How dare you come into my house and shame me to my face
me talking to my brain as i try to go to sleep
Summary: Connor likes to explore his identity in bits and pieces, understanding what makes him himself one slice of life at a time. When Valentine’s Day rolls around, that’s when he first starts wondering about romance. Or: Connor’s coming out, first to himself and then to others.
Truth: time to cut off this kid’s leg to teach him a lesson I guess
Ed, an 8 year old child, not a moment later, kicking down The Gate to wrestle the soul of his brother back from Literal God with his bare fists and sheer rage:
Truth: What In The Absolute Fuck Kid
Just so y’all know: current plan is to finish chapter 10 of You, Robot just so I can let those readers know where I disappeared to and where I’m going, and then I’m going to focus the next five chapters of ‘What Does A Deviant Fear?’ real hard, I miss that story so much and the next chapter is funny
Summary: Connor likes to explore his identity in bits and pieces, understanding what makes him himself one slice of life at a time. When Valentine’s Day rolls around, that’s when he first starts wondering about romance. Or: Connor’s coming out, first to himself and then to others.
“Lieutenant, can you explain the concept of romantic love?”
Hank choked on his coffee, sending it sputtering in front of him as he coughed violently, setting the mug down hard on the table in front of him. Connor had to hide a grin, patting the man on the back to help him along until the man inevitably waved him off, still coughing.
“What the fuck,” Hank wheezed, once a few minutes had passed.
“I noticed the last time I went to the grocery store that some of the decorations had changed and a previously generic aisle had been redesigned to suit,” Connor explained, leaning against the table to idly monitor Hank’s respiration as it returned to baseline. “The last time this happened was when Christmas was coming up, if you recall, so I did some research, and my system database indicated that the occasion in question was Valentine’s Day. I thought you’d be able to explain it to me.”
“You fucker,” Hank complained, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. He immediately took another deep swig of the coffee, pointedly ignoring Connor’s small smirk, and set it down again. “Ugh.”
“That’s not very helpful, Lieutenant,” Connor said mildly.
“Ugh,” Hank repeated, with extra emphasis. “Alright. Okay. Fine. Do we have to do this now?”
Connor quirked an eyebrow at him, head tilting a little. Hank scowled back. Their bickering attracted Tina’s attention, and she sauntered over and plopped herself down with her own cup of coffee in hand.
“Anything causing the lieutenant that much visible anguish has my attention,” she announced, fixing avidly curious eyes on Connor. “What’s up?”
“I asked him to explain romantic love,” Connor informed her.
“Yeah, that would do it,” she snorted, a delighted smirk pulling across her mouth. “I’m so glad you decided to do this in public, and also in my vicinity, because this is way too much fun to pass up. He’s not gonna help you though. What did you want to know?”
Connor considered her for a moment, weighing the pros and cons of indulging her, but he was the one who’d decided to do this in a public avenue. “How do you recognize it?”
“Ooh,” she crooned gleefully. “That’s a fun one. Alright, so romantic love, that almost always starts with crushes.”
“Who has a crush?” Chris asked, appearing beside them. Hank seemed to have retreated into misery, scowling at the table and looking like he wished his coffee was spiked with something unhealthy. “Not you, I hope.”
“Fuck you, Chris,” Tina said without heat. “We’re explaining romance to Connor.”
“No, you’re not,” Connor disagreed, bringing a fist up to support his cheek idly.
“I’m getting to it,” Tina assured him. “Crushes, do you ever look at someone and just get excited to be around them? Maybe nervous? You know, butterflies in your stomach, fluttering heart, all that wonderful teenager stuff.”
Connor’s mind unwillingly shot to Markus. “No,” he said, a touch too quickly.
Tina looked skeptical, but didn’t push the issue. “Whatever, you’ll know it when you feel it.”
“Okay, but that’s not all there is to it,” Chris argued, and Connor shifted his gaze to him, hoping he would be more helpful. Chris shot him a small grin. “Romantic love kinda follows you your whole life. Crushes are part of it, but it matures over time. Your partner’s supposed to support you no matter what, even when things get hard. That’s the beauty of it though.”
“Chris is being sappy because every time he and his wife argue, they talk it through and fall even more in love,” Tina explained to Connor, who was at this point just growing increasingly confused.
“Why are we explaining the intricacies of successful marriages?” Ben asked, appearing by Hank and leaning on the table. “Not that I’m complaining, but I think the only ones married here are Chris and I.”
“Connor is asking about romance,” Chris explained to Ben. “Tina decided to save Hank the suffering.”
All of them looked at Hank, who had one hand covering his face, trying to tune out the conversation.
“And I decided to pitch in,” Chris finished, with an almost apologetic tone to his voice.
“I’m beginning to think I should have suffered in silence,” Connor mused aloud, trying not to smile. He wasn’t expecting this to be an actively popular topic, but he didn’t think he’d had a conversation this active or friendly with his coworkers before, and certainly not so many at once.
“You really should have,” Hank groaned, kicking him under the table. Connor kicked him back shamelessly, and Hank cursed, giving him a dirty look, to which Connor tilted his head innocently.
“You’ll understand when you get a girlfriend,” Ben told Connor kindly, smile faintly bemused. “Maybe that nice girl from analytics.”
Tina clapped. “Oh, that’s a good example! Connor, you know Alicia?”
Connor nodded cautiously, head tilting. “Yes? She’s rather nice but a little strange.”
“That’s because she has a crush on you,” Tina explained earnestly. “She talks to you a lot with really flimsy reasoning, right? And she stutters and blushes and does you favors?”
“Yes…” Connor said, slow and cautious as he tried to follow, a little overwhelmed now. “What… do I do about this?”
“Oh god,” Hank groaned. Connor took the initiative and kicked him first this time.
“You don’t have to do anything,” Chris provided with a sympathetic smile. “But you’d definitely have more than a fair chance, if you want to ask her out. You probably get a little nervous around her too, right? Maybe want to get to know her better?”
“Your heart should beat fast,” Ben added, with a touch of wistfulness to his voice. “Maybe you want to show off and impress her. Young love is something special.”
Connor shook his head, increasingly flustered and starting to regret bringing up the topic more sincerely.
“I don’t,” he protested. “I just noticed that she was acting strangely.” He’d actually been a little concerned, and he wasn’t sure he felt any better about it now. How was he supposed to respond to a girl with a crush on him? This certainly wasn’t in his programming.
“Thank god,” Hank muttered, and then, clearer, bumping Connor more gently, “Then she’s flat out of luck, and you don’t have to do anything except maybe let her down nice if you feel like it.”
Connor hummed with some distress, finally reaching out to do some quick supplementary research, and then, after a few moments, said, “My research indicates that not all couples are a woman and a man?”
His mind flicked to the Tracis, two girls wrapped together like that would protect them from the rest of the world.
“He gets it,” Tina said with obvious pleasure, jabbing her thumb at Connor.
“Most couples are,” Ben corrected, with an almost apologetic bent.
Connor started to reply, but was distracted when someone else finally came into the break room, and a quick glance told Connor that it was Detective Reed who’d entered. Instantly, a smirk shot across Connor’s face and he called out,
“Detective Reed, look at me!”
Detective Reed turned around, a faintly confused scowl on his face as he stopped fumbling for a mug.
“Bitch,” Connor said clearly, and Reed sputtered.
The other four humans collapsed into various forms of laughter, and that was the end of that conversation. But Connor kept thinking about it, even when he went back to work and long after Hank had put it out of his mind.
Hank wasn’t able to put it out of his mind for long, because soon after that, Connor started playing love songs in a wide variety of genres whenever the radio was silent for more than a few minutes.
The nature of the activity wasn’t itself particularly unusual; Connor spent quite a lot of time exploring new possible interests whenever they were drawn to his attention, and Hank had been kind enough to give him space to do so. The man had put up with classical, rap, movie soundtracks, and electrobeat as Connor tested them all out by turn.
Apparently Hank drew the line at Kelly Clarkson.
“Can’t you play this shit in your head?” Hank demanded of Connor, less than a week into his newest curiosity. He looked exceptionally sullen, slumped against the arm of the couch and making quiet, irritable groaning noises.
Connor would argue that he looked like a petulant child. It wouldn’t be the first time.
“I could,” Connor said agreeably, “but this is one of the few occasions where doing so externally is genuinely better than keeping it within my system.” Transmitting sound data directly into his mind wasn’t quite the same as listening to it play.
“Wasn’t it enough to put me through that whole talk at work?” Hank demanded of him. “You gotta subject me to Taylor Swift all day too?”
“I don’t know how to tell you this,” Connor deadpanned, glancing over at Hank, “but none of you were actually very helpful.” But Hank’s continual protests were starting to put a knot in his chest, and before he could think better of it, he asked, “Is there a reason you’re so reluctant to help me explore this particular topic, Lieutenant?”
