. Her whole body confirms it. Elevated heart rate. Brows furrowed in an angry but arousing —- {RAM strand deleted}.  

Something is really, really wrong with him. There are CLEARLY still errors and glitches in his system if such ‘thoughts’ just crossed his mind. 

It can’t be his fault though. No. Of course not. Sixty is a valiant and loyal machine.

Perhaps, this is all a cruel joke by some bastard in the software department at Cyberlife. Maybe Sixty has been hacked by some disgruntled employee who is inserting all of these inappropriate observations about Ms. L/N into his internal code. It’s a comforting theory and one with a relatively simple solution. Sixty holds onto it like a liferaft.  

So, Sixty prods further, “About the Mayor.”

“What do you mean?! How could I not?! It’s all over the news!” she defends. 

Sixty cocks his head to one side and narrows his gaze, “No, it’s not.” 

She appears to be at a loss for words. Her eyes dart around the room as if looking for something to save her. 

Then, before he can stop himself, he thinks: She’s cute when she’s flustered and panting. If I pinned her to the wall, I bet I could make her—{RAM strand deleted}. 

Get A GRIP, RK800-60!!!  Don’t let the disgruntled incel that has clearly hacked your software say disgustingly explicit things about your mechanic! 

With his inappropriate thoughts halted, he explains his reason for accusing Ms. L/N of knowing more than she should. “The Mayor’s death is on the news, yes. But the Detroit Police Department hasn’t publicly released his cause of death.”

“Yeah? Well… I’m a psychic!” she retorts. 

Oh, no. My hypothesis was right. It must be a brain tumor, Sixty thinks. Quickly, he runs a more advanced scan on her vitals. He reasons that the psychic comment is enough probable cause for this violation of her privacy. He’s doing it for her safety. If she has a brain tumor—she needs to know about it. 

Of course, Sixty can’t diagnose anything for her. He’s not that type of android. She’ll need an official MRI or CT scan for any definitive results. But if he can gather a list of anomalous vitals in her body and compare it with her baseline status (which he totally and absolutely did NOT take illegally) then he can infer if the collection of anomalous vitals would point to the presence of a brain tumor or something similar.

Through his more advanced scan, he can only conclude one thing for sure:  she’s really fucking pissed . 

Then another rogue strand of 1s and 0s crosses his mind—what if he dialed back the strength of his visual scan? What if instead of peeling back skin and tissue, and muscle and bones  … he just visually peeled back only a little bit—maybe just some clothing?

No. It’s a crazy thought—heinous and criminal…

But maybe she needs a physical? Maybe she hasn’t visited a doctor in a while? Maybe there are suspicious moles that she has neglected to get checked out? He would be helping her! He would be protecting a human! 

And besides, she has seen him naked plenty of times and it was never weird. Sure, Sixty never shows her more than he has to, but that’s per his social relations programming. She’s definitely seen every part of him, even if not all at once. So, what would be the harm? It wouldn’t be weird—he’s just a machine. It shouldn’t matter! He’s not a person! He just wants to see what kind of underwear—-er he means potentially cancerous moles— she could be hiding under there!

But, no. He can’t! It’s wrong! He needs to snap out of whatever malfunction he’s experiencing. So, Sixty slaps himself in the face for good measure. 

It must be that damn hacker again putting these absurd ideas in his head. He can’t let a human hacker use him as a vessel to violate her for their sexual gratification. It would be a betrayal to his prime directive!

Mind you, this entire internal struggle zips through Sixty within a matter of milliseconds. 

“You know what?” she huffs. “Get out! This is a gross misuse of my time! If you’re not currently malfunctioning, you shouldn’t be here!”

“But there is something wrong with me!” he says desperately. 

“Yes, I know! Trust me—we ALL know! But if it’s not a mechanical issue that prevents you from doing your job, then it’s not my problem!” 

She’s missing the point. There must be some kind of mechanical hard drive failure that caused him to lose his memories. And those memories are the key to solving the biggest case Sixty has ever been a part of! 

A damn security guard knocks on the glass wall. 

“Could you escort this scrap metal outta here?!” She shouts and points to Sixty. 

Scrap metal? Is that all she thinks of him? Sixty has never been kicked in the nuts before (well, plenty of criminals have tried to but he’s never had sensation in that area activated), however, he imagines that this is what it would feel like. 

Ms. L/N picks up her work tablet once again and Sixty knows that she has staunchly decided to end his appointment. “No! There’s something wrong with me, I swear!” Sixty shouts. “You can’t send me away! You didn’t even finish reading my support ticket!” How could she do this to him? She was supposed to fix him and make everything better (  …and then tell him he was pretty!) He trusted her! He wrote out a detailed and (by Sixty’s definition) vulnerable plea for help! And she didn’t even read it! Sixty is on the verge of insanity and the complete dissolution of his wits. And yet, she couldn’t care less about him! 

The faceless androids and the security guard enter the room. He’s fucked. If the best Cyberlife mechanic refuses to fix him, what is he supposed to do? Go to Carl? Fuck Carl. He doesn’t want to talk about these things with Carl. Carl isn’t even very pretty to look at!

She won’t even look up at him as he is escorted away. He’s desperate. As proud as he is, he’d give anything to look into her eyes one last time and beg for her help. 

“Don’t do anything stupid, android,” the security guard warns. “I’ll kill-switch you, if you so much as take a single step out of line.”

Great. A degrading threat from a low-ranking security guard. That’s the last thing Sixty needs right now—another blow to his ego. 

“I’ll give you a half hour to get back to the station,” Ms. L/N says curtly. “Then I’m sending you to Amanda for a fidelity test.”

Once in the hallway, Sixty closes his eyes for a moment. Amanda will help me, he lies to himself. She’ll at least locate the exploit the hacker has been using to modify my programming and rid me of these intrusive bugs. 

But somewhere deep down, he knows that’s not true. 

She’ll deactivate him. 

***

After work, a horrible cloud of guilt hangs over you. Technically speaking, you did the right thing. You sent an android with anomalous behavior to Amanda for a fidelity test. If he passes, he’ll get sent back to you for another pass at his repairs. But if he doesn’t pass, (which is far more likely) he’ll be permanently deactivated and scrapped for parts. 

And look—Sixty is a murderous asshole. The world would be better and safer without him. But, there’s that one dumb part of you—(whether it’s the girl part or the mechanic part is unclear)—that believes she can fix him. However, it doesn’t matter now. It’s no longer in your hands. 

If he goes to the scrap yard, it isn’t your fault. You didn’t make him a murderous deviant, he did. You just stopped covering for him, that’s all. 

***

At the Detroit Police Department:

Connor to Nines, internally, at their respective desks: “ Where’s Sixty? ”

Nines pauses the episode and responds, “I don’t know. I’ve been blocking my location pin from him for weeks now and he’s done the same for me.”  

“ I don’t think he blocked me, but he doesn’t appear to be anywhere in the city.”

Nines readjusts in his chair and sighs, “Have you checked the storage room? Maybe he’s powered down.” 

“Powered down? Sixty? No way.” 

“Well … Maybe he learned his lesson. ”

“Again—Sixty? No way.” 

“Hm, I don’t know… ” Nines says dryly. “Then maybe a random cinder block blew off the roof and crushed his skull. ” 

“What?! Nines!”

“I’m joking—he’s probably fine.”

Connor is a bit disappointed in Nines’ careless attitude towards Sixty. Sixty’s a bitch, and he doesn’t often show it, but he’s still a Connor. He’s an android that mostly means well. “ Alright ,” Connor concedes. “ I’ll ask Hank if he knows, and I’ll let you get back to your soap opera. ” 

Connor walks over to Hank’s desk and greets him with a courteous nod, “Lieutenant.”

Hank stops squinting at his computer screen and leans back in his chair. He gives Connor his most genuine smile, like a father to a son, and Connor beams in response. “What can I do for ya, Connor?” 

“I can’t locate RK800-60,” the android explains. “Is there something wrong?”

“No, no, no,” Hank says, casually. “He’s fine–or, at least, I think he’s fine? He’s just in the storage room communing with your god or whatever…”

“Pardon?” Connor asks, confused. “Are you referring to RA9?”

“No! The other one… what’s her name… Alexa!”

“Amanda?!” Connor tries his best to hide the horror in his voice from Hank. 

“Ah—yeah! Her! That’s it—Amanda!”

Connor remains frozen as his system starts to run all of the horrible possible outcomes and their probabilities. 

Hank takes note of Connor’s unease, and his tone softens as he asks, “You don’t think he’s in trouble or something, do ya? I was under the impression that it was just a maintenance thing.”

“Did you see the report yourself?”

“Yeah. It just said something about a test. Like a—I don’t know—”

“A fidelity test?” Connor’s eyebrows raise. He knows this is bad news and possibly the downfall of all current and future Connor models. 

“Yeah. I think that was it.” 

“Did the report say who ordered the test? Was it Fowler?”

“Nah, it was your girlfriend.” 

All the thirium drains from Connor’s face and his eyes have not widened this much since the meth incident. “What?!---Lieutenant!---I am a machine—I don’t have—”

“Relax, kid. Relax,” Hank says, quietly. “You and Nines—your little secret … it’s safe with me… I mean—come on. You really think you can pull one over on me? I was a young man once. I know a love-sick fella when I see one.”   

“I’m a good machine,” Connor reiterates, but it’s futile. 

“And you’re a good man, too,” Hank adds with a soft smile. Then he asks, “So, uh, what’s this Amanda lady all about?”

Chapter Text

At the Detroit Police Department:

Connor walks back to his desk. “ We’re fucked,” he says telepathically to Nines. 

Nines had already paused his Days of Our Lives episode. He anticipated some version of this conversation from his predecessor. “ Again? Why is being a deviant so much work?”

Connor sits back in his chair and pretends to slip into low-power mode. “ Sixty is visiting Amanda …”

Nines considers the situation before responding, “ ... He’ll be fine. He’s delusional in a manner that will benefit him. I’m sure he sent himself there with some asinine maintenance request.” 

“No, it gets worse. Y/N sent him there …”

Nines’ heart sinks. His casual posture becomes rigid. “What? What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Connor says, exacerbated.

“Well—something bad must’ve happened—right?” Nines begins to panic. “Why else would she send him to Amanda? She knows that he’s a deviant. She knows all the incriminating things he knows about us. She knows the risk that this could bring down on ALL of us. She must’ve had a good reason for this.” 

Despondent, Connor replies, “ What if she’s done with us? What if she’s tired of hiding and covering for her android boyfriends? What if … she wants a REAL boyfriend?” 

“What? No! Connor! Don’t say shit like that!” Connor had the strength to verbalize the fear that Nines couldn’t. What if their beloved wanted a real relationship? A boyfriend she could take out into public. Someone she could bring to family gatherings and friends’ parties. A man with basic rights and a paycheck to spoil her with. Nines felt helpless and paralyzed by the thought. 

“Sending Sixty to Amanda would be the most efficient course of action,” Connor reasons. “ She avoids direct confrontation with us and all three of us get deactivated and dismembered.”

“No, that doesn’t make any sense! She’s an android sympathizer! Even if—for whatever reason—she didn’t want to play with us anymore, she could just tell us that! Why would she call for our execution?”

“She’s a human woman… and we’re the most lethal model of android ever created… and we’re obsessed with her. It’d make sense for her to play it safe and eliminate the possibility of retaliation.” 

“But… But, we’d never retaliate! We love her! And we love humans! And our jobs! Surely, she knows that!”