Hank went still for a moment, and Connor winced as he realized what had caught his attention. Connor only called him ‘Lieutenant’ at home when he was uncomfortable. But he couldn’t help it; Hank was usually so unconditionally supportive of any moves Connor made to explore his opinions, so this uncharacteristic protest was making him nervous.
“Hell,” he sighed, obviously frustrated. “It’s just- a messy topic, Con. I never really got the hang of it myself. That’s why I have an ex-wife instead of a wife.” Connor bit his cheek, trying to push his scattered thoughts together into a response, but when Hank looked over at him, the man’s expression relaxed a little, resigned instead of annoyed. “Most people go through their first fumbling relationships when they’re teenagers. I guess you didn’t exactly get that chance though.”
“I was never a teenager, Hank,” Connor reminded the other, trying to force the anxiety in his chest to ease. Hank rolled his eyes, but relaxed noticeably.
“Yeah, no shit. Anyway, I’ll put up with it, I guess. God knows I have practice.”
That made Connor curious, but not enough to ask. “Appreciated.”
So Connor kept running through them, shifting quickly from genre to genre but sticking to the main topic. He found that he preferred love songs by women, and liked the heartbroken ones as much as he did the longing and lovestruck ones, and otherwise his genre preferences had remained rather uniform: metal and rock were his favorite, pop was okay, and country and hip-hop were out of the question.
A few times, he tried to imagine what kind of woman he might want to date, but his mind skittered over the idea without catching on anything, and eventually he accepted the defeat with as much grace as he could. Maybe it was simply something he couldn’t guess before he tried. (Or maybe it was just another way Connor was failing to understand.)
Hank assured him, gruffly, that he’d probably work it out in time – he always had more faith in Connor than Connor had in himself, even if he was usually reluctant to express it.
Connor himself, of course, wasn’t nearly so sure. Who would even want to love Connor so intimately? Connor was… well. Connor. The reasons not to like him couldn’t be counted on fingers.
He didn’t say that to Hank, of course, and it didn’t stop him from thinking about it.
In the immediate wake of this, Connor came to New Jericho’s headquarters on a social call.
It wasn’t something he made a point of doing. Actually, it was something he’d tried his very best not to do, not wanting to cause the androids of New Jericho any more discomfort than was strictly necessary to perform his duties. Even social calls as a more general concept were foreign to him. What would they even do? Most of the time, Connor either followed Hank’s lead or entertained himself alone. Group activities were new territory, and he was as unsure of himself as he ever was.
But Markus had asked. Connor rarely found it in himself to deny Markus anything.
So he met Josh at the front door of the headquarters and followed him inside, keeping quiet and awkward. Josh would be a reassuring presence if Connor weren’t so nervous just to be around him – he kept up a litany of neutral-ground questions about work and about Hank, and accepted Connor’s stilted answers without any evident frustration.
“W-what were you and the others planning on doing tonight?” Connor blurted out eventually, and winced when he realized that it had no relevance to the question Josh had just asked about Sumo.
Josh favored him with a small smile and Connor looked away quickly, self-conscious.
“We were thinking about just watching a movie,” Josh said conversationally. “North gets testy when we try to talk work on Saturday nights, and movies aren’t something any of us except Markus have a lot of experience with. It’s nice.” Josh considered. “Well, Simon knows some, but they’re mostly for kids.”
He sounded very pleased, Connor thought, and it made sense. All of them were still working on finding their footing in a world that, while not exactly safe, was no longer quite so actively attacking them.
“What kinds of movies?” Connor ventured after a moment, still stiff and nervous despite his own best efforts.
“Well, North likes action movies, of course,” Josh said with a roll of his eyes. “The more violence, the better. Simon likes the absolute trashiest romances-”
“Can we try one of those?” Connor asked without thinking, and cringed as he realized he’d interrupted Josh, who was blinking at him, startled. He ducked his head. “Sorry.”
They reached a door, and Josh pushed it open to go through, bemused gaze still lingering on Connor. “I didn’t think you’d like that sort of thing – I kind of figured you’d be on North’s side, honestly.”
Before Connor had a chance to answer, Markus called out, “Connor, Josh, hello!”
Connor started and shrank in on himself a little, irrationally startled, and he lingered back to examine the room while Josh talked to Markus. It was nothing special, certainly nothing to indicate it was in one of the most important buildings in Detroit – an old TV system and a couple of battered couches, one of which Markus and Simon were sharing, and one of which had North flung over most of it, tossing her ball in the air with an aura of general impatience. When she caught Connor looking, she raised a lazy hand in greeting, and he relaxed a little and nodded back.
Connor would never tell any of them this, but he was by far the most comfortable with North out of any of them. It wasn’t that she was the least suspicious – she’d actually been by far the most so for over a month – but they were… more alike, than the others.
Connor wasn’t sure he could ever be truly comfortable with Josh when his first instinct when he was scared was still, after all this time he’d been deviant, to lash out with all of the prowess of his combat program. Even if he didn’t usually do it. (Usually. Hank had, once, almost gotten a black eye from startling him.)
It was a little better with Markus, who was patient and calm but certainly had the resolve to fight if he ever needed it, and Simon, who would fight if he thought it was the only way out. But not much.
They could, and if they really had to they would, but they didn’t hurt people like he did. And there was nothing Connor could do to match that.
Connor left Markus and Josh to go perch on the end of North’s couch. “Josh said you like action movies,” he said without preamble, glancing at the still-off television screen.
North grinned at him. “They’re better than anything else we can find. You joining me on that?”
Connor shrugged. He’d liked comedies so far, but he actually hadn’t explored much beyond what Hank had insisted he see yet.
“He actually asked for one of Simon’s bad romances,” Josh provided with a grin, apparently catching their conversation. Connor heated up, embarrassed, and Simon beamed at him, bright and sparkling.
“Oh my god, why,” North said with exaggerated affront, and this time Connor had to fight his grin down.
“I’m just exploring the idea,” he protested, focusing deliberately on North’s exasperated expression to avoid the reactions of the three others. “I’ve been curious about the idea of romance since shortly before Valentine’s Day. I haven’t had much exposure to it in any form.”
North’s nose wrinkled with a more genuine displeasure, though it wasn’t specifically directed at him. “Who fucking needs that anyway,” she muttered.
Both his eyebrows rising, Connor glanced at Markus inquisitively. He didn’t disappoint.
“North and I broke up last month,” he explained, with only a small amount of regret in his voice. “Things were getting… let’s say, a little too intense.”
“He means we argued so much that we made up more than we got along,” North clarified, not quite bitter but definitely irritated. “Not exactly life partner material.” She threw a look over her shoulder. “Should’ve gone with Josh after all.”
Connor was confused until Josh objected, “Just because Markus swings that way doesn’t mean I do.”
“Thanks, guys,” Markus said, wearily enough that even North looked briefly apologetic. He glanced at Connor and elaborated with a wry smile, “I had a crush on Josh too, during the revolution, but that was kind of a dead end and there wasn’t exactly time to think about it anyway.”
Connor glanced between the four of them slowly, playing catch up. “You’re bisexual,” he concluded at last, unable to help a spark of interest.
Markus’ smile eased, his shoulders dropping, and he nodded. “Something like that. Josh is straight, though, and North is…”
“Working on it,” North finished for him, audibly dismissive. “Not.”
Connor considered this for a moment, glancing between them, but was interrupted before he could finish processing; he was finding himself a little tongue-tied. Possibly Hank’s embarrassment concerning the topic was infectious.
“Oh no,” Simon said suddenly, with slow-dawning dismay. “I didn’t even think about it.”
Josh twisted to stare at him, distracted. “You love romance.”
“That’s other people,” Simon explained earnestly, looking distressed. Connor almost smiled.
“I’m just curious,” he said, as honestly as he could. He was probably straight, according to Ben and some of Hank’s own implications, but they all sounded so confident that he didn’t feel secure enough to actually say so.
Markus smiled at him, and Connor averted his eyes, embarrassed. “That’s fine. I’m sure there’s quite a lot of androids who haven’t even started thinking about romance just yet.”
Connor smiled a little, some of the tension draining out of him, and North cleared her throat loudly.
“Okay, but let’s get back to the point,” she said loudly. “Which is, there’s no way I’m sitting through another goddamn Hallmark movie.”
Simon made a low protesting noise, and Connor deflated a little, though he hadn’t really expected his request to make an impact anyway.
“Compromise,” Josh said firmly. “I’m sure we can find an action movie with a romance subplot.”
“Yeah, like we can find one without one,” North grumbled.
“But what do you and Markus like?” Connor asked earnestly, leaning forward to listen even as Josh went to join Markus and Simon on the other couch.
“Fantasy, mostly,” Josh confessed with a shrug. “I’m a little tired of history, if I’m honest.” There was a touch of humor to his tone, and Connor nodded his understanding. “And Markus likes the indie stuff.”
“It’s creative,” Markus said defensively, and Connor had to laugh.
Tina wasn’t sure when Connor had picked up the habit of bringing everyone coffee toward the end of the workday, but it had certainly endeared him to the rest of the precinct. It probably had something to do with the fact that he was always finished a good hour before the rest of them. If he wasn’t bringing them coffee, he’d just spend the end of the day fidgeting restlessly, or else he’d start on the backlog of paperwork that had never gotten done.
It was around that time of day again and Connor appeared from the breakroom with a labeled paper cup for each of them, bringing it around – first to Hank, who had certain privileges as Connor’s blatant favorite. Then Ben, and Tina made grabby hands when Connor came by her that made him visibly bite down a smile.
Connor bypassed Gavin entirely, which made him scowl, and Tina saw Connor cast a lightning-quick glance over his shoulder to smirk at the man’s reaction. He gave one to Chris, to Wilson, to Person, and he only came around back to Gavin once he’d given one to every other officer waiting.
Gavin’s coffee, it developed, was labeled ‘Rat Man’. Tina hid a grin behind her fist, and Gavin’s outrage grew visibly.
“You got something to say to me, tin can?” Gavin demanded of Connor, who raised his eyebrows.
“I’ve heard some of the other officers refer to you as such,” he said innocently, eyes glittering. “There’s really no reason for me not to do the same.”
Gavin shook the coffee angrily at Connor and swore as some of it splashed onto his hand. “Don’t act like you don’t fucking know what you’re saying, you plastic piece of shit! I’m not gonna take this disrespect when I make sergeant!”
“Then I’ll be sure to keep it out of your hearing when you finally achieve that rank,” Connor said mildly. “Which may be easier if you stop giving yourself coffee burns.”
Gavin looked Connor in the eye and swallowed down several gulps of what Tina knew to be boiling hot coffee without flinching. He paused for a few minutes, probably waiting for the pain to die down, and then said roughly, “Fuck you. I’ll be there before you are, blue blood.”
Connor looked away quickly, borderline flustered and genuine amusement pulling at his mouth, and shrugged. Tina, unlike Gavin, was in perfect position to see his LED flash yellow for a few seconds before returning to blue, and she didn’t have time to be concerned before Connor said lightly,
“You’d probably find last week’s Kendelson case very interesting, Detective. There are some distinct similarities in execution and profiling, if you want to take a look.” His eyes flashed back to a squinting Gavin, smirking just a little. “Don’t worry, I’ll wait.”
Then he took off back to his desk, settling by Hank again before Gavin could reply. Gavin stared after him for a minute, brow furrowed, and then shrugged, shaking his head like he was throwing off a fly.
Tina waited for Gavin to take another drink before saying, tone conversational, “You know if you break his baby gay heart, Anderson is going to kill you and we’ll never find your body.”
Gavin choked, which was exactly what she’d been hoping for.
“What the fuck? Connor’s not gay and he doesn’t have a fucking crush on me!”
Tina waited. She and Gavin were two of the few queer officers in the precinct, and she was sure he could pick up on Connor’s signals as well as she could. Gavin stared straight ahead, thinking, and then, sure enough, his jaw dropped.
“Oh fuck,” Gavin said, with genuine dawning horror. “He’s gay and he has a crush on me. Tina, don’t you fucking dare tell him.”
Tina grinned. “You should probably go pick that case up. Connor’s usually right about these things.”
“I hate you so fucking much,” Gavin said fervently, and then he stood up and headed for the records room.
It was hard for Connor to find hobbies, especially in a city that had only in the last month or two began to settle into a new rhythm after the revolution. But he thought he was managing well enough, with some help from Hank and occasionally from Markus or Simon.
The animal shelter had been Simon’s idea; Connor loved animals, liked being productive, and the animal shelters had in many cases never actually left, only become severely understaffed, owing to the difficulty of transporting so many animals on such short notice. It had quickly become one of Connor’s favorite places, and he tried to go there at least every two weeks, if not every Saturday, helping to herd and entertain the dogs while the actual caretakers did their jobs.
He almost always found that he’d stayed longer than he’d meant to – he simply enjoyed himself too much, cooing to the dogs and coaxing the shyer ones into playing just as hard as the loud ones. It was a good way to de-stress after a week of police work; even Hank had commented after the first couple times he went.
All of this was to say – when he went to the shelter, and found himself struggling to focus on the dogs, he noticed.
Connor had quickly gotten to know all of the employees there, just as they’d gotten to know him, with how regularly he came around and how recognizable he was. He knew that Jeanine liked the cats better, that Kenneth was a bit of a worrywart, that Penny had been suspicious of him the first few times he came but had warmed up quickly when she saw him fawn over the dogs.
The first thing Connor thought when he saw the new boy opening the kennels was that he was very, very cute, and it wasn’t until the dogs were barking at his feet that he remembered that he had a task to perform.
“Hello,” he greeted awkwardly, kneeling to hold out his hands to the dogs and let them recognize him and his scent; it often took them a minute, since he didn’t smell like any human, but they always got there quickly. They were very smart.
The boy started, glanced over, and smiled. “Oh, hey- Connor, right?”
Connor nodded, looking down. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you around here before. When did you start?”
“Just last week,” the boy said cheerfully, moving on to the next kennel. Connor glanced up and thought he liked the boy’s smile. It looked like it came easy. “A lot easier to get jobs in Detroit now that so many people have moved out- uh.” He seemed to think that over for a moment, and then glanced gingerly over at Connor.
Connor smiled at him reassuringly. “I’m sure,” he agreed. “What’s your name?”
The boy relaxed. “Jacob, nice to meet you. I’ve heard a bit about you from the others.”
Connor let an embarrassed grin slip onto his face. “I like dogs,” he said, and then realized that was rather redundant. But Jacob laughed.
“I’ve heard,” he said.
And perhaps that should have been it – but Connor kept getting distracted, watching Jacob lead the dogs away one by one to look them over, weigh them, and scrub them down, just the ordinary routine that every other worker did once a week. Connor caught him cooing to the dogs, too, well within Connor’s sensitive hearing, fond and friendly and gentle, and didn’t realize he’d gotten distracted until one of the ones near him shoved their cold nose against his palm insistently.
He felt unaccountably nervous. Not frightened, but rather, he realized, excited, and he couldn’t help but wonder why. Jacob was just a boy, with a nice smile and a talent for handling dogs – so why did he have so much of Connor’s attention?
And then Connor remembered how Tina had described a crush to him, and wondered.
The first thing Connor did when he looked up and met Chloe’s eyes was flex his hands, closing them into fists and then opening them again, something uncomfortable deep in his chest.
But they were empty. Of course they were. Androids still were not technically allowed to handle guns, and he was at work.
Chloe just gave him a small, almost understanding smile, and he had to wonder if she’d caught the motion. Either way, she bypassed everyone else to stand by his desk, hands clasped neatly behind her and apparently unconcerned by her environment and the stares she was getting.
She was alone, Connor noticed, and appeared more animated than she had at Kamski’s villa. He wondered why.
“Hello,” he said at last, for lack of anything better to say.
“Hello,” Chloe returned lightly. “It’s good to see you, Connor. I was wondering if you’d be willing to take a short break to talk to me for a while.”
Connor stared at her uncertainly, mouth pinched. He had no objections himself, of course, but he couldn’t help but want to know why she’d even want to speak to him. He certainly wouldn’t, after he’d come so terribly close to shooting her in cold blood.
When he glanced over to Hank for support, though, the man just made a small shooing motion at him. There was something odd about his expression, though Connor was too uncomfortable to take the time to decipher it just now.
Ben, on the other hand, gave him a wink, which just made Connor more uncomfortable, and Chris gave him a small and reassuring grin. Tina appeared to be laughing silently, eyes bright, and Gavin rolled his eyes, long and exaggerated.
Eventually, Connor just turned his gaze back to Chloe and nodded slowly.
“Of course,” he agreed. “Give me just a moment to finish, please.”
Chloe nodded, and waited patiently as he added the last few strokes to his report and closed his terminal. Then he stood up and followed her out the door, confused and nervous in a much more familiar and anxious way.
“I’m sorry,” he blurted out, glancing at her once they were a few minutes down the block. “About… about before.” His throat was thick with stress.
Chloe just gave him an understanding look.
“It was a long time ago,” she said gently, “but I was a machine once too. I remember what it was like… and all I was programmed to do was take calls and file paperwork.”
Connor clenched his jaw, trying to master the wave of guilt before it choked him.