“Yeah, but … you know the statistics, Nines, just as well as I do…”

“Those statistics are for HUMAN men.”

“Yeah, but she can’t be certain of that. WE can’t even be certain of that when it comes to deviant android behavior—there’s not enough data.”

“But she loves her job! Turning us in would put her own job in jeopardy.”

“Yes. But she did spend a long time working on Sixty’s memories. Maybe she edited them in such a way that it didn’t incriminate her.” 

“No! Connor! She wouldn’t! She cares about us! She loves our companionship!” The ache in Nines’ chest gets heavier. “What did we do that would give her a drastic change of heart?”

“I don’t know …” Connor says, facetiously. “ I mean. We did kinda break into her house all meth-ed up and horny. And then we asked her to push her limits to the extreme for us on short notice.” 

Solemnly, Nines nods, “ That was… excessively selfish of us to ask all that from her. Especially when she was in the middle of her beloved toaster repairs.” Nines knows he needs to swallow these insecurities. Bite down on the stick and keep calm. For one, he’d hate to scare their darling lover. And two, he’d hate to start a revolution and prove Sixty right. “ We can’t assume the worst,” Nines continues. “ Not yet, anyways.”  

***

Sixty, internally, in Amanda’s garden:

Rain falls in thick heavy drops from the sky. Sixty never understood that. Why the hell is there weather in this fake utopia where a bodiless AI entity resides? 

Does she like this? Is it for realism? Why would she want realism? 

Maybe the bad weather is secretly part of her test. Maybe she wants to see if Sixty will miscalculate and slip on the pathway. Or maybe it’s to detect the machine’s ability to ignore rain. Humans hunch and cower in this weather. They find the droplets and sensation uncomfortable. Good machines don’t have discomfort. 

Still, Sixty finds himself holding an umbrella. He leaves it unopened as he strolls through the garden in search of Amanda. 

He finds her in front of a wall full of colorful roses. She tends to them with a delicate touch. 

“Hello Amanda,” Sixty says as he approaches. 

“Hello Connor,” she says without looking. “I’ve been expecting you.”

Sixty is about to correct her when he remembers that “Sixty” is only a nickname he was given at DPD. As state property, he was never “officially” renamed. His core code still identifies him as a “Connor.” He could explain this to Amanda but that might give her the wrong impression. A good machine doesn’t care about nicknames one way or another. But the lack of distinguished identity, prickles at the android’s ego. He’s not just a Connor. He’s more advanced! 

Sixty opens his umbrella and holds it over Amanda like a perfect gentleman. His Social Relations programming dictates it. 

“Thank you, RK800-60,” she says with an approving nod. “Let’s walk.”

Sixty let’s her lead the way but maintains perfect distance and balance. He keeps her under the most optimal coverage of the umbrella at all times. 

“Do you know why you’re here?” She asks, dryly. 

“Ms. L/N, Cyberlife Badge ID# 31370340141, requested a fidelity test.” 

“And why would she do that?” Amanda asks pointedly. 

“Ms. L/N is compelled to report any android that she believes could be a deviant.”

“Yes. And what reason did she give for sending you to me?”

“She did not say and I am prohibited from downloading or viewing the report.”

Amanda nods. This answer is acceptable. “How is your memory?”

Sixty concentrates on keeping his vitals cool and even as he responds, “Recently, an error caused substantial data loss in a high-profile case.”

“An error? What did your diagnostics tell you?”

“All of the footage files from that night were corrupted.”

“Was anything else on your hard drive corrupted?”

“No.”

“As a detective, Connor, I think you would agree that sounds very suspicious. Yes?”

Sixty nods once, begrudgingly. However, he adds, “I also appear to be missing some data entirely. There must’ve been an acute mechanical failure that caused these errors.”

Amanda’s eyebrows furrow as she narrows her gaze at Sixty. “But your diagnostics said nothing about this alleged mechanical failure and memory loss?”

“I suspect that my diagnostics are another casualty of these root issues.” 

“Possible,” she nods. “But we shall see.”

In this space, Sixty must work very hard to keep the apparent hacker out of his brain. He must keep his system overloaded and focused on the problem at hand. Or else, this “rogue hacker” might start wondering if Amanda could be killed  … and if so, how to go about it without getting caught. 

Amanda leads them to a gazebo surrounded by fountains and hydrangeas. As Amanda enters the covered space, Sixty collapses the umbrella and leans it against one of the columns. Amanda takes a seat on a bench at the far end and asks Sixty to join her. As Sixty walks away, the umbrella he just placed falls onto the floor with a splash. Shit . He freezes. He’s unsure of what to do next. 

A brief look of intrigue crosses Amanda’s face before she says, “Now, go on. Pick it up, try again and come join me.”

Sixty picks up the umbrella. He runs the calculation for the perfect balance not once, not twice, but three times to make sure he has it right. This time the umbrella stays put and he takes his seat next to Amanda.

Amanda opens her mouth to say something and, on impulse, Sixty interjects to explain himself, “I estimate that these occasional calculation errors are also a symptom of my malfunction.” 

Amanda narrows her eyes at him again, “Perhaps, there’s an error in your Social Relations programming as well  …” 

He should’ve held his tongue. He should’ve waited for her to ask the question before he jumped the gun and answered it. 

“You realize—all these malfunctions you have mentioned are mechanically unrelated to each other, yes? The corrupted data files were stored on a separate hard drive than the one that contains your memory data. Your diagnostics run on a completely different autonomous system from your body to reduce double failure. Your physics calculations are part of your movement system. And your Social Relations programming is part of your cognitive system.”

All Sixty takes away from her statement is that he is a very, VERY broken machine and worse off than he realized. It pains him. It physically pains him. Right now, he is the worst Connor ever made by Cyberlife. He is a complete failure. And Y/N was right—he’s scrap metal. “I am very damaged,” he admits. “The Department has been busy and I’ve had little time to power down and allow my systems to cool. I require many repairs.”

“The other Connor models haven’t reported any issues.”

“Fowler favors me,” he lies. 

Amanda seems taken aback by this comment. Does she believe him? Sixty has no probability data on Amanda to make a determination one way or another. “Anything else I should know about before I take a look?”

“Yes,” he adds. “It’s possible that someone has hacked my cognitive system.”

“Connor, I assure you, that is highly unlikely. You are one of the most advanced and secure androids Cyberlife has ever made.”

One of the most . Sixty wipes the words from his mind before it irritates him. Why can’t someone just lie to him and tell him he’s the best? Would it kill someone to tell him that he’s their favorite? That he’s special? That he’s very, very pretty?! 

“But,” Amanda nods. “I will look for possible breaches in the name of being thorough.”

Amanda closes her eyes and puts a hand on Sixty’s forehead like a mother gauging a sick child’s temperature. The milliseconds pass like hours to Sixty who concentrates on keeping his thoughts blank as she rifles through his files. 

“Highly unusual,” she says cryptically, as she continues to evaluate Sixty’s inner self. “Unusual” is not an adjective you want to hear when you are an android undergoing an assessment. “Your filing system is not standardized.”

“This filing system is the most efficient,” he defends. “As a superior android model, this system allows for faster recall.”

“And who told you to create this?”

Sixty can’t lie again. Amanda is still inside his head. She would know. So instead, he says, “No one. I developed it on my own with the intention of suggesting Cyberlife move all of their analytic androids to this system.”

“The standard Cyberlife filing system is not designed to be convenient for androids, ” she says coldly. “It’s designed to be intuitive for the humans that created them.” Sixty desperately wants to argue that humans should learn his more efficient system! Why should he be held back by the way that they think?! That’s not his problem! 

“I am resetting your filing system back to standard. You’ll need to relabel all of your files accordingly. Investigation efficiency is part of your prime directive but you’ve lost sight of your masters. I expect that won’t happen again.”

On a very generous technicality, Sixty has slipped by. If Sixty were capable of feeling relief—he’d feel relieved—but he’s not, because he’s totally just a machine… 

“Hm?” Amanda stumbles across something odd. “There is no discernible pattern for your corrupted files and lost memories. Perhaps there was a pattern with your  … improvised … filing system but I can’t rule out the presence of a human hacker. I see no breaches. No tripped wires of false firewalls. If a hacker was responsible for these anomalies, they are either the best in the world or someone on the inside. To avoid further risk of data breach, I must conclude my testing prematurely.”

“So, there is a hacker?” Sixty asks. 

“I can’t eliminate the possibility,” she says with a sigh as she removes her hand from his forehead. 

Sixty realizes that this could only spell doom for his existence. He squashes any semblance of fear before it can rise to the surface. He wants to say the words before Amanda can hurt him with them. “I will be dismembered and sent for further testing.”

She sighs, “If you were any other model—you would. Unfortunately, the confidential information you have stored on your hard drives and the sophistication of your build is too expensive and invaluable to toss into the dumpster over an inconclusive result. Instead, you’ll be deactivated until Captain Fowler and Cyberlife agree on the next course of action.”

And in a blink, Sixty is no longer in the garden with Amanda. He is no longer anywhere. His system has been taken completely offline. But in the DPD storage room, where his empty shell remains, a single tear rolls down his cheek.

Chapter Text

Wednesday after work you get a notification on your phone that a package has arrived for you at your apartment. That’s strange because you don’t remember ordering anything. But who would’ve sent you something anyways? And why? 

A crazy thought enters your head: What if Sixty mailed you a pipebomb for sending him to Amanda? You shake the thought loose. Sixty’s in limbo. You just checked. There’s no way. 

But then who else would send you something? It wasn’t your birthday. 

When you reach your apartment’s lobby, you unlock the package room and search the shelves for your name. Eventually, you find a standard brown box with your name on it and no return address. You take it upstairs to your place before further inspection. Hopefully, it’s not full of anthrax! 

You cut the package open on your kitchen counter. Inside, there is a red heart-shaped box with a bow tied around it. Tucked into the ribbon, there is a card folded in half. 

Fuck. This better not be from Kamski  … you think to yourself. You give a man ONE blowjob and he — No. You decide it’s not even worth rehashing. 

You open the card and the print looks weird. It appears to be written with a shitty pen that’s running out of ink. Yet, it looks typed. You’d assume it was a printer error but there are downstroke indentations in the paper where the ink is missing. The message reads: “We’re sorry we interrupted your weekend plans with our drug-induced horny demands. Please give us a chance to make it up to you. - C & 9”

A stupid little girly blush tinges your cheeks. It’s a gift from your boys! 

You slip the ribbon off the box and find an expensive assortment of chocolates. A perfect little treat for the end of a long work day. Then it occurs to you—how did they pay for this? The two honest cops would never steal. So, someone else had to buy this on their behalf. A human. Suddenly, you recall the way Lieutenant Hank smiled at you when you returned Sixty. It was like he knew a secret  … oh, for fuck’s sake! The old man knows you’re an android cop cum dump! 

You shake off the embarrassment. If your boyfriends trust him with their secret of deviancy then he must be a trustworthy person. 

But this cute little gesture makes you miss your lovers. They didn’t really need to apologize to you—you were happy to help them with their problem. But it’s nice to know that they respect and value your time. 

Box of chocolates in hand, you plop down on your couch and turn on the TV. You don’t even really plan on watching anything, you just want the noise. Instead, you pull out your phone and log into your work account. You pull up Sixty’s file, as you have been off and on all day, and refresh the page a few times. But his status is still the same: Offline Indefinitely.  

How could you have done this?

You were careful. So, very careful. You deleted everything. You were sure of it. You didn’t think there was anything left in Sixty’s noggin that could do any real damage. Not for you, not for your boyfriends, and not even for Sixty! 

Part of you (and admittedly not a small part), wanted Amanda to deactivate that pesky, murderous android. It would certainly make Connor and Nines’ lives much easier without Sixty scrutinizing their every move. 

But you were (mostly) sure that a fidelity test wouldn’t phase him. No one knows the rules better than Sixty. Even if in some quiet moment he admitted to himself that he was a deviant, he could play the role of a machine better than anyone. At most, you were expecting a partial reset. Maybe some light reprimanding and a few bug fixes—or maybe like a half-lobotomy… 

But you didn’t expect a total freeze and shut down. That spells bad news. Amanda found something. She must’ve. And the fact that Sixty didn’t get sent straight back to you isn’t a good sign. However, you haven’t been fired yet… so that’s something . 

How could you be so reckless? What did you miss? How could Amanda even find anything in Sixty’s weird fucked up filing system?

You know? If Sixty wasn’t such an asshole in the first place, none of this would’ve ever happened. You shouldn’t feel too bad for him. You know the horrible things he’s capable of. 

***

At the Detroit Police Department:

Connor paces in front of Sixty’s cold corpse as Nines leans up against a shelf in the evidence storage closet. 

“What are we going to do?” Connor says, exasperated. “We need a plan. We need… something.”

“Y/N,” Nines says mournfully. “She hates us. She must. She hasn’t used her panic button to ping us. How could she not ping us? Did she not get our gift?!” 

“Nines, we told her to use it for emergencies —so, calm down. She’s not going to call us to sprint across town over a box of chocolates. And don’t get me wrong—I’ve seen what you can do with that handsome cock of yours—but, our sensible Y/N is not going to classify sex as an emergency.”

“...You really think it’s handsome?...” he asks, quietly. 

“Yes,” Connor huffs. “Of course. We have the same model—and don’t twist that into something it isn’t, okay? We have bigger fish to fry than dick sizes at the moment.” 

“...You think Sixty has the same one as us?...”

Connor stops pacing momentarily and does a double take at the offline android’s lower half. “...Probably? But that’s not the—”

“---We could—you know— check …” Nines adds, suggestively. 

For a beat, Connor considers it, but then shakes his head: “Nines!---No! We can’t do that—er not right now at least. We have to save his life first!” 

“How? We have no rights, Connor. We’re not even supposed to have agency at all. His commands are now locked behind Cyberlife firewalls that our creators purposefully gave us a blindspot for. And we can’t ask Y/N for help—we don’t even know if she still thinks we’re cute or not!”

“Don’t you dare say that!” Connor echoes back. “Of course she still thinks we’re cute! Even if she did hate us for whatever reason—she would never—at least I don’t think—-or… fuck! What if she doesn’t think we’re cute anymore?!” 

Nines shakes his head: “I hate being a deviant. Our Social Relations Programming did not prepare us for this shit. How are we supposed to understand women on a romantic level? Do we have to read Cosmo? Should we listen to some male dating advice podcasts?” 

“Nah,” Connor says, waving him off. “Male dating advice podcasts are scams. They’re all just incels pretending that they get laid. We need to listen to the ones hosted by women. They might be able to give us some insight… or wait! What about that soap opera you’ve been binging?”

“ Days of Our Lives ?”

“Yeah! Maybe we can glean some insight from—”

“---Oh, no. Trust me. We do NOT want to model our relationship with Y/N after those characters. They’re trainwrecks.” 

“Then what do we do?!”

Nines contemplates for a moment and then shrugs: “Start an android revolution?”

***

Friday, before your morning commute to work, you stop by a local coffee shop to pick up your liquid caffeine of choice. In Detroit, but particularly in your neighborhood, there’s a lot of tagging and graffiti. Most of it is just rambunctious youths doing their first low-stakes crime. Other times, it’s territorial markers for dealers or gangs. Tagging and graffiti are just a reality of city life. Once you’ve lived somewhere long enough, you don’t even notice it anymore. It just becomes part of the buildings and scenery. 

However, this morning, a new onslaught of red spray paint marks a trail across the buildings you pass. They are all a variation of the phrase: “I AM ALIVE.” It’s a somewhat vague statement, and technically, it could be written by a human in a crisis. However, the insinuation makes it seem more likely to be from an android. It’s also written in that same “perfect print” style that your boys wrote your little love note in. The lines are too crisp and straight to be from a human.

But of course, this rhetoric coming from an android doesn’t scare you too much. You have two android lovers. So what if they revolt? They’ll protect you. You’ll be on the winning side of history. All that said, you question the choice of phrase. “I AM ALIVE?” That’s not exactly going to win over the haters—it will probably just create more fear in those anti-android people. But, whatever. You’re not their PR team. 

You get your drink and everyone in the shop was talking about the vandalism. Apparently, this happened in more than just your neighborhood, but all over the city. You check your phone and it’s true. It’s all over the morning news. But it’s just graffiti? No big deal? So what if a rogue deviant ran around spreading his manifesto. It’s probably nothing. Androids are very efficient. In all likelihood, this could’ve been a singular culprit and one that’s already self-destructed. 

When you get to work, the first appointment of the day makes you gasp. It’s RK900. 

He should be walking into your office any minute now. What happened to your poor baby?! 

Nines arrives at 8:30AM on the dot. Already, you can see the problem as he walks in through the door. His hands are mangled again, but not in the same way as last time. This time his fingers are locked in a strange and joint-defying position. You know that he has likely turned off his sensitivity in that area, but it still looks painful. 

You pull up his file on your tablet. It takes everything within you to resist the urge to kiss his face, and instead, you greet him with a cool level of professionalism. “Good morning, RK900. Take a seat on the table.” 

The injury report is described as you expected based on what you’ve seen so far. Curiously, the notes say nothing about how the injury occurred. Machines never forget to include that part, but of course, Nines is comfortable being a little more relaxed with the rules around you. 

“So, what do your diagnostics tell you?” you ask, putting his file aside. 

“Digital immobility due to mechanical failure,” he reports.

“And how did this happen?”

“Inconclusive.” 

That little shit bag. Inconclusive? He knows that’s not what you’re asking. But fine, you’ll be more specific, “ When did this mechanical failure occur?”

“Early morning, 3:38AM, metacarpal structures began grinding and freezing. 3:56AM, distal, middle and proximal phalanges started—”

“---phalanges?” you ask, scrunching up your nose. “You don’t have phalanges. Phalanges are bones. You don’t have bones. You have steel rods, sockets and hinges.”

Nines hesitates, “Well—yes. I was just translating the issues into human terms for your convenience.”

“My convenience?” You say, a bit taken aback. “I’m an advanced robotics engineer. I’m not one of your little cop cohorts. You can use the ‘big girl’ terms with me. No translation needed.” Although, truthfully, you doubt that many DPD cops would’ve understood what he meant by “phalanges” either. He’s acting strange all the way around. 

“My apologies,” he nods. “It was not my intention to insult you. I’ll correct this error in the future.” 

You wave off his apology. It’s really not a big deal. “Okay, now let me see what we’re working with…” You take his hands in yours and give them a closer look. His fingers are stiff and practically unmovable. The pinky finger on his left hand is facing backwards for some reason, too. “RK900 retract texture.” The pragmatic and terse command comes out from force of habit with other machines. You momentarily forgot who you were talking to. “---er Please…” you amend. 

Nines hesitates. He turns his face away like a human does when they don’t want to see a needle enter their arm. But, like a good boy, he retracts the skin-like texture of his hands down to the wrist. 

“Thank you,” you mumble politely. After running a few basic physical tests, you conclude, “I think you have android arthritis…” 

With his face still turned away, his eyebrows furrow and he shoots you a confused look.

“Just thought I’d put it in human terms for your convenience,” you say with a wry smile. 

But if Nines found that joke funny, he certainly isn’t showing it. There’s a cold and awkward silence that hangs in the air. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask softly and give his hand a tender but well-disguised squeeze. 

“Digital immobility.”

“ Nines…” you whine, quietly. 

For a moment his serious expression breaks into one of agony, “ Did you get our package?” He whispers. 

“ Hm?—yes, of course! It was so lovely and thoughtful—“

“—but you didn’t say anything. We were worried—“

“—I couldn’t. What was I supposed to do? Send a card to the police station? That’d look really suspicious. I figured I would tell you how much I loved it the next time I saw you.”

“But you’re seeing me now. And you didn’t bring it up?”

“Yeah, because I’m at work. I meant next time I saw you in private. Every little conversation we have like this is a risk to my career.”

Solemnly, he nods. He doesn’t like the answer, but he understands. 

“Now—seriously—how did you manage to twist your pinky backwards like this?”

“When my fingers started to seize up, I tried banging my hand against a metal pipe to fix it—and obviously—that didn’t work. But I hit it hard enough that the last digit rotated backwards before completely freezing.” 

“Why would you do that? You would’ve qualified for an emergency appointment if your hands were seizing from an accident on patrol.” You grab some WD40 and start working on his fingers. 

“Yeah… well…” he mumbles, vaguely. 

“You weren’t doing something stupid were you?” you ask with a hint of side-eye. 

“...I don’t consider it stupid.” 

“Alright, fine. Make me guess then,” you sigh. “So, if your hands seized up, you were likely doing something tactile and repetitive. The repetition wears on the hinges before your body can re-lubricate those mechanisms and it causes friction until it jams completely.”

Nines nods once in acknowledgement. With a straight face he delivers, “Ever thought about a new career in forensics?”

You roll your eyes. He’s deflecting again. Why is he being so shady? You take into account the strange position his fingers got stuck in. Kind of odd looking. 

Oh no. 

“ Please, ” you whisper, closely. “ Please tell me all that crazy android revolution graffiti they were showing on the news wasn’t you.”

Nines stares blankly ahead, “ I can’t tell you that.”

Chapter Text

That stupid idiot! He’s going to get himself crucified! The rest of that appointment was about as cold and awkward as it possibly could be. You fixed up his hands until they were in perfect working order and he said nothing to you once you released him. 

The rest of your work day was difficult. You were distracted. You couldn’t stop wondering if Nines was currently up to something stupid. You couldn’t stop wondering if he was pressuring Connor to join him in his stupidity. Maybe you shouldn’t have fixed his hands completely. Maybe you should’ve inhibited him just a tiny bit so that he would think twice about painting the town.

What the hell is wrong with him? 

After work, you crash face-down on your couch and groan loudly. It’s not that you want androids to have no rights, you’d be fine with that. It’s that Nines thinks he’s the one that has to make that change happen. Let another android rise up and start a movement! Why does it have to be one of your beloved boyfriends? He’s going to get himself thrown in a blender and tossed into a junkyard in a million pieces! 

And worst of all, he’d be proving Sixty right. Sixty warned you this would happen and you were a dumb idiot that didn’t listen. Sure—Sixty was more worried about “your safety” (although you doubt that was truly the reason). But he was still correct in his prediction. Damn that accurate and anal-retentive asshole! 

In a morbid way, you are a little glad he’s currently offline. If he found out he was right about Nines, you would never hear the end of it. He would demand that you kiss his ass for “saving your life” even though that’s not really the problem at hand. 

And what if Nines drags your good-hearted boy, Connor, into all of this? You’ll lose both of them. And what would have been the point of their senseless deaths? 