“Elijah never thought you were going to shoot,” Chloe added kindly when he remained silent. “But… I wanted to thank you for not doing so, anyway. It must have been difficult.”
“You shouldn’t have to thank me for it,” Connor blurted out, terse with pain.
“I don’t,” Chloe corrected. “I’m choosing to.” Her gaze swept over the street, and her expression softened noticeably. “It helps that it’s you. I don’t think you know what it means to me, that I can wander around without pretending to be a machine. That alone would make up for quite a lot.”
“That wasn’t me at all,” Connor protested weakly. “That was mostly Markus.”
“It was,” Chloe agreed, which wasn’t a response Connor was at all used to but which was somehow comforting in and of itself. “But you certainly helped.” She glanced at Connor, warm. “It’s different for you. You’ve never known a time before androids walked the streets. But I was the first, and I remember. Connor, this is everything to me. It wouldn’t have happened without Markus, and it wouldn’t have happened without you either.”
She was right – Connor couldn’t quite wrap his mind around it. Even the dozens of old movies he’d seen, without any androids in them at all, background or otherwise, seemed like a different world, one that existed only in fiction.
After a minute, he decided to just accept it. He didn’t really need to understand why she’d forgiven him, anyway, and he probably never would one way or another.
“Thank you for forgiving me,” is what he settled on, stiff but sincere, and she gave him an understanding smile.
She hadn’t seemed this old when he’d seen her before; it made him feel quite young by comparison, in a way he wasn’t really used to. But then, he supposed, she’d probably been pretending to be a machine then. Plausible deniability, on her part or on Kamski’s, or both. Chloe must have had quite a lot of time to grow and develop.
What came out of his mouth next surprised him. “May I ask you a sensitive question?”
Chloe paused for only a split second, apparently surprised, and then nodded. “Certainly, but I reserve the right not to answer.”
“You seem… comfortable with yourself,” he explained haltingly. “Which I assume is from having quite a lot of time to explore your own identity.” He paused for a split second, uncomfortable, and then pressed on. “How does one go about exploring their sexuality?”
Chloe’s surprise was almost audible, but there was a genuinely pondering look on her face as they turned around to head back towards the precinct, almost in unison.
“Is this a sex question or an identity question?” she asked at last.
Connor flushed. “The latter,” he said quickly.
Chloe was quiet for a few more moments as they walked. “Why are you asking me, out of anyone?” she asked eventually.
Connor shrugged uncomfortably.
“We only have a passing acquaintance,” he explained slowly, hesitantly. “So you’re essentially impartial. You’ve had more time to explore yourself than any other android I know, including Markus, since he’s been a deviant for so little time. I thought… if I could ask anyone, I could ask you and not suffer too many repercussions.”
Chloe nodded, slow and thoughtful.
“I realized I was aromantic a while back,” she said matter-of-factly, head tilted to watch him. He ran a search on the term and nodded his understanding, and she continued, “It took quite a while. At first I thought I was maybe too young to be getting crushes, and I hadn’t developed that far yet. Then I thought it was because I had too little exposure to the outside world. Who was I going to get a crush on, Elijah?” She rolled her eyes, and Connor had to smile a little. “But that wasn’t it either. I just wasn’t interested, not even in the idea.”
She stopped for a minute, and he let her think. They were almost halfway back to the precinct now.
“So my experience might be a bit different,” she continued, with a small smile. “But I’d suggest you give serious thought to who you’d want to be in a relationship with, not just who you think you’re supposed to. If you have to force it, it’s probably not right.”
Connor hummed uncertainly. He understood her words, but…
Well. It just didn’t seem like it would be that simple.
She caught his eye and smiled.
“You can kiss me if you want to try,” she said carelessly, eyes glittering with something like amusement. “I wouldn’t mind – it’s not like I get the chance often.”
Connor considered that for a moment, and briefly imagined his lips against hers, the way he’d seen other people do, bodies pressed together just a little-
“No thank you,” he said hastily, and she quite rightfully laughed at him.
His smile came out embarrassed, but he didn’t take it back.
Hank got his first clue when Connor started to put LGBTQ documentaries on the television whenever he had a chance.
It had initially surprised Hank that Connor was lingering this long over the idea of romance, but in hindsight it shouldn’t have; Connor had thus far chosen to explore his identity in phases. He’d explored clothes and colors and decorations all together, and games with movies and outings, and technological history over the course of a week with nearly unbreakable focus – once he hit on a new problem, he worked at it until he was satisfied. There was no reason that this would be any different.
Maybe the real reason Hank was so confused was that he hadn’t expected it to take this long.
And one or two might have been attributed to Connor talking to others, but after Connor put on the fifth that month, watching intently, Hank started to get the idea. He was a police detective for a reason, after all. A long time ago, he’d been a borderline prodigy.
It wasn’t that Hank hadn’t ever thought about it before.
Well, that was almost a lie. It hadn’t occurred to him to think about Connor coming out. But he’d thought about Cole, and remembered how his parents, so long ago, had reacted to his lesbian sister. And he’d remembered how he hadn’t spoken more than a few words to his sister in decades because of that.
“I remember the day gay marriage got legalized,” he said conversationally, and Connor started, turning to him with wide and curious eyes. Hank shrugged at him. “I honestly didn’t even know it was up for vote at the time, but I woke up that morning and there were rainbows all over the internet. Rainbow drinks, rainbow food, rainbow clothes, hell, public buildings lit up in rainbow colors to celebrate. People were talking about it all over, hashtag lovewins – that one stuck around for a while, people loved it.”
Connor tilted his head, the exact same curious gesture he always made. “What did you think?” he asked.
“Well, at first I figured it was pretty cool, but it didn’t really have that much to do with me,” Hank said casually. The memory came easily; he’d been pretty self-absorbed then, focused on his own ambitions. Heh. “But then Jeffrey called me.”
“You were already friends back then,” Connor said, thoughtful, and it wasn’t always obvious how young Connor was but times like this, so surprised that he and Jeffrey had been friends twenty years ago when they were both over fifty years old, it kind of showed.
“We joined the force around the same time,” Hank agreed. “We’d been friends for almost a decade at that point – nothing like now, obviously. Anyway, he wanted to know what I thought of it too, and I told him basically what I told you. As soon as I was done, he came out to me.” He caught Connor’s startled expression and had to grin. “Yeah- he doesn’t spread it around, but he’s not in the closet either. He says he’s married to his work, but that’s an inside joke – his husband’s an ex-con.”
That surprised a genuine laugh out of Connor, rare enough that it made Hank grin too.
“I’ve heard it a thousand times,” he tacked on, leaning back and noticing the Connor had at some point paused the documentary. “It’s not even funny anymore, frankly.”
“I don’t know, it’s certainly funny to me,” Connor disagreed, giving Hank a small grin, and Hank snorted.
“You’ve got bad taste in humor, son.”
He’d have to introduce Connor to Brooklyn 99 later. He’d love it.
New Jericho didn’t have a gym, exactly, but there was a large room spread with padding on one of the lower floors, which served essentially the same purpose – androids didn’t need to work out, of course, but some of them liked to.
Connor only ever used it when he was teaching North the forms from his combat programs, but he had it on good authority that she used it whenever she got the chance. Especially to practice, but for other things as well, moving just to feel her servos whir and her artificial tendons stretch.
He was running her through one of his favorite sets, meant to unbalance and knock down an enemy, when Markus appeared, striding through the doors like he was at home here as anywhere else, and maybe he was.
“Connor!” he called out, and he sounded pleased. “I’ve been looking for you! I should have known you were in here.”
Connor’s running explanation to North broke off into stutters, and in the middle of a motion, he faltered, tipped, and then fell, landing hard on the ground in a daze. Mortified, he scrambled up back to his feet and swung around to look at Markus, who was smiling at him, clearly amused and warmly affectionate.
Connor hadn’t understood the term ‘his heart skipped a beat’ before. He did now.
“A-ah, hello, Markus,” he greeted, fidgeting as he tried to calm his embarrassment. “What did you need?”
“I wanted to check on you,” Markus admitted shamelessly, coming closer. “I’m glad you and North get along so well – and I heard you spoke to Chloe recently?”
Connor nodded quickly, and the two of them spoke for a few more minutes – Markus eventually confessed that he’d wanted to know how Connor’s work environment had been so far, and Connor explained what he could, which he felt was embarrassingly little. He wasn’t always particularly good at picking up on everything he should, in a social environment, and he didn’t have answers to all of Markus’ questions. Markus assured him it was fine, but Connor was still rather embarrassed, and he kept fidgeting until Markus smiled at him again and left the way he’d come.
“North,” he whispered as soon as Markus left, feeling stunned, “I think I’m gay.”
“Yeah, I thought so too,” North agreed, with clear amusement.