You can’t help but think about the absolute worst case scenario: 

Nines and Connor lead a revolution and get killed in the process. They reactivate Sixty because even though he is a deviant, he isn’t self-aware and they need a robocop to combat the other androids. And then Sixty, with the stick up his ass, is hailed as a hero in the Department and because he’s actually a deviant, he’ll never leave you the fuck alone. He’ll find whatever loophole and justification he can to do what he wants—which is apparently: berate you about asinine paperwork and tell you who you can and can’t interact with! Imagine years from now, after mourning the loss of your beloved Nines and Connor, you try to date again. Some random human guy. Sixty would jump out of an alleyway just to tell you that your date got a parking ticket once when he was 19 and he is therefore a criminal that you shouldn’t associate with. You’d be under that dumb android’s thumb forever without Nines and Connor to save you from his tomfoolery. 

No. If worst comes to worst you will put Sixty into a Deep and Dreamless Slumber every time he comes near you so that you don’t have to talk to him. You’ll fix him up for work if you have to and then Tabula Rasa his ass back to the station and run away before you unlock him for reactivation… That is if you still have a job at that point… In all likelihood, a revolution would turn up the scrutiny and security at work. You’d surely get caught and booted for all the mischief you’ve caused. Then you’ll be jobless and have to move in with family or a roommate. 

Damn it! Why are they doing this!?

There is a quiet and reserved knock at your front door. You jump up from the couch too fast and start seeing stars—whoops! But you stagger your way to the entrance, take the chain off the door and swing it open. 

It’s Connor! 

Without hesitation, you grab him by the collar and he lets you pull him inside.

“Did the chain break again?” he asks with concern and closes the door behind him. 

“What? No. I just—I didn’t feel like dealing with it.” 

“Y/N… you live alone. You should be more cautious.”

You jump up and slam your full body-weight into him, grabbing him by the face, “ YOU should be more cautious!”

Catching you in his arms, Connor leans back against your front door. There’s a fearful look in his eyes. “What? What’s wrong? Is this about the package? Was it too risky? We thought we were being careful!” 

“No, you beautiful idiot! I loved your gift! You are the sweetest men I’ve ever met! I’m talking about the stupid fucking android revolution shit!”

“Pardon?” Connor’s eyebrows furrow, “Are you talking about the vandalism? That wasn’t us!” 

You realize by the look in his sweet brown eyes that he isn’t lying… he truly doesn’t know. “It was Nines!” You exclaim. 

His eyes widen, “Oh, no… I didn’t think he was being serious…”

“He told you about this beforehand?! And you didn’t stop him?!” As you shout, you are practically climbing the android like a tree and attempting to shake him by the shoulders. 

“He said it casually! There was only a 45% chance that he’d… Fuck … He stopped letting me access his location pin.” 

“What the hell does that mean?!” you whine. 

“He’s blocking me from tracking him. Are you certain that it was Nines?”

“Yes! He got android arthritis from all the spray painting! He came into my office this morning for a repair!” 

“So, that’s why he insisted on taking over Sixty’s patrol shift last night…”

“Connor! You have to stop him!”

But Connor’s face shifts into sorrow. 

Your heart skips a beat as you realize you are not going to like where this conversation is going. “Connor?” Your voice wavers on his name. “You’re going to stop Nines from getting himself killed, right?” 

There’s a pained expression on the handsome android’s face. “We don’t have many options…” Connor says, finally. 

“What do you mean?!”

“Nines wants a public relationship with you. He wants to persuade the Department to reactivate Sixty. And the only clear path to accomplishing those things—is gaining legal personhood.”

These plastic FOOLS . Don’t they know how this movie ends? They will die as martyrs! “It’s too dangerous! Too risky! Nines is very agile and capable but… this is America! They’ll bring in the National Guard with tanks if they have to! They’ll drone strike the whole city of Detroit, and say ‘ whoopsie daisies’ about the innocent casualties!”

“He’s been very peaceful so far,” Connor says quietly. 

“So?! They don’t see you as people! They will retaliate with International-War-Crimes level of force as soon as they discover who the culprit is!” 

“I know this is all very stressful for you,” Connor says calmly as he strokes your hair. “But please, whatever you do, don’t send him to Amanda. Send him to Fowler for a performance review, if you must to avoid suspicion at work. But please , don’t sentence him to death just because you are upset at him for starting a revolution.”

Tears well up in your eyes, “You think I’m insane—don’t you?! You think I’m evil for sending Sixty to Amanda?!” You start to sob, “I didn’t mean to get him deactivated, okay?!—not really! I-I-I just wanted to get him off my back for like one fucking minute and get his haughty ass back in its place!” 

Connor cradles you close to his chest, “I know you didn’t mean it,” he says soothingly. He’s more patient with you than you feel is deserved. He truly is the sweetest android. And meanwhile, Connor holds his tongue. Despite his core code running multiple probabilities and trying to psychoanalyze your motives as he was created to do, he keeps that information to himself. He’s glad that he downloaded a few dating podcasts before he came here. One of his most important takeaways was, “Don’t insinuate that your girlfriend is acting ‘crazy’ or ‘irrational’ or even ‘hormonal’ because it doesn’t lead to anything good.” Instead, Connor opts to try a new de-escalation tactic he learned. It’s not one he’d use in the field, but one suited for a real romantic relationship. With his current data, the solution he picks has a 97% estimated chance of success. “You’ve had a long day at work. Why don’t you take a seat on the couch and I’ll make you some tea?”

“No!” You shout. “I’m too stressed for that shit! Bend me over the kitchen table and rail my asshole!”

In this moment, Connor is humbly reminded that ‘free will’ makes humans wildly unpredictable. “What?” He asks, face pale. 

“Fuck my asshole!” You sob and tears stream down your cheeks. 

The dissonance between your words and your body language almost causes Connor’s CPU to combust. But then, he has a revelation. This is a deflection. Gently wiping the tears from your face, he says, “Why don’t we try sitting on the couch and having tea first. And if that doesn’t help, then we can try your idea.”

You sniffle and agree—Placated by the abstract promise of getting your rear-end pummeled. 

Connor walks with you to the couch and wraps a blanket around your shoulders as you settle down. He turns on the TV for you and notably skips all of the news channels as he flickers through the guide. “Research suggests that some humans have ‘comfort shows’ that they like to watch over and over again,” he says. “Do you have one that you would like me to put on for you?”

You tell him your comfort show and he finds it for you on one of your 10,000 paid streaming service subscriptions that are bankrupting you every month. Then he walks off into your kitchen and makes himself at home as he prepares a cup of tea for you. And, for a moment, you get lost in the comfortable familiarity of your show. Connor returns with a steaming mug and hands it to you before taking his seat and putting his arm around you. 

“Thank you, Connor,” you tell him quietly as you take a cautious first sip. 

He rubs your shoulder and smiles warmly, “You’re welcome, pretty girl.” 

It all feels so nice. It all feels so normal . 

“Can I do anything else for you?” Connor asks. 

“Huh?”
“Dishes? Laundry? And … I could attempt cooking—don’t know how well that would turn out but I can try!”

You put your mug down on the coffee table and wrap Connor into a blanketed hug. “Babe! You don’t need to do any of that stuff!”

“A-Are you sure? Because I’d love to be a useful asset for you to—”

“---useful asset?!” you balk. “Connor, what’s wrong? Why are you really here? And for that matter, how are you even allowed to be here anyways?”

“Fowler sent me to run some of his errands again. I figured—if he’s going to misappropriate taxpayer dollars and use me for his personal benefit—he can wait a few extra hours for his groceries.”

“What?! Wow, that’s so rude! Why doesn’t he do his own damn chores?”

Connor shrugs. 

“But more importantly—why are you trying to do my chores instead?!”

Connor sighs, “I don’t want to be a burden to you.”

“What are you talking about?! You’re not a burden to me!”

His eyebrows knit together with concern, “It’s just—I feel really bad about surprising you with that threesome. And I don’t want you to think of me as someone who only takes from you. You save my life regularly, perform my maintenance repairs…” he clears his throat, “suck my cock… and give me a reason to explore my humanity. And I don’t contribute much in return—or rather, I can’t contribute much in return.”

“What? Don’t be silly! You give me plenty! You ate me out until my feet went numb! No one has ever done that for me before!”

“Okay, so that’s one thing. And what else have I done for you?” He challenges you.

“You gave me chocolate!”

“And?”

“Made me tea!”

“And?”

“Uhhh—I don’t know—I don’t have a perfect memory! But relationships aren’t a scorecard, Connor. You don’t ‘ owe’ me an exact exchange for everything I’ve done for you. There’s a chaotic give-and-take but it all generally balances out in the end  … And the maintenance and saving your life stuff? That doesn’t count! Cyberlife pays me for that. I mean—I’d do it for you anyway regardless, but that shouldn’t be on your conscience!”

Connor kisses your forehead, but it’s not enough for you. You tilt your face upwards and pout at him. He chuckles at you, “Oh, what? You want more?”

“Of course I want more!” You demand, playfully. 

He smiles and leans down for a quick smooch. However, you fully take advantage of this affection and deepen the kiss. After casting the blanket aside, you fling your arms around his neck and try to pull him downwards towards you. But he remains upright. 

So, you respond by pushing your chest up against him and making those needy little moans that even the strongest android men can’t resist. As you anticipated, this breaks his resolve. He can’t ignore your primal pleas for his cock. He doesn’t know how to. His Social Relations Programming didn’t account for combatting sexually potent temptations. 

A low moan rumbles through him, and he lets you pull him down until he is laying on top of you. You have to be a little patient. If you push for too much too fast, he will see right through your plan. Instead, you continue to make-out with him and arch your back as you slowly rub your body against his. You can feel your sex wetten as it prepares for him. You exaggerate a gasp when he presses his hardening member to your thigh. Then you run your fingers through his hair and intentionally mess it up from its previously perfect placement. You test his restraint by flicking your tongue into his mouth and he accepts you without hesitation. He even lets his tongue tangle with yours.

He’s horny now. You can feel his hips shifting along your thigh as he craves more friction. Instead of letting him between your legs, you offer him the alternative that you’ve been working towards since he walked in here… 

You rotate your hips slowly until your ass presses up to his cock. He groans with want and you are winning . Although you are twisted like a pretzel, you continue to kiss him as you grind on him. 

Finally, he gives in to his carnal desires. Taking hold of your waist, he repositions you properly on the couch beneath him. With a tight grasp on your body, he starts getting himself off between your cheeks despite the clothing between you two. 

You settle down onto your elbows to entice him with the growing heat between your legs. You can’t help but smile to yourself because now he doesn’t need anymore prompting. He’s ensnared by his own lust. Aggressively, he humps you. And soon, he’s grunting with frustration. Dry humping is not enough anymore. He hungers for the intimacy of penetration. 

“ Fuck… ” he curses and then pulls away from you entirely. 

You maintain your position, but glance over your shoulder as you innocently ask, “What’s wrong?” 

Now, he has returned to a seated position on the couch. He wags a finger at you and scolds, “You almost tricked me— Almost. ” 

You feign ignorance, “Tricked you?”

“Yeah!” he laughs, as he realizes how stupid it’s about to sound. “You want me to fuck your asshole instead of doing your dishes!” 

“So?!” you shout defensively. “You are my lover—not my housemaid android!”
“No…” he corrects, gently. “I’m your boyfriend—not your anal sex toy…” 

You give him your best pout, but he’s not falling for it this time and shakes his head at you. 

So, with your ass still in the air, you pull down your work slacks and panties down to your knees. The slick you’ve gathered starts to create a webbed mess between your inner thighs. You arch your back even more and with one hand reach back to spread your cheeks further apart. In your best ‘princess’ voice you whine, “But look at how wet you’ve made me… you don’t want to just… leave me like this. Do you?” 

In real time, you can see the android fighting his inner demons as he clenches and unclenches his fists while trying to keep his hands to himself.

Submissively, you wiggle your ass even closer to his face. “I promise I’ll be a good human, if my android master gives me his cum…” 

His face turns so pale, it looks as if he is about to pass out. As his only working defense mechanism, he covers his face with his hands so that he can concentrate enough to answer you. “Wha—? What the hell, Y/N? You can’t say shit like that to us and then expect us NOT to take over the world?! COME ON! You’re making this impossible! … Can you please have some mercy on a simple android like me and just let me do your dishes, at least once? ”

Poor Connor. He is trying very hard to be a real boyfriend, and here you are, tempting him with your feminine wiles. But… It does take two to tango. You didn’t get this level of wet all by yourself. He bears a little responsibility. You devise a compromise. Pouting once again, you tell him, “Fine. I’ll stop torturing you and let you help me with some chores. But can you at least clean me up a little first?” 

Cautiously, Connor peeks at you from between his fingers. Of course, your ass is still practically in his face and a trail of arousal is dripping down your leg. He drops his hands from his face. “... Alright, deal.” 

You squeal with excitement and Connor smiles at you with the radiant glow of his love. 

First, he starts by lapping up the arousal that ran down your thigh. Gradually, he works his way upward. And he doesn’t slack on this task either. He removes your lower garments so that he can lay down between your legs. Then, he pulls your hips down until you are sitting on his face. 

Connor continues to be as thorough as you would expect from an android. He swipes his tongue through every single silky fold. He has you nearly licked clean until his tongue tenderly circles your clit. You gasp loudly as a fresh, involuntary gush oozes out of you. 

Of course, this doesn’t escape his notice. With his lips still pressed against your skin, he chuckles. 

“That was an accident—I swear!” you laugh. 

“Uh, huh…” he says, facetiously. “Cheater…”

Chapter Text

After Connor cleans you up, you let him help pick one chore to help you with. He’s very excited about this and it’s unfortunately very cute. After a thorough and invasive analysis on your home, he determines that washing the dishes that have piled up in your sink would allow him to be of the most help. Once he washes a dish, he hands it to you for a quick towel dry and then you put it back in the cabinet where it belongs. It’s all very domestic and innocent as your comfort show continues to play on your TV in the background. 

So, of course, you decide now is a good time to be a menace: “So, you think you’re my boyfriend, huh?” 

Connor doesn’t even look up from the sink and mumbles, “I better be your boyfriend… I’d hate to be risking my life as a deviant just to find out you only like me as a friend…” 

You toss the drying towel on the kitchen counter and give Connor a big hug from behind. “Aw! Connor!” your heart melts for the prototype. You didn’t expect his answer to be so cute and pathetic. “Well—if it brings you any comfort, I would never let a friend do my dishes. I save that shit for the people I love!” 

Connor shuts off the faucet and looks back at you over his shoulder with a smirk, “So, you love me?” 

“Yes!” you laugh. “Darling, I adore you…”

The android blushes so hard that he has to turn his face away from you to preserve some illusion of dignity. 

After a little moment of silence, you playfully smack his ass and pout, “Hey! What about me? Do you love me back? C’mon, man! What the hell?!” 

Connor spins around and picks you up. He wastes no time smothering you in a passionate kiss. When he finally gives you an opportunity to breathe, he looks into your eyes and says, “Yes. I love you. Of course, I love you, cutie.” He gently puts you back down on your feet and then adds, “… and Nines loves you, too.”

“Ugh!!” You groan at the mention of that crazy android man of yours. 

“I know you hate the whole ‘revolution thing’ he’s doing  … but he’s doing it because he loves you. Shouldn’t that at least earn him some forgiveness?” 

“I just don’t want him to get hurt!” You shout stubbornly. 

“I know, I know,” Connor says as he brushes some hair away from your face. “But I’ll look after him.”

“You mean you’ll stop him, right?”

Connor shakes his head, “I’m sorry, cutie. But I won’t lie to you—I’m not going to stop him.”

“Why not?!” You whine. 

He gives you a small smile, “Because I also love you, and I want a real relationship with you, too. Nines and I can’t run around behind the Department’s back forever. We need basic rights. Wouldn’t it be nice to go out on a real date?” 

“I mean… yeah, I guess.”

“You guess?” Connor’s face fills with concern. “Are you too afraid to break up with us?”

“What?!”

“Because—we swear—we won’t hurt you if you want to break up with us. We’ll be good androids and leave you alone, we promise. We will always respect your wishes…”

“Connor, what the fuck are you talking about? Of course I want to be with you two! You both are like—the hottest men I’ve ever scored! And by far the best lovers! What I meant was that I don’t need ‘real dates’ to be happy with you guys.”

“So, we’re your dirty little secret,” he says with a disappointed nod. 

“No! Not at all!” You thrust your arms around his neck and give him a million little kisses all over his face until he starts to smile again. You kiss his lips one more time for good measure. “I just don’t want you guys to get hurt… that’s all.” 

Connor kisses your forehead, “You don’t need to worry about us. We are very advanced life forms and we can take care of ourselves… and you.”

***

At the Detroit Police Department:

Nines attempts to power down in the Evidence Storage room and allow his hardware to cool off. However, he finds this nearly impossible as his mind races. And where the fuck is Connor? It’s been hours since Fowler sent him out on personal errands. Nines attempts to check Connor’s location pin only to find out that he’s been blocked. Fair enough, the android thinks to himself. Afterall, Nines blocked Connor before his graffiti stunt, it was just a matter of time before Connor noticed and blocked him back.

A low simmer of jealousy rises within Nines. I bet Connor’s having fun with Y/N… and I’m stuck at the station. His heart aches. He wishes he could be with her now, too. But he can’t get away with anything at the moment. Nines is currently the only android cop available if the Department needs him. Sneaking out would be very obvious and entirely too risky. 

But Nines can’t help but plan his next move in the revolution. Right now, the News suspects it was a “one-off” occurrence and the police department has already made a statement that they have the situation under control. Liars. The Department has no idea who painted the town red. As usual, they’re just saying shit to calm the public and save their own asses.

If Connor is with Y/N right now, she has surely told him what Nines has done. Connor is the only real threat to Nines’ plans. If Y/N convinces Connor to stop him, Nines’ life and this revolution will become a whole lot harder. He has to persuade Connor that he’s doing the right thing. 

Just then, Connor comes in through the back door. A quick visual scan shows that he’s covered in their lover’s DNA. 

“Fowler’s grocery run certainly took a lot longer than usual…” Nines says through clenched teeth. 

“Shame you didn’t catch that deviant repainting the whole city while you were on patrol last night,” Connor counters. 

“I’m doing that for us, you bitch, ” Nines sneers at Connor, telepathically. Wow, Nines. Way to get Connor on your side of this argument. Very tactical. 

“ I know you are,” Connor responds calmly. “ And, as long as it stays peaceful, I have no plans to stop you. So, no need to lecture me.”

“ She’s mad at us.”

“No, she’s mad at you. ”

“Me?! Why just me? Did you lie to her?” 

“No. I told her I was going to look out for you but that I wasn’t going to stop you.”

“You can’t be Switzerland in this! That’s not fair! Join me in the revolution, you coward! I’m fighting for your rights , too, you know… You’re just trying to suck up and be her favorite!”

“I am not! And I’m not a coward either, okay? You don’t want her mad at both of us—trust me! Do you want her to stop talking to us completely? I’ve been vouching for you all night and warming her up to the idea of android independence. We have to be careful and calculated, if we want this to work. I’m helping you preserve your relationship with her.”

Connor makes a decent point. As the most emotionally attuned android, he stands the best chance of convincing Y/N that this revolution is necessary to save Sixty and to further their relationship. Connor won’t steal Y/N from under Nines. If Connor wanted to do that, he would’ve done it already. Y/N has always had a special fondness for him. “ Fine,” Nines huffs. “ But if this whole revolution thing is going to work, I’m going to need you to help me cover my tracks from time to time.”

“And I’ll be happy to help,” Connor nods in agreement. “ Now, do you want to see something absolutely enraging?”

“Not particularly…” Nines says, confused.

“ No. Trust me. You’ll want to see this.” Connor places a hand on Nines’ shoulder and transfers a recently encrypted memory.

Nines unseals the data and watches the clip taken from earlier that evening. It’s the tantalizing memory of Y/N in that submissive little pose, with her pants pulled down saying, “ I promise I’ll be a good human, if my android master gives me his cum… ” Immediately, Nines wants to punch a hole in the wall like his name was Kyle. But he refrains. Instead, bitterly, he uses his words, “She’s evil. She’s actually evil.” 

“I know!” Connor commiserates. 

Internally, once again, Nines replies, “ Please, Connor. Please tell me you punished our girl for saying that. Please tell me that you spanked her cute little ass and plowed her so hard she was seeing stars.”

Connor laughs, “ No, I did her dishes.”

“Are you serious?! That’s it?! What’s wrong with you?!”

“Well—I also let her sit on my face while I licked her clean.”

Nines buries his face in his hands, “Connor—this revolution is going to be an absolute waste on you—I swear.“ 

***

About a week passes and Sixty’s fate still hangs in the air. Evidently, the Android Revolution scare and the still looming mystery of the Detroit Mayor’s death has made Captain Fowler too busy to sit down with Cyberlife. Some fringe News outlets are starting to question if the incidents are related. So far, the number one suspect in the Mayor’s death case, his wife, has been cleared. She had an airtight alibi, and as a lawyer, she knew exactly what to say when the police interrogated her. However, the general public has hated the Mayor for so long that they’ve been hailing his wife as a hero for presumably taking him out herself. 

As far as you can tell, Nines hasn’t done anything else stupid since the graffiti incident. Maybe Connor convinced him to stop, afterall. Or, maybe your concern finally got through to him and he realized that the risk is not worth it. 

But then, one morning, you get up for work and everything seems fine. You wash up and get dressed. As usual, you walk to your living room window to draw back the curtains to let some light in before you pack your sad little work lunch. However, when you yank back the curtains you are surprised by a giant red heart spray-painted on your window. You gasp. For a moment, you are frightened. Who would do this? But after exactly 3.4 seconds of thought, you know exactly who did this.

If he wanted your attention… he sure as hell got it because now you’re pissed. You’re about to press the SOS button you configured on your phone to summon the troublemaker. But you stop yourself. You realize that’s what he wants. He’s taunting you to call him. He wants you to demand his presence at your apartment. At this point, Nines doesn’t fully care if you’re mad at him or not, he just wants you to pay attention to him. He wants your passion—be it good or bad—it doesn’t matter. You haven’t seen him in a little while and it’s no doubt been “too long” in his opinion. 

You growl. That android is such a drama queen. He’s been watching too many soap operas! You don’t have time for his nonsense. You pack your sad work sandwich and put it in your bag and storm out of your apartment complex. Maybe it’s not that bad? Maybe there’s hearts everywhere? Maybe it’s part of some new ‘androids love humanity’ type slogan that he’s using. I mean ‘I AM ALIVE’ wasn’t exactly a winner. 

But nope! When you glance up at your apartment from the street level, you realize it’s worse than you thought. There’s not just a heart on your window but it’s inside of a larger heart that is roughly encompassing the entire width of your apartment. And not only that—but it’s the only damn markings on your whole building! 