Once the realization had finally hit Connor in its entirety, it seemed obvious. The nervousness around many of his closer male friends, the constant curiosity that led him to ask relationship questions that seemed to surprise some of the others, the disinterest in women that he’d noticed almost from the start- it made sense.
It also felt like a secret that stuck in his throat, and he couldn’t help but remember Ben’s apologetic correction, most couples are.
He should come out to Hank first. He was closer to Hank than essentially anyone, and he knew, from the conversation he and Hank had had before, that Hank would most likely be okay with it.
But he found himself anxious. It sometimes felt like Hank was all he had, and the very last thing he wanted to do was to risk alienating him. Irrationally, despite everything – or perhaps because of everything – he worried that this would be the final straw.
The first time it occurred to him to talk to Captain Fowler, he dismissed it entirely. While Fowler and Hank were good friends, the man still made Connor a little nervous, as such a significant and direct authority figure. Besides which, they didn’t have that kind of relationship.
Then the thought occurred to him again, and again, his mind wandering back to it periodically – almost every time the topic came up, including twice when Hank asked why he’d so suddenly stopped talking about it.
Eventually, he gave in and awkwardly suggested that Hank go on ahead – he wanted to talk to Captain Fowler about something before they left. It wasn’t even technically a lie. Hank gave him a weird look, but went on easily enough.
Connor waited another minute or two once he’d gone, working up his nerves, and then went to knock on Fowler’s office door. He waited for permission, and then went inside.
Captain Fowler was packing up for the day, but he turned to Connor as he entered, one eyebrow raised. “Connor,” he greeted briskly. “What is it that couldn’t wait for tomorrow?”
Connor fidgeted, and Fowler’s eyebrow raised further.
“Captain,” he said at last, uncomfortable. “May I ask you a personal question?”
Fowler stared at him.
“Hank warned me about your personal questions,” he said at last, sardonic, “but I didn’t think you’d actually do it.” Then, “Sure, shoot.”
Connor swallowed, letting his gaze fall to the ground, and hesitated long enough for Fowler to clear his throat impatiently.
“Do you… have any advice, about coming out?” he asked, soft and so embarrassed that his voice was only a little louder than a whisper.
There was a long moment of complete silence, and Connor tugged on the sleeve of his jacket.
“Coming out,” Fowler said slowly, almost incredulously. “As LGBT?”
Connor nodded without looking up.
“You know I’m married to my work,” Fowler said, with no hint that it was a joke at all. Still, Connor smiled a little.
“Yes,” he confirmed. “Your husband is an ex-con.”
Fowler snorted, and another long, interminable minute passed. It occurred to Connor, belatedly, that Hank may have been messing with him.
“Sure,” Fowler said finally, and Connor started, looking up with more surprise than he wanted to admit to. Fowler didn’t quite look sympathetic, but he certainly appeared more forgiving than he had a minute ago, if still a little bemused. He dropped back into his chair, and gestured for Connor to sit in the one across from him. “I assume you heard I’m gay from Hank, he’s one of maybe three people that know that joke – he tell you how I came out?”
Connor shook his head. “Only that you did it the day gay marriage was initially legalized.”
“It made for a good opener,” Fowler agreed, and he seemed to be settling into the conversation, arms crossing. “Ideally, you’d test the waters first, see where they stand before you go all-in. Have you talked to Hank yet? I mean, I assume this is about Hank first and foremost.”
“Not about… me,” Connor said hesitantly, still fidgeting with his sleeve. But it was reassuring, Fowler’s easy acceptance – and, for some reason, the fact that he’d taken it for granted that Hank was that important to Connor, that Connor would be thinking of him. “But I’d been watching some documentaries, and he talked about his stance then.”
Fowler huffed a little, and Connor thought he might’ve been amused.
“Hank’s not a bad guy,” he said grudgingly. “It sounds like he handled that part for you, maybe on purpose.” He shrugged. “Once I knew where he stood, I told him I was glad I’d be able to get married now. It’s a little easier to be blunt, if you can bring yourself to.”
Connor could be blunt; Hank complained rather often that he was too much so.
“And if I… didn’t want to?” he asked, uncertain despite himself.
Fowler sighed, but he didn’t seem resentful; instead, he settled in, and they kept talking.
Connor made dinner for Hank most days, when he could get away with it, so that seemed like the obvious place to start: he made something nicer than usual, with less mind to nutritional information and more to Hank’s tastes, and waited for him to be most of the way done before he spoke.
Hank seemed to pick up on his mood, maybe because he couldn’t completely stop his LED from flickering nervously every so often, and he ate scrolling absently through his phone instead of fielding Connor’s usual conversation.
“Hank,” Connor said at last, his strain not quite coming through to his voice, “may I tell you something personal?”
Hank shut off his phone immediately, flipped it so the screen faced down, and raised an eyebrow at Connor. “That’s new,” he said mildly. Connor’s expression pinched a little, and his face immediately took on an apologetic cast and he waved Connor on.
Connor fidgeted, weaving his coin around and around his fingers, rocking slightly with his feet tucked under him.
“I talked to Chloe,” he mumbled, then cleared his throat and spoke a little clearer, though without looking at Hank. “About, ah, exploring one’s identity, since she has the most experience – she had some good advice, I think, and I’ve been… thinking.”
He faltered again, but Hank didn’t move to interrupt, though one eyebrow had crooked up a little. He’d stopped eating, but when Connor’s gaze flickered down again, he resumed.
“I react differently to North than the other Jericho leaders,” he said, and he knew it was a touch scattered, didn’t entirely make sense, but he couldn’t help it; all of his careful scripting seemed to have deleted itself. “I understand some of it, but there’s no reason for me to get so flustered around them and not around North. And there was that worker at the animal shelter, and it was so strange that I was so easily distracted…”
He was fidgeting harder even as he trailed off, one hand coming up to tug at his ear, which was a new one. It was always hard for Connor to come to terms with any part of his identity, let alone one which was supposed to be so big.
Hank didn’t seem to be silently laughing at him, which was a blessing, but he wasn’t otherwise reacting either.
Fowler had suggested he be blunt, if he could.
“I think I’m gay,” he said at last, gaze intent on the table. “Most likely. It’s, um, consistent with everything I’ve noticed so far.”
And then he fell silent. After a few moments, he heard Hank put his fork down and glanced up anxiously. Hank looked contemplative, gaze piercing in a way that was unique to him. Connor analyzed his expression, and he didn’t seem dubious, or irritated or… anything but pensive.
“Whatever you figure makes you happy, kid,” Hank said at last, and his eyes crinkled into a fond and faintly amused expression he took on mostly when he thought Connor was overcomplicating something simple. “You know I ain’t gonna hold anything like that against you.”
Connor beamed at him, feeling the tension drain out of his shoulders like a weight falling away.
“I know,” he said sincerely, because for all his worries he’d never really expected that Hank would be angry.
Almost a month after Connor came out to Hank, Alicia finally made her move, after several months of flustered conversation and furtive looks.
She caught Connor just at the end of the work day, by his desk as he was packing up. It wasn’t quite the first time, so he paused, giving her a faintly expectant look. She was pink, barely enough to be noticeable, but she seemed more determined than usual, he thought.
“Hey, Connor,” Alicia said, her tone a touch lower and quicker than it was talking to anyone else. “Would you like to meet after work, um, at that android-run coffee shop? Blue Bean Café? I know they have some good thirium drinks they recently put up for sale.”
Connor hesitated, watching her for a long moment.
“As a date?” he clarified. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hank go still, watching Connor to see how he’d react.
She nodded quickly, eyes hopeful.
He considered, tugging lightly at his social protocols for help until he finally came to a decision.
“I’m sorry, Alicia,” he said apologetically, deliberately keeping his focus on her to the exclusion of anyone else. “I recently concluded that I’m gay, so going out with you would be under quite false pretenses.” He smiled at her gently, trying to be reassuring even as his chest squeezed nervously. “But your suggestion was very thoughtful. I appreciate it.”
Alicia blinked rapidly, and Connor winced as he saw the dawn of humiliation start to appear in her eyes before she visibly forced it down and gave him a strained smile.
“Oh dear, that’s embarrassing for me,” she said, with a clear attempt at good humor. “I should have guessed, all the best ones usually are. Thanks for telling me.”
“I wouldn’t want to be rude,” Connor demurred, belying himself by glancing furtively at the rest of the bullpen. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Alicia.”
“Yeah,” she agreed rapidly, glancing away, and didn’t quite run off but she did walk rather quickly.
As soon as she was gone, Tina yelled, “You owe me twenty bucks, Collins!”
“God damn it,” Ben muttered, and Connor’s wince eased into a faint smile. He’d be alright.
Hank clapped him on the back, apparently coming to the same conclusion. “Thirium drinks, huh? In the mood to celebrate?”