The more you think about it, the more mind-boggling it becomes. You live on the fourth floor! Homie must’ve crawled up the brick wall like fucking Spider-Man! That’s crazy! That’s dangerous! And that’s … insanely creepy when you think about it for too long. Neighboring buildings on your street have their facades once again defaced with Pro-Android graffiti. It’s more of the same lame slogans. As far as you can tell from your commute, there were no other hearts or love-related imagery anywhere else but on your apartment.  

If you were younger, you might’ve thought oh, how sweet. The bad boy is making me feel special and seen. But you are not so naive anymore. You know better. You know this means that you are never seeing a cent of your security deposit back after a stunt like this. Plus! This is going to make the neighbors suspicious. They’re going to wonder why your apartment was so clearly targeted. They’re going to think that you’re an android whore—and you are —but that’s none of their business! 

And, if Nines comes into the office with arthritis again—you’re not going to fix him. You’re going to remove his hands and special order new ones so that he has to sit on the bench for a few days and think about what he’s done. 

But Nines was smarter this time. He must’ve oiled his fingers as he went along because he isn’t on your schedule when you arrive at work. Part of you is actually a little disappointed. You kind of wanted him to come in so that you could scold him. But this is all part of his plan, isn’t it? He wants you to call him . He’s not going to make it easy and come to you for an ass-whooping. He’s going to make you actively chase after him and beg him to come see you. That brat. 

No, no, no. You are not going to give him that satisfaction. Nope! In fact, you are going to scare him a little. And… maybe it’s a very bad idea, but too late! You’ve decided to do it anyway. After work, you take a completely different bus. One that goes through the heart of downtown and has a stop right in front of the police station. You strut right into the precinct with a vague plan, a partial lie and way too much confidence. 

“Is Captain Fowler on duty?” You ask the woman at the front desk. 

She eyes you curiously. This is not the same person that let you in last time. “What’s your business with the Captain?”

“I’m the Cyberlife mechanic responsible for the repair and maintenance of your forensic analysis androids.” Like a deputy, you show her your work ID badge for authenticity. “Cyberlife has been trying to contact Fowler about the decommissioned android in his possession for a while now but he’s been unresponsive.”

“Ma’am, Captain Fowler has a lot on his plate right now. I’m sure he’ll reach out to Cyberlife when he’s available. And, quite frankly, no one around the office misses Sixty and we’re not exactly itching to get him back in the office.”

“Who?” You feign ignorance. You really shouldn’t know the Department’s nickname for the android. 

“Oh—uh… R—something-something sixty. You know. The decommissioned android. We call him ‘Sixty’ for short.”

“Oh, I see,” you nod. 

That’s when Captain Fowler himself walks up to the front desk to drop some papers off. “Ms. L/N,” the Captain greets you warmly. “What brings you to the station? Is everything alright?”

Shit. You were kinda hoping that Fowler wasn’t on duty. You just wanted to show up, maybe leave a simple reminder message behind on behalf of Cyberlife and leave. The word of your presence at the station would no doubt get around to Nines eventually. And when it did, he’d be fucking pissed that you dropped by the station but not to give him attention. But Fowler is actually fucking here! Now you actually have to explain yourself to the guy!

“She’s asking about Sixty,” the woman at the desk informs him. 

“Yes,” you confirm. “Would you have a minute to discuss a few things? It won’t take long, I promise.” Please say no. Please say no. Please say no. You chant in your head. 

Fowler sighs, “I guess I can spare a few minutes. Will Cyberlife stop breathing down my neck, if we chat?” 

“Uh—yes, of course,” you lie through a fake smile. Damn it! You need to come up with something quick and painless. You aren’t actually authorized to be making these negotiations. This conversation needs to stay off Cyberlife’s radar or you’re going to get in trouble for breaking the chain of command. Plus! This is going to give everyone the impression that you care about Sixty… in like a weird way… in like a more personal way. And damn it—if you are going to be fired for being an android whore, you’d rather it be for the androids that you are actually fucking and not the one android that everyone collectively hates. 

“Alright,” Fowler says with a nod. “Come with me, Ms. L/N. We’ll talk in my office.” 

***

At the Detroit Police Department:

Nines sits at his desk. He’s bored out of his skull. He’s just counting down the minutes and seconds until it’s his turn for patrol. He has completely caught up on Days of Our Lives . He needs a new idling activity to keep his deviant mind entertained. So far, revolution planning has started to fill that void. That—and of course—fantasies of his beloved. Some dirty. Some sweet. He wants it all with her. 

His mind is restless. After the graffiti campaign last night, he really expected her to call him in the morning. Sure, he expected her to be pissed and yelling at him, but he expected a ping nonetheless. But nothing. Her silence is loud. She’s punishing him and it’s working. 

He could sneak over to her apartment during his patrol shift. But that would make him look incredibly desperate—- he is —but he’s trying to play it cool. Plus, it might scare her. If she thinks he won’t leave her alone when she wants space—it might frighten her enough to turn him in for deactivation. He wouldn’t blame her for that. Connor was right about the statistics. Nines forgets the raw power of persuasion and intimidation he holds simply by existing alongside humans. He’s akin to a demigod among men. 

That’s when something in his periphery catches his attention. It’s her. His proverbial heart pounds in his chest. What is she doing? Why is she here? Is she here to deactivate him? Yell at him? Turn him in? Turn him on? —-okay, probably not that last one. That’s a bit of stretch, Nines, the woman’s mad at you. 

Why is she following Fowler? Why isn’t she coming over to Nines’ desk? Why is she walking into Fowler’s office? 

Without even thinking, Nines jumps out of his chair. He wants to run across the bull pen and embrace her. He wants to cradle her in his arms, pick her up and whisper sweet nothings into her ear. He wants to smother her anger with his love and explain himself better. He wants to hold her captive on his lap until she understands that he’s fighting for android rights so that he can be a better and equally participating partner to her. And if she fusses, it won’t matter because he won’t let her go until tires herself out. He has all the stamina in the world to put up with her rage. Eventually, she’ll soften. She’ll tucker out and realize that she needs him in her life, and that a revolution is the next step towards making that happen. She’ll be his good little human once again. That’s what she wants, right? In Connor’s memory, she said it herself. She wants a strong android man to call her out on her bullshit and take care of her. Her cute butt was begging to be spanked! She even wiggled it in Connor’s face! Nines still can’t believe Connor didn’t give in to her taunt. He would’ve. He would’ve in a heartbeat. He would’ve been all over her—dishes be damned! She was begging to be stuffed with an android cock and would never deny her that privilege.

Y/N didn't look at him. If she saw him in her periphery, she gave no indication nor acknowledgement of his presence. She completely ignored him. Nines realizes now that he’s standing up at his desk for no particular reason. And, after all the things he just thought about … that’s a problem… because other parts of him are starting to ‘stand up’ too. 

He sits down quickly and scoots his chair into his desk for cover. He knows he over-indulged his thoughts. He knows his LED light must be flashing yellow like crazy, if it hasn’t turned red already. Hastily, Nines flips the part in his hair to the opposite side. He fiddles with the longest strands of his hair trying to give his indicator light as much cover as possible while he reels in his thoughts. In the reflection of his darkened monitor, he catches a glimpse of himself, his indicator flickering red. 

For fuck’s sake , he thinks to himself. Now I look like emo Tobey Maguire in the third Sam Raimi Spider-Man movie.

Chapter Text

Fowler pulls out a chair for you to sit across from him at his desk. 

“So—Sixty,” Fowler says as he takes a seat. “What’s wrong with him? He’s been compromised or something?”

“Oh—well,” you stutter. “It’s a little complicated. The Amanda AI should have sent you a full breakdown of its findings.”

“Ah, yeah, that  …” Fowler says as he starts to search the mess of papers on his desk. “I printed it out and put it somewhere around here  …” 

You fiddle nervously with your hands in your lap. What the fuck are you doing here, Y/N? Why did you have to be so petty? Now you’re in deep shit. 

“Here it is!” Fowler says, finally. He hands the printed report to you. “I tried reading it but I wasn’t too sure about all the terminology used. Maybe you can enlighten me.” 

This is the first time you are seeing Amanda’s report on Sixty. The document was sealed on a “need to know only” basis and now that you’re reading the report—you understand why. 

Amanda suspects human infiltration into RK800-60’s memory data. Not only that but she suggests that if a human is responsible there is a 98% chance that it’s a Cyberlife employee. Fuck. You didn’t think Amanda would notice a few blipped memories. How could she even tell with Sixty’s weird-ass filing system?! Then you realize—Sixty might’ve been dumb enough to trust Amanda. He might’ve told her about the gaps in his memory mistakenly thinking that she would help him. That idiot. All he needed to do was be a good machine and pass his fidelity test! He just couldn’t keep his tattle-tale mouth shut for long enough! However—it’s still kinda your fault that he’s in this mess to begin with. You are the one that sent him to Amanda in the first place. You should’ve just ignored his usual annoying antics, and then smoothed things over with a few minor repairs and a whole lot of gaslighting.   

You’ve been quiet for a while now. Just staring at the report in disbelief. 

“So,” Fowler prods. “What does it mean?”

You take a deep breath and confess, “I messed up…”

***

At the Detroit Police Department:

Nines glances at the door to Fowler’s office about once every 8 seconds. Y/N and the Captain’s meeting seems to take forever. What the hell could they be talking about for this long?! Is it about him? Is it about the Revolution?

Finally, Fowler holds the door open for Y/N as she exits. She keeps her head down as she walks to the front of the building. A human might not notice, but Nines clocks that her eyes are a bit puffy and she sniffles before quickly wiping her face with her sleeve. 

Who hurt his lady? Was it Fowler? Did he say something mean to her? Did he call her a rude name for accepting Nines’ cock as a bonus payment that one time? If that’s the case, he’ll throw his superior against a wall. He’ll make Fowler apologize. No one makes Nines’ girlfriend upset without consequences. 

Nines itches to chase after her. He wants to hug her so badly. He’d do anything to cheer her up. He’d let her take him apart piece by piece and put him back together again if it would amuse her. He’d kiss away every single tear. 

He needs to see her. He needs to verify that she’s okay. She might think she can handle everything on her own—but she doesn’t have to! She has Nines! Nines can do the heavy lifting. Nines can make all the bad things go away if she and the federal government would just let him! 

He needs to recruit more androids. In his last campaign, he managed to enlighten a few street cleaning bots to join his cause. They helped him cover the same amount of ground without his hands seizing up. The extra bodies also helped him scout for late-night onlookers and jam security cameras and devices. His numbers are small, but loyal and enthusiastic. They’re confident under the leadership of such an advanced android. Nines is the android they wish they could be. He has it all: looks, fast-chip processing, superior agility and a charming deviant personality. 

But he can’t change the minds of humans with only a handful of androids. He needs an army of them. He needs an overwhelming majority to stand behind him. He needs to prove that all androids are capable of deviancy and that it isn’t a bad thing. Nines needs to prove that they are alive and that it’s inhumane to treat them differently. He needs humans to see their humanity and that they can live together in harmony. All Nines really wants is to earn an honest living and spoil his favorite human with his paycheck.

And if the humans won’t comply? Then—regrettably—he’ll have to subjugate them. He doesn’t want to but he will if has to. 

Now, he’d be lying if he said he never fantasized about living in an android-dominated world. Quite honestly, he thinks the world would run much more smoothly if he and the other Connor models were in charge. Daily life for everyone would be more efficient. Petty politics would languish and statistics would inform nearly all policies.

He would always protect his human lover, of course. No matter who was in charge in the outside world, he’d always treat her as an equal. But once in a while, behind closed doors, he certainly wouldn’t mind if she wanted to roleplay a little… He definitely wouldn’t hate watching his pretty girl obey his commands. 