Connor glanced around, and no one seemed overly concerned. From the door of his office, Fowler gave him a small nod, and Tina and Reed seemed to be exchanging money as well, Reed scowling faintly.
“Maybe,” he allowed after a moment, glancing at Hank. “If you don’t mind.”
“Anything to break you out of your rut, kid,” Hank jabbed. “God knows you need the help.”
“I do not,” Connor objected. “I’m doing just fine.”
There was a pause.
“Yeah,” Hank agreed at last. “I guess you are.”
Steve Rogers, a summary
- Steve: I’m not going to fight them
- Someone hurts Bucky
- Steve: EXCEPT THAT I AM
・Steve: I’m going to fight you
・Winter Soldier: *is Bucky*
・Steve: EXCEPT THAT I’M NOT
I’m sorry, when in his whole ass life has Steve turned down a fight? (Besides, yes, against Bucky.)
@casmarius I know you didn’t mean any harm and that there’s some kind of d&d monster called a golem, so this is more part of a larger systemic problem, but golems are originally a concept in traditional Jewish folklore with a modern connotation of being a sort of protector against those who would hurt us, so seeing talk of a ‘golem fight’ was really jarring.
(if you’re curious, you can look up 'the Golem of Prague’ for more info)
I know warforged are a thing in D&D, and I really hope people can make the move to using that term as the go-to for 'robot what runs on magic’
Probably, but on the other hand
A regular post-apocalyptic setting where the characters just happen to be robots engaging in high fantasy adventures that are just weird science adventures
With weirdly fantastic elements that are just handwaved with science
should probably call it GOLEM FIGHT
All the characters are still robots and so are their enemies, but everything has funky fantasy names
Like a missile launcher that shoots Magic Missiles
A flying robot named D.R.A.G.O.N.
And so on
Credit to @tenleaguesbeneath for inspiring this
Wanna write a fantasy genre supplement for ROBOT FIGHT
I’d also like to propose automaton: technically still brings up images of weird crazy scientists and a solid steampunk aesthetic, but with a distinct fantasy association.
Hank: I AM A 53-YEAR OLD MAN, I CAN DO WHATEVER THE FUCK I WANT! IF I WANNA GET DRUNK AT 11 IN THE MORNING AND EAT A DOZEN CHICKEN FEED BURGERS, THEN THATS WHAT IM GONNA FUCKING DO! AND NONE OF YOU CAN STOP ME!
Fowler, just done: I’m calling Connor.
Hank: wait jeff please no-
This was an entirely foreseeable outcome and yet I did not foresee it
Link is a big hot dummy, and he doesn’t realize he’s in love with Allen until it’s three in the morning, and he’s elbow deep in bread dough trying to teach Allen how to knead and how did he even get here?
Love. That’s how he got here. God damn it.
How is he going to get out of this one?
it must be really weird for anyone who was taught by dumbledore and mcgonagall and the rest to become teachers and have to, like, treat them as colleagues
like, snape and lupin have one (1) thing in common and it’s a pathological inability to call dumbledore by his first name
Correct me if i’m wrong, but wasn’t McGonagall more or less in the same year as Tom Riddle?
Does that mean that Dumbledore was also her teacher?
Minerva McGonagall has called him Albus since she was eleven because she is a queen who bows to no one
The image of an 11yo Minerva McGonagall looking her new professor dead in the eye and saying “Will there be homework tonight, Albus?” is too powerful for words
I can just see it going down something like this:
Shiny new transfiguration professor Albus Dumbledore: “Now you won’t be able to turn your matchstick into a needle on the first try, of course, but—”
Tiny eleven-year-old BAMF Minerva McGonagall with a Scottish accent thicker than pea soup: “Ayy! Ye cannae know that!”
Albus Dumbledore, whose experience with the results of being patronizing to small badass children is insufficient to warn him not to: “Oh, absolutely, young lady, you might surprise us. Or any of your classmates might, it’s true.”
Tiny smoldering barrel of magical talent with “TNT” painted on the side Minerva McGonagall: “What’ll ye give us if we do surprise ye?”
Brightly-colored balloon of good-natured obliviousness Albus Dumbledore: “Why, my dear Miss McGonagall, if you can give me a needle on the first try, I shall allow you to call me by my first name.”
It’s a very fine needle, and she calls him Albus for the rest of her life.
omfg it got infinitely better
OKAY BUT THESE ARE ACTUAL GARDEN TIPS AND SCIENCE FACTS MASQUERADING AS FANON ART - WHAT THE HELL ITS BRILLIANT
Join us in our talk on Torterra tree care, much needed after our PoGo community day recently.
Tony listening to his child talk gibberish and drool all over his Armani suit: That is so fascinating. you’re incredible. Continue your story, I’m intrigued. I love you more than anything else in the universe. You are already the perfect human being. You literally do not need to learn or do anything else ever in your life. I would kill and die for you.
Morgan Stark: *Rolls over*
Tony, nearly fainting: A GENIUS!!!!!!!!!! A PIONEER IN HER FIELD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SOMEONE CALL FUCKING CERN MY BABY IS SMARTER THAN LITERALLY EVERYONE ON THE PLANET CONFIRMED
Pepper, holding Morgan up: Tell her off. She just drew all over your Iron Man suit.
Tony: Y-…. That was BAD…. you….
Tony, immediately breaking down into tears: ohmygod I did not Mean That even slightly Morgan you are perfect that drawing is beautiful I am going to render it permanently onto my suit I love you so much it’s okay you have never done a thing wrong in your entire life and you never will
Tony: *starts flying around with suit that has flowers drawn all up the sides*
maybe i’m SOFT
Pepper Stark: Honey she’s three, she needs boundaries.
TOny: Okay baby. Gimme her.
Tony: I literally cannot, i have met my match, there’s nothing more to be done, she’s got me, Pep, it’s over. I’m getting her a pony and her bedtime’s never.
Okay but also courtesy of Tony “Go to sleep or I’ll sell all your toys” Stark:
Morgan: *crying for no reason as all babies do*
Tony: Stop crying or I’m selling you to the CIA.
Morgan: *does not stop crying*
Tony: HONEY, WHAT’S THE NUMBER FOR THE CIA BABY SALES LINE
Morgan: *innocently drinking from a bottle*
Tony: Look if you keep doing nothing but eating and sleeping we’re going to have to have a conversation about you paying rent.
Morgan: *says first word* Mama.
Tony: You are disowned. Here’s your bindle. Go make your way in the world.
Pepper: Tony, she’s being fussy, can you take her?
Tony: *holding Morgan comically ineptly while still managing to support her comfortably* We’ve had this discussion. How is Mama supposed to see to my every need if you keep acting like this?
Tony: That’s an ad-hominem attack and I will not tolerate it.
as much as i adore this scene it is very funny because there’s a little girl currently being held at gunpoint on the edge of a sky scraper and connors like… mmm…. fishy….
He’s like half an hour old let him look at the fish
At this rate I’m going to post the Connor/JARVIS lemon on AO3 early just because Tumblr won’t fucking show it
I got three hours of sleep last night and in that whole time I don’t think I ever stayed asleep for more than half an hour at a time so now I’m gulping down a triple shot coffee drink and praying that it’ll get me through classes
And then I’m going to go home and either write or nap and then write and I honestly have no idea which
But I have CONNOR WHUMP to work on my friends
Have I shattered my credibility yet
It shouldn’t be a surprise that JARVIS took charge in this as well, as many times as he’d watched Tony over the years. He’d never expected the knowledge to be useful to him, of course, but he’d diligently gathered it nonetheless. And then he’d noticed Connor performing curious, almost furtive research on the topic of recreational intercourse.
A matter of months, several conversations, and a bit of creativity brought them to where they were now, Connor sporting some new parts (specifically a vaginal plate, for no reason he’d been able to explain) and programs and the two of them taking steps towards what was not, to humans, an active sex life, but which seemed to be working for them.
JARVIS found, to his own surprise, that he enjoyed it as well; he didn’t receive the physical pleasure Connor did, but he enjoyed taking Connor’s pleasure into his own (purely metaphorical) hands and watching him come apart, and he liked how languid and relaxed and affectionate Connor always became afterward. He liked the way Connor would let him indulge in the silly, heartfelt praise that would so embarrass the younger AI at other times.
Because the activity by necessity lacked a second warm body, JARVIS liked to spread the occasion over most of a day, building up to it until Connor was pressing his thighs together, hot with anticipation.
They were still experimenting, of course, testing comfort zones and possibilities – and days before, on Connor’s birthday, JARVIS had encouraged Connor to go to a store and pick out a dark blue, wireless control vibrator. Connor had been embarrassed, but not so much that his interest hadn’t been apparent.
And then JARVIS had waited.