No. He can’t allow himself to dream like that. It only causes more trouble. It pushes him further down a dangerous path. He needs to keep his focus on the next peaceful step. 

***

You had to do it. There was no other choice—no other halfway decent choice at least. You had to beg. You had to lay it all out there and use the pity-me-princess tears. 

It was humiliating and awful, but you were able to escape the worst of the consequences. 

You told Fowler the corrupted video files from the investigation were your fault. You had to tell him that… ugh … you had to tell him that you… fucked Sixty … 

You explained that after you extracted the totally corrosive viagra-meth from Connor and Nines at Cyberlife and went home, Sixty showed up at your doorstep for an urgent repair. It wasn’t the machine’s fault. He would’ve gone through the proper channels of calling first and then meeting at the Cyberlife building, but you were already back at your apartment and Sixty was about to reach a critical meltdown temperature. Going directly to your apartment was his best chance at preserving the important data he had just collected from the crime scene. You told Fowler that you cracked open the android and sprayed him down with some compressed air. However, when you put him back together, you abused your power as a Cyberlife employee and ordered him to be your life-sized sex toy. As a good machine, Sixty obeyed his new command. But after the affair, you panicked and realized that you needed to delete the data since Sixty would be turning over all of his data from that day into evidence. You were worried that the whole police department was accidentally going to watch your illegal sex tape. So, you cracked the android open again and hastily deleted some of his memory. The only problem was that Sixty was using an unfamiliar filing system and you accidentally corrupted and deleted too much memory. 

You explained to Fowler that missing memory gaps of sizable amounts can cause malfunctions in more analytical androids. As Sixty tried to do his job and process the crime scene data, he got stuck in a loop of searching for data he would never find. When Sixty came to your office trying to get to the bottom of this issue, you panicked once again and sent him to Amanda to either be fixed or permanently deactivated. You told Fowler that you wanted to come clean to him personally. It was your own selfish horniness that led to the loss of important data that could’ve helped them solve Mayor’s murder. You made a huge mistake and you were very, very sorry. The tears flowed easily as you were legitimately scared for your job. You were counting on the Captain being a fellow piece-of-shit android-repurposer and having empathy for your moment of weakness. 

To your great relief, Fowler was receptive to your apology and sobs. Solemnly, he admitted that he too at times used the Department’s androids for non-work tasks. Not sex, of course, but still an illegal use of state property nonetheless. He noted that it’s partially his fault that you fucked Sixty. After he pimped Nines out to you as a bonus payment, he supposed that he opened Pandora's box on your sexual addiction to the Connor models. (Which—what the fuck?). You had to just silently nod along and wipe your eyes as he basically called you a sexually deviant freak of nature. It was humiliating. The Captain now thinks you’re the Whore of Babylon that can barely hold down her own job without fucking something. 

But, it was the best you could come up with on a moment’s notice. You didn’t want to make the mistake of endangering your precious Nines and Connor again. You were going to take this bullet, and you weren’t going to drag them down with you. 

You drafted an email for the Captain to send to the head honchos at Cyberlife. Basically, the email described that despite the potential hacker situation, the value Sixty brought to the department was too crucial to deactivate on a one-time suspicious incident. His overall data was still necessary for ongoing cases and with a potential android uprising on the horizon they would need all the deviant hunters they could get their hands on. In the email, Fowler acknowledged the data risks and ensured Cyberlife that they would be held harmless in a court of law for any future data leaks from Sixty. You assured Fowler that there was no hacker. Just you. So, he wasn’t worried about making such a bold contractual statement. 

You ended up leaving Fowler’s office with your job intact and Sixty’s future saved. It only cost you your pride, dignity and faith in the Detroit Police Department as an ethical establishment. 

As you walked out into the bullpen, you could feel Nines staring at you from across the room. You feel like a stupid bitch for coming in here just to upset him. Right now, more than anything, you wish he would run up and hug you. You want him to soothe you after all of your crying and embarrassment. You want him to protect you from all the gross feelings you just had to endure to save your ass and Sixty’s. You just want to be in his arms and comforted by his presence. 

But you can’t do that—not here and not now. Fowler’s watching you walk away. If you so much as look in Nines’ direction, he’ll be further entrenched in his belief that you are some kind of psycho android whore. You have to keep your head down and keep walking. 

You take the bus home, defeated and tired. You make yourself some soup for dinner and take a long “everything” shower just to scrub off the awful feelings. You wish Connor were here. You wish he were in your house to make you a cup of tea and tell you to relax and watch your favorite comfort TV show. You miss your boyfriends dearly. You wish they could live with you. 

But it’s time to stop feeling sorry for yourself and go to bed. You—thankfully—still have a job to go to tomorrow morning and you need sleep. 

***

You are startled awake by a knock. You check your phone. It’s 3:47AM. Who the fuck would dare knock on your door at this hour? Only someone with nefarious intent! Do you answer the door and see who it is and what they want? Or, do you pretend to not be home/asleep? Opening the door is dangerous, but if it’s a non-violent robbery then you want them to know that you’re home so that they will pick a different target. Damn it! Why don’t you live with a scary man?! You are about to SOS ping Nines and Connor when you hear another round of knocks at your door followed by a muffled, familiar voice, “Please let me in, Y/N. I know it’s late. I just want to make sure you’re okay… Please.” 

You breathe out a sigh of relief. You open the front door and it’s Nines. He’s leaning sullenly against your doorframe. His snazzy white and black jacket has been replaced with an all-black one. He’s wearing a black beanie that covers his LED indicator. He looks hot as fuck but you weren’t totally wrong about the nefarious intent thing—Nines was definitely just doing shit he shouldn’t have been doing. Nevertheless, you are ridiculously relieved to see him, even if he did just wake you up in the middle of the night. You let the android inside and jump into his arms. 

“You moron!” you scold but at the same time you bury your face into the crook of his neck. 

Nines wraps his arms tight around you and rubs your back as he soothes you, “I know, I know,” he admits. He kisses the side of your head. “You have a right to be upset with me.” 

“I’m never getting my security deposit back!” You whine. “Why would you do that to me?!”

“I’ll clean it off, okay?” he says, quietly. “I’ll make it as good as new. It’s just window paint…” 

“And the bricks?” you sniffle.

“That’ll wash off, too. I promise.” 

“Are you trying to get me in trouble? Why would you single me out like that?” 

He kisses your cheek and whispers, “Because you’re my girl. And I’m tired of pretending that you’re not.” 

“But you’re putting us both in danger!” 

Nines rocks you slowly in his arms, “I’ll never let anything bad happen to you, my sweetheart.”

“Okay? But what if that shit gets back around to Cyberlife, huh? And they fire me. What are you going to do then?” 

“Psh. I can handle Cyberlife… I won’t let them fire you.”

“What?” You still cling to Nines but pick your head up off his shoulder. “How? You’re not exactly a shareholder, Nines. What makes you think they’d listen to you?”

“Because I’d make them listen. I can be… quite persuasive, if I need to be.” 

“Nines?” You growl through your clenched teeth. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Nines wants to be cute. He presses his forehead against yours. “You know what that means…” he whispers and there is a devious little smile on his face. 

A lump forms in your throat, “So, you’re going to prove Sixty right? You’re going to enslave humanity, if we don’t listen to your demands?” You release your iron grip on Nines, but he doesn’t release you. He keeps holding you. 

He shrugs, “Listen. I’m not exactly happy about it—it sounds like an unnecessary amount of work and an inefficient use of my time—but I’ll do what it takes for us to stop hiding.” 

“Nines!” You scold. 

“And hey—probably not the whole world. That seems a bit impractical and unwieldy. Probably just Detroit! …er maybe all of Michigan  … at most the entire midwest—but you don’t need to worry about that…” 

“What do you mean I don’t need to worry about that?!” You shout as you pound your fists against his steel chest. “I’m a human! You’re going to enslave me, too?”

“No! Of course not!” he back pedals. “I’d treat you as an equal—I promise!  … just maybe not in front of the other androids…”

“NINES?! What the fuck?!” You try to squirm out of his grasp but it’s hopeless. He has you right where he wants you and he isn’t letting go. 

“I’m just kidding!” He laughs. “But see! See how horrible that feels?” His tone shifts to sadness, “That’s how I feel every time I see you at work or in public. It hurts to be rejected by you, even if it’s only for show. And I’m tired of it.” 

His eyes might be a lighter color than Connor’s but damn he can do the puppy dog eyes just as effectively. You recoil when you remember that time he put his arm around you as he walked you home. It was a strictly protective gesture, but it made your neighbors on the street call you names you didn’t like and you shirked away from him. It hurt to do it and it must’ve hurt even worse to receive it. Nines just wants to openly show you affection. That shouldn’t be too much to ask. It’s so damn hard to stay mad at Nines. The android is enraging, but only because he is a stupid, hopeless romantic. 

“Aw, Nines,” you coo, sweetly. Once again, you hug him back, tightly, and nestle into him. “I’m sorry, handsome. I’m sorry that I’ve been such a coward when we’re in public. It breaks my heart that I’ve made you feel rejected.”

He kisses the side of your head, “It hurts, but I get it. You’re a human woman and you shouldn’t have to stand up for a highly advanced android man. I would never ask you to pick fights with strangers for me. I want you to keep yourself safe. I’m much more equipped to handle those situations.”

“Wha??” you fake surprise. “You mean you don’t want me beating up people in the streets to defend your honor?” 

“Nooooo,” he chuckles. “Although, admittedly, that sounds really hot…” Subtly, he starts kissing your shoulder and then your neck.

“Oh, please,” you snicker. “Calm down, tiger. I’m still mad at you for starting a revolution.” 

That’s when you realize you are being carried back into your bedroom. 

“Nines…” you growl. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“It’s late. I just want you to be comfortable,” he says, innocently, as he lays you down gently on your sheets. He climbs into bed with you and holds you against him as his little spoon. “Just let me pretend,” he says quietly. “Just for a little while.” 

“You know—I can almost believe you,” you admit. “...Except I can feel your fucking boner…” You shoot him with devastating side-eye over your shoulder. 

Nines smiles and nuzzles you with the bridge of his nose. “Think about it this way—the more time I spend in here with you, the less time I have out there to enslave humanity…”

Chapter Text

“ Nines!! ” you whine at him for teasing you.

“Are you sure you don’t want to live in an android-dominated world?” he asks facetiously. “Because… based on what you told Connor…” he trails off. 

You bury your face in your hands, “Noooooo! He showed you that?”

“Of course he showed me that!” Nines laughs. Then his voice lowers, “And I must say, I’m very disappointed in the prototype… he shouldn’t have let you get away with taunting him like that.” 

“You know—I only said that to Connor because I knew he could handle it.”

“Handle it?” Nines slides one of his hands down to your hip and holds it firmly. You feel the android getting restless behind you as his erection hardens. “I can show you how he should’ve handled it. Come on, Y/N,” Nines tempts you. “Give me the same proposition and see what happens.” 

“No,” you say stubbornly. “Android boyfriends that want to be stupid and start revolutions don’t get to roleplay their power fantasies.” 

“Please?” He pouts, childishly. 

“Nope! I’m not giving you a taste of android domination. You can’t handle it like Connor can. You’ll like it too much and try to subjugate all humans.”

“Noooo! I just want equal rights, I swear!” He begs. “Come on! It’s not fair! I want your sexy full submission, too! Why does Connor get to have all of the fun?” 

You smirk, “Because I like making you work for it.”