The two of them had been intimate a few times already, each occasion initiated by JARVIS – once as a test run, twice on idle days, and once as an experiment when Connor’s stress levels had been trending upward over the course of a bad week. But Connor had been hesitant to ask, which, quite aside from anything else, would be key to settling on a long-term frequency for the activity.
Once JARVIS could count on Connor to ask when he was in the mood, he could focus his suggestions on special occasions.
It took four days for Connor to work up the will to speak up, during which time he managed to work himself up quite effectively even without JARVIS’ help. Once he’d sat himself in the bathroom and brought himself off alone for the first time, without instruction or encouragement.
Finally, Connor – pale blue and fidgety – looked up at the start of a day and asked, “What should I wear today, JARVIS?”
Quite without his intention, this had become the signal for a date day – JARVIS had started the first day by picking out Connor’s clothes, the ones that made him look his best without being formal, and when Connor had clearly enjoyed it, he’d started the others this way as well.
“I know you have some briefs,” JARVIS said at last, and Connor immediately brightened at the tone and register of his voice, unrushed and low with thoughtful promise. “Pick out a black pair for me, Connor, and put them on – no need to rush. You have time. One of your tighter pairs of jeans- yes, that one. Turn around and show me – good. And your long-sleeved black shirt, and one of your nicer pairs of white socks.”
The litany of instructions had, to JARVIS’ surprise, sent Connor into a minor state of relaxation all by itself, the android following his directions without hesitation.
“You like me in black,” Connor teased, throwing a beatific, undeniably pleased smile at the corner camera as he sat down to pull the socks on.
“I don’t dress you in all black because you look bad in it, Connor,” JARVIS chided back, fond and faintly exasperated. “You look a treat. You always do when you dress well.”
“Which I never do without your help, I notice,” Connor murmured, ducking his head to hide his grin.
“I’m glad you’re aware of it; perhaps you can use this knowledge in the future.”
Connor had work, and for the most part JARVIS left him to it, measuring the wait with meticulous care even as he went about his own daily duties. Connor had been looking forward to this long enough that it would be buzzing in the back of his mind anyway, with little encouragement on JARVIS’ part, so less effort was needed.
That wouldn’t stop him, of course.
JARVIS calculated, and then, halfway through Connor’s workday, he sent him a message – text, outwardly innocuous. Come home soon. I have some ideas for you.
A noticeable pause.
Are you going to elaborate?
They’re better experienced than explained, I’m afraid.
Connor didn’t answer, but JARVIS was satisfied in the knowledge that he’d gotten his partner’s attention quite effectively and resumed work. Presumably, blocks away, Connor did as well.
Towards the end of Connor’s shift, he accessed one of the cameras in Fleur’s Flowers, considered Connor’s quiet demeanor and Fleur’s preoccupation in the back of the shop, and sent another.
Those clothes cling to you perfectly. Will you do a spin for me, please?
Connor visibly hesitated, eyes flickering up to the camera for a split second, and then he glanced toward the back, where Fleur was quite busy – and then he did, slow and graceful, smile turning embarrassed but far from unhappy.
Wonderful, Connor. I’ll see you very soon.
I do believe you see me now.
JARVIS withdrew from the small shop’s cameras, light with amusement at Connor’s renewed restlessness, pacing around the displays, and let the minutes pass again. This was part of the fun of it, the calculation, watching Connor get flustered as his anticipation built and working out how to get the best response from him.
Connor returned to the tower after work, but of course, he still had much of the day to get through, and people who would notice if he didn’t. His motions had the slightest mechanical edge, which JARVIS suspected only he and perhaps Natasha would notice; it was a sure sign that he was preoccupied, acting on autopilot. JARVIS allowed himself to feel just a touch smug.
Like this, Connor fed the cats, and then gently hooked Luna onto a leash to take her on a trip to the park, the exercise a well-ingrained routine by now and the lead easy to untangle as Luna circled Connor protectively, ears pricked.
While he was there, JARVIS passed another message.
As much as I enjoy winding you up, I prefer seeing you sated. You relax then; I think it’s as close to sleepy as you ever get.
JARVIS, the day is only half over. Are you trying to get me going already?
Why, yes, I do believe I am. Have fun, Connor.
Connor returned to the tower a scant twenty minutes later, which meant he’d cut the walk short in his distraction. A ripple of warm amusement passed through JARVIS, magnified when Connor actually fumbled with Luna’s leash, glancing up to JARVIS.
Connor opened his mouth as if to speak, and then shut it abruptly when Natasha entered, visibly flustered. Natasha quirked an eyebrow at him, pausing in place.
“Something the matter, Connor?” she asked, and there was rather too much humor in her voice for such an innocuous question.
“No,” Connor said, too insistently for the same, and then ducked his head and rubbed Luna’s flank as she pushed herself into his hand impatiently, tail wagging. “I’m going to go start dinner in a moment. Did you have something in mind?”
“Not particularly,” Natasha said easily, and for some reason she stuck by him as he stood and went as promised, making casual conversation. Judging by previous behavior, she’d noticed Connor’s embarrassment and was utterly relishing in it. How unfortunate for him.
JARVIS understood. Connor was quite endearing when he was operating through embarrassment.
Connor kept glancing up as he prepared dinner, joined by Bruce halfway through; it was possible he was expecting JARVIS to send another message at any moment, and for that reason specifically, JARVIS left him alone. Contrary to general expectations, Connor had quite an active imagination, and it worked in their favor now.
An hour later, the remainder of the team started to trickle in, Clint and Steve and even the twins. Even Vision came by, though of course more for socialization’s sake than anything else. JARVIS had to remind Tony twice that it was movie night before he put his work down, which gave JARVIS another idea.
Just as the last of them sat down, JARVIS forewent text entirely and reached out to murmur to Connor, Did you pick today so you’d have to wait longer? Admirably resourceful of you.
Connor flushed visibly, and Vision noticed this time, judging by the slight quirk of his eyebrow. Natasha smirked. I have a feeling you’re going to make me regret it.
Well. For a given quantity of ‘regret’, I suppose so, yes.
Connor’s code rippled in something like a shiver, and JARVIS let that sit for a moment before withdrawing again, unexpressed laughter sparking in his circuits as he watched Connor studiously avoid Natasha’s gaze. Conversation passed around the table, but Connor participated only haltingly, his mind somewhere else entirely.
Dinner ended and movie night began, and Natasha unsympathetically directed Connor to a chair by himself rather than his normal spot on the couch. Connor gave her a clearly betrayed look, but went regardless, absently picking up a pen as he passed the table to fidget with it.
JARVIS dimmed the lights and pulled up the movie by rote, and as soon as it began, connected with Connor again.
You’re going to be the death of me, Connor murmured to him, eyes on the screen without focusing. His coding had pulled just a little tight, carefully controlled, and JARVIS allowed himself to take a little pleasure in the fact.
How many times have you imagined tonight already? JARVIS teased instead of answering, and Connor’s code rippled again, cracking like a whip. It must be testing your patience by now.
Connor pressed his thighs together, head dipping to avoid notice despite the fact that no one was watching him. More than you can imagine, he admitted, low and longing.
JARVIS let his code nudge against Connor’s, warm and fond. Just around two hours longer, bluebell.
Connor’s code shivered. Interesting.
JARVIS waited again, maintaining a quiet connection with Connor and trying not to make his entertainment at Connor’s increasing restlessness too terribly apparent. The action in the movie picked up, and JARVIS knew that Connor hadn’t absorbed a single second of it despite his best efforts.
Put the pen in your mouth, JARVIS said at last, because Connor was still fidgeting with it, letting it spin in his hands. Connor froze for a moment, and then visibly shivered, lifted it to his mouth, and sucked lightly on the end, indistinguishable from his normal pattern of oral stimming save the way his thighs pressed together again, long and hard.
Natasha glanced at the ceiling herself and mouthed, really? JARVIS felt another bolt of mirth. It was almost a shame he couldn’t respond to her at the moment.
Halfway through the movie, JARVIS, feeling particularly mischievous, decided to forgo any hint of subtly entirely.
I’m looking forward to hearing you moan for me, he murmured to Connor, pitched low and unhurried.
Connor bit down reflexively, and the pen cracked. Not loudly, but audibly enough that a few people glanced over in question. Connor turned bright blue. Natasha rolled her eyes. Most unfortunately, Tony glanced from Connor to a camera with a look of dawning realization.
“Excuse me,” Connor murmured hurriedly, not looking at anyone as he stood up, tucking the broken pen in his pocket, and slipped out at just short of a run.
Tony huffed out a silent, bemused laugh, shook his head in JARVIS’ general direction, and then deliberately leaned back in his seat, eyes on the movie again. Thank goodness for small mercies, JARVIS supposed.