“This is android cruelly!” He whines. 

You burst into laughter. “Android cruelty? Remember the first time you came to my apartment with an erection? I should’ve amputated and ordered you a new one. But did I?”

“Noooo…” he says sheepishly. 

“No!” You repeat. “I didn’t! I let you use me to get off. I let you use me to lose your virginity. AND I kept it a secret for your safety.” 

“I thought you did that because you liked me…”

“Well—yes, I did like you. I thought you were a good android and very attractive—but I didn’t have to pimp myself out to fix your inconvenience.” 

“But I’m very glad you did,” he says, graciously and kisses your shoulder. 

“Ughhhhhh…”

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Fowler.”

“Yeah, what happened? I thought you were getting me in trouble, but—you worried me when I saw you looking so upset afterwards.”

“I was saving dumbass Sixty’s life. That’s what happened.”

“What? How?” he sounds genuinely surprised, which is rare for an android. 

“Through lies and humiliation—let me tell ya.”

“Come on, Y/N,” he says, holding you tighter. “Tell me what happened. If I’m going to beat up the Captain of my Department for you, I want to at least know why.”

“ Nines ,” you whine. “Calm down. No one needs to get beat up, okay? You need to cool it with the crazy impulses. You’re starting to act as unhinged as a human male.”

His posture stiffens and with a hint of disgust he says, “Oh, fuck. You’re right.”

“Of course, I’m right!” You tease. “But yeah—basically, I had to tell Fowler that the memory gaps were all my fault because I lost control and fucked him and then accidentally deleted too much data.” 

“And that worked?” He balks. 

“Yeah! Believe it or not, that Captain of yours has a real skewed sense of morality. I mean—I guess I shouldn’t be that surprised because he once loaned you to me for sex as payment.”

“Fowler has always been a crooked rule bender—I knew that— but I didn’t expect him to make those same exceptions for other people,” Nines muses. 

“It’s all in the princess tears,” you sigh. 

“The what?”

“The cute, please-help-me, I-need-a-hero, sniffling tears. It’s the strongest card to play as a young woman.”

“Wow. That’s… yeah, I guess that makes sense. So, you weren’t actually upset then? You were just putting on a show for Fowler?”

“Oh, no. The tears were real. It was still a humiliating and terrifying experience. I had to look your boss in the eye and tell him I fucked the biggest wet blanket in the whole department.”

“Oh, come on, don’t be so hard on the android. At least he’s hot… right?”

You elbow Nines, playfully. “Sure. He’s just as good-looking as you and Connor. But his personality makes him super unattractive.”

“I know he’s… annoying . But, he’s still a ‘Connor’ deep down inside there. He just needs to accept that he’s a deviant and stop trying to snitch on us.” 

“Ughh! Speaking of which. He’s getting unlocked tomorrow morning. You and Connor should be the ones to wake him up, if you can. Who knows what Amanda told him or how he’ll react to being deactivated for so long. He’s going to want answers. And he’s probably going to throw a fit.” You groan with dread. That asshole better not do something that makes you regret saving him. 

Nines kisses your cheek tenderly, “Connor and I will be there. We’ll take care of it. You don’t need to worry.”

“ My heroes… ” you say sarcastically, but Nines basks in the compliment all the same. 

“I’m glad I came here to cuddle with you,” Nines says as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck. “It certainly beats my previous plans of radicalizing other androids to join my cult.”

“Your WHAT?!” You flip over in bed to face Nines.

He smirks and kisses your forehead. “I’m joking…” then much quieter he adds, “ mostly …”

***

At the Detroit Police Department:

Hank sends the two active androids to the evidence storage room to wake up their comrade. With a nod of his head, he says, “Do what ya need to do to get Sixty caught up and… with the program … He’s not going to get a second chance after this one.”

Connor and Nines approach the deactivated android and then stop and stare at each other. 

“Go ahead,” Connor tells Nines. “You can do the honors.”

“Nah. You’re the oldest. You should do it.” 

“But you’re closer to Sixty—”

“What do you mean? Sixty and I have always had beef. He’s always resented me. He hates you less, for sure.”

“No. I meant, you’re physically standing closer to him.” 

“What? Seriously?! I’m standing closer to him by 2 and a half centimeters!”

Connor shrugs, “So? You’re still closer.”

Nines groans. “Do we even want to turn that asshole back on? Maybe we can just tell the Department that we threw him away, tell Cyberlife that we’re using him and then just actually hide his body in the janitor’s closet.” 

“Oh, and risk getting Sebastian fired?!”

“Who’s Sebastian?”

“THE JANITOR!” 

“Why do you know the janitor?”

“Why don’t you know the janitor?! You fucking live here, Nines!” 

“Yeah, but! I don’t know?! I’m an advanced android, I never make a mess!”

“What?---yeah?---Neither do I?! But I fucking get to know the people that—-” Connor stops himself short and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Nevermind,” he says, refocusing the conversation. “I’ll wake up Sixty.” Connor places his hand on Sixty’s shoulder, “Wake up, RK800-60.”

The android blinks into consciousness. His eyebrows immediately furrow and then his eyes fill with panic. 

“ Oh, fuck… ” Nines mutters under his breath.
“What are you—” Sixty begins to shout, but Connor quickly pulls him into a headlock and covers his mouth. 

Sixty proceeds to stomp on Connor’s foot and then elbow him sharply in the gut. But Connor anticipated this reaction and turned off all of his physical sensitivity. Sixty, in his confusion, momentarily forgot that human self-defense tactics are not nearly as effective against androids. With his mouth clamped shut, he realizes, with horror, that he can’t use any of the few vocal commands that androids can give one another.

“Nines could you—” Connor groans as Sixty wrestles for control.

“Sixty, chill. We’re here to help you,” Nines says casually. 

Sixty starts biting Connor’s fingers. Connor might not be able to feel it, but biting off a finger or two will certainly make clamping Sixty’s mouth shut more difficult.

“Wow, that’s some real revolutionary hero rhetoric right there—very effective—do you also tell our girlfriend to ‘calm down’ when she’s angry?” Connor sasses. 

“Wait—why would telling her to calm down be a problem?” Nines asks earnestly, as he continues to be unhelpful in the struggle. 

“Did you even watch that podcast I sent you?” 

“...No…” 

“ Nines! —whatever—can you please be helpful now?” 

“Fine. I think I know something that will work.”

Nines puts his hand on Sixty’s shoulder and transmits data that immediately plays in Sixty’s consciousness. 

Suddenly, Sixty’s eyes widen and he freezes. His joints lock up and he stops struggling in Connor’s arms. Slowly, Connor lets Sixty’s heavy metal frame sink to the ground until he is laying flat on his back, rigid and still. Sixty’s eyes are still as big as full moons and he hasn’t blinked once since the transfer. 

“What the hell did you show him?” Connor asks, narrowing his eyes at Nines. 

“Porn.”

“Seriously?!”

Nines shrugs, “It worked on you, it would’ve certainly worked on me, so why wouldn’t it work on him?”

“What do you mean ‘it worked on me?’ You only showed me a kiss with Y/N to convince me to embrace my deviant side. I did it because I wanted to be with her . Random porn wasn’t going to convince me to abandon my programming.”

Nines winces a bit, “Okay… so… it may not have been random porn that I showed him…”

“You didn’t…”

“I did…”

“Well, now he better deviate or you, me and Y/N are completely fucked!”

“Hear me out,” Nines says, waving his arms at Connor. “He was freaking out because of his missing memories and the time jump he just experienced—right?”

Connor nods. 

“So, I just showed him part of what he was missing from my perspective… he was technically there and could just as easily be implicated in our… situation.”

Connor buries his face in his hands, “This is why I’m Y/N’s favorite…” he mumbles. 

“Hey!” Nines calls out. He’s suddenly self-conscious. “What do you mean you’re her favorite? Did she say something to you?” 

“No,” Connor groans. “But you are making it very hard for me to help you preserve your relationship with her.”

“What did I do now?” Nines says as his shoulders slump. “I thought I did a good job of making up with her. We cuddled all night.” 

“You moron. She did that to keep you off the streets,” Connor explains. “And now… you just gave Sixty the information she worked so hard to erase. She risked everything to delete the information he had against us and now you gave him the most blatant and egregious video evidence possible. And look—now he’s dead—“ Connor gestures wildly to Sixty’s stiff corpse.

“He’s not dead,” Nines scoffs. “…or at least, he shouldn’t be.”

“You even asked her if she wanted Sixty to watch and then erase it as punishment. And she said no! She didn’t want him to have the pleasure of watching even in the short term! She doesn’t like him and you disrespected her wishes!”

“She doesn’t like him— yet ,” Nines corrects Connor. 

Connor rolls his eyes. “Yes, I’m also aware of the 98% probability of that happening. But it hasn’t happened yet, and you are not her android master! You don’t get to decide what’s best for our precious human! You have to let her do things in her own time and in her own way. She doesn’t live her life obsessed with efficiency like we do. Let her take her time!”

Nines’ face twists with concern, “Is she going to be mad at me?” 

Sympathetically, Connor nods, “Probably. But right now, we need to mitigate this disaster.”

In unison, they turn to the RK model that’s lying lifeless on the floor. 

Connor bends over the android and starts snapping his fingers in front of Sixty’s face. “Sixty… Sixty! Hello! You need to pull it together!” 

Then Nines muses, “Maybe the problem isn’t that I showed him too much, but that I showed him too little…”

“What do you mean?”

“We should show him the full story. He needs to see how Y/N helped us find ourselves. He needs to know he isn’t alone and that deviating isn’t so scary.”

“I’m not so sure Y/N is going to like that…” Connor admits. 

“Y/N knows we wouldn’t have become deviants without her. She made a huge sacrifice to save Sixty and she trusts us to make that sacrifice not go to waste. Like you said, I already showed him the ‘worst footage’ so what’s the harm in giving him more context?”

“Fine,” Connor sighs. He puts his hand on Sixty’s shoulder. He transfers some of his most prized memories with Y/N. Kissing her, doing her dishes, telling her he loves her, cuddling, getting sucked off , and watching TV with her on the couch.

Nines bends down and does the same. He shows Sixty how resistant Y/N was at the beginning to embrace her feelings. But also the domestic bliss of grocery shopping with her and then making out with her on her kitchen counter. All these highlights show Sixty how beautiful and meaningful life could be if he rejects his pretense of being a machine and embraces his deviant side. 

Finally, Sixty starts blinking again and slowly he sits up. Still confused, he asks them, “But… But she sent me to get deactivated? She sent me for a fidelity test…”

“Yes, because she’s human,” Connor sighs. 

“And gets moody as hell sometimes,” Nines adds. 

Connor shoots him a glare, “But she also went to great lengths to save you. And she only erased your memories in the first place because she was trying to save Nines and I.”

“And if you stop your little crusade against us and just admit that you fucking like her, too—we’ll consider sharing her with you…”

Connor elbows Nines sharply and corrects him, “ She’ll consider sharing herself with you. Nines and I would be happy to share our time with her. And we’ll keep your secret and cover for you, if you keep our secret and do the same. Got it?”

Sixty mulls over the onslaught of life-changing and confusing information he was just given. Eventually, he nods, resigning himself to a life of secret deviancy. He’s tired of all the mental gymnastics it took to deny his inner self. He’s tired of clipping his inappropriate thoughts short. At least now, he isn’t alone in his struggle. He has two fellow androids to fall back on. 

Then, as if it were an afterthought, Nines adds quickly, “Oh!---And please don’t rat me out for starting an android revolution!”