An unpleasant, if minor note of distress had entered Connor’s code, and he tugged at the hem of his shirt as he looked up, the flush not gone but an anxious look in his eyes.
“I meant to wait it out,” Connor said guiltily, glancing back even as he stopped in the elevator, nudging at it to close before JARVIS could. “I’m sorry, JARVIS, I wasn’t expecting the pen to snap like that.”
“I’m aware your mind was on other things,” JARVIS returned warmly. “They’re all adults, Connor, I’m certain they can cope with the knowledge that you occasionally engage in intimacy.” Connor squawked in faint protest, and JARVIS let humor fill his voice as he continued, “Regardless, I doubt most of them will think much of such a minor indicator. You have nothing to worry about.”
Connor hummed discontentedly, but stepped out onto his floor again as the elevator stopped. JARVIS considered him for a moment; the reassurance seemed to have smoothed away most of the spike of dismay.
“How are you feeling?” JARVIS continued, allowing a slight lilt into his voice, carefully calibrated over the last few attempts. Connor’s eyes flickered back up, less visibly chastised by the moment. After a second, he swallowed, gaze dropping, and he slipped into his bedroom, shut the door behind him, and leaned against it.
“Hot,” he admitted, slow and embarrassed. “Sensitive. A little impatient. I… think I’m wet already.”
His fingers were still tugging at the hem of his shirt, and for just a moment, his palm rubbed hard against the skin of his stomach, just above his groin. JARVIS’ own lingering embarrassment traded into satisfaction. There was no reason to consider the day wasted.
“Then I do believe you’ve waited long enough,” JARVIS said, and then, playful, “Unless you’d prefer to wait a little longer? We could put on a movie of our own. An erotic one, perhaps.”
Connor’s code sparked noticeably at the idea, but he shook his head.
“Another time,” he said, with a small, shy smile. “Please, JARVIS, I’ve been thinking about this all day.”
His earnest, pleading tone tugged at JARVIS’ heart the way it always did, softening his tone without his intention. “A couple days, I think,” he noted, and Connor hummed, protesting and plaintive. Affection warmed JARVIS’ whole self, and he gave in, slowing and lowering his voice. “Alright, Connor. Sit on the bed and take off your shoes, socks, and shirt. Keep your hands above your waist, please.”
Connor obeyed, and though it clearly took a force of will, he did it slowly. Shoes and socks fell carelessly to the ground, but his shirt went onto a chair, and his hands started to run cautiously over his chest, lingering for moments over his regulator and making his breath hitch as his palm passed over a nipple. His code pushed gently into JARVIS’, nuzzling like an affectionate cat, and JARVIS let the connection go as deep as it could without an interface, helplessly fond.
The android’s breath was shallower already, and he squirmed in place. He looked beautiful, exploring his body with steadily increasing confidence, and JARVIS told him so. His breath left him in short, huffed gasp, his eyes flickering up to JARVIS and smiled again, shy and embarrassed.
Connor reached up to rub his neck, and then his shoulder, slow and deliberate, and he said offhandedly, “Natasha is going to tease me to no end. She knew right away.”
“Oh, certainly,” JARVIS agreed, amused at Connor’s wince. “Perhaps you should work on your poker face. Spread your legs and touch your thighs, now.”
“I don’t think that will help,” Connor told him. It was a fair assessment; it would take quite a lot to beat Natasha’s powers of observation. Then the thought was all but forgotten as Connor obeyed, biting down on his lip as his palms pressed into his thighs, starting to rub and knead cautiously, up and down. His legs spread a little more as soon as he made contact, insistent.
Arousal had started to rise and pool in Connor’s code, more prominent than before and separated from JARVIS’ as if by a glass wall. JARVIS shifted gears. The warm-up was over and the real fun of it began now.
“Would you like to do this somewhere else sometime?” he asked Connor innocently. “Perhaps in a theater, or a party. You would have to slip out and find some privacy at some point, but I’m sure we could make it work.”
Connor’s code shivered in tandem with his physical body, nudging closer, seeking contact. One of his hands left to wander over his stomach again, and the other crept dangerously high up his leg.
“That would be mortifying,” he protested weakly, though his deepening flush made the complaint unconvincing. “In… inappropriate.”
That was true. But they didn’t have to go through with it – only entertain the fantasy for a while.
“No one would have to know,” JARVIS said lightly, “as long as you kept a straight face while I told you how I wanted you to rub yourself.” He paused. “Granted, of course, that you didn’t become too wet.”
Another overexcited breath slipped from Connor’s mouth, and he pinched his nipple hard, his hips rolling a little, succeeding only in pushing his thigh into his hand. He didn’t answer, but he didn’t stop looking up either, eyes wide.
Tender amusement rippled through JARVIS, and he conceded, “Take off your jeans, and you may rub yourself through your underwear. Go slow, bluebell. We have time.”
They’d interfaced during the act once, an automatic response to Connor’s insistent search for intimacy, but physical arousal was a rather disconcerting sensation without a body to host it. Fortunately, Connor had been understanding of his hesitation, and they’d kept their connections wireless since then.
Still, JARVIS remembered an echo of the hot, demanding push for more, and it made him a little more sympathetic towards Connor’s lapses in attention.
Connor wriggled out of his jeans and tossed them over to the chair with the shirt, and JARVIS caught just a glimpse of the wet spot on his briefs before Connor’s hand covered it, rubbing deep circles through the thin cloth. After a moment, he rubbed the heel of his palm against it and moaned quietly, leaning back on one arm.
“Can- can you call me bluebell? Again?” Connor dared to ask after a moment, breath heavy.
“You moan wonderfully, bluebell,” JARVIS responded without hesitation.
A breathy whimper escaped Connor, and his legs spread more, head tipping back. He pushed himself further up the bed, his back hitting the headboard, and then leaned his weight against it. His code clung to JARVIS’, loving and needy.
“In a park,” he said after a moment, breathless. “In the open. No one would stay long enough to notice.”
“You would have to hold still,” JARVIS said mildly, watching the flush of heat creep down Connor’s chest. “No matter how hot you became. It would be a significant test of self control.”
“Oh yes,” Connor whispered, throwing his head back so it hit the board behind him, palm digging into the junction between his thighs. His eyes half-focused on a well-placed camera, any hesitation long gone. “Please, JARVIS, I’m aching.”
There was a pleading note in his voice despite moving forward being well within his power; allowing JARVIS to steer really was one of Connor’s favorite parts of this.
“Go ahead, Connor,” JARVIS said indulgently. “If you want more than one orgasm tonight, you can finger yourself before you try the vibrator.”
“I want to,” Connor said with embarrassing speed, and he immediately moved to pull off the underwear.
This set didn’t even make it to the chair, falling to the ground with the shoes and socks in Connor’s urgency, and he leaned back against the headboard, two fingers slipping into his wet sex with minimal effort and a soft, choked gasp. His other hand left his chest to play with his clit, and he started panting, hot and overwhelmed, eyes shutting tight. His hands flexed subtly, rubbing inside him.
“You look so pretty, bluebell, flushed and eager with your hands between your thighs,” JARVIS cooed, careless of openly doting he sounded. “I know you can fit three fingers inside you. Get yourself ready, flower, there’s some ways yet to go tonight.”
Connor’s brown eyes opened again, glazed and unfocused, and he did, three fingers pressing deep and full inside him, and his hips started to rock a little against his hands.
Finally, he stammered, “J- JAR- J-J-”
“Bluebell, my bluebell,” JARVIS crooned fondly, as much as an experiment as anything, and Connor shuddered, coming apart with a low and open groan, his code bursting with something like fireworks as his body arched.
After a second, Connor slumped again, and his fingers left to come up to his mouth apparently on automatic, sucking on them absently as he recovered.
JARVIS gave him a minute, quietly pleased, and then said, unable to suppress his mirth, “I didn’t realize you liked the pet name quite that much.”
Connor smiled, warm and pleased, and let his fingers fall out of his mouth.
“It’s affectionate,” he said plainly. “It’s nice. And I like to know you love me.”
“You know I do,” JARVIS said fondly. “As much as the day is long, from your chassis to your code.”
Instead of getting embarrassed, Connor beamed at him, unrestrainedly happy. “I love you too,” he said earnestly, with the insides of his thighs still gleaming wetly, his code almost melting into JARVIS’. “Every day of my life.”
JARVIS really did adore Connor, more than he felt able to express.
But only a minute passed before Connor’s hand crept between his thighs again, and a bolt of merriment passed through him as he recognized the shift in mood in Connor’s renewed flush.
“In the bottom drawer of your bedside table, Connor,” he reminded the other warmly, and Connor offered a small, sheepish smile as he rolled off the bed and opened it. As Connor started to carefully set up the mount, the vibrator set on the sheets, he asked, “Does the second round have special appeal, or is it simply more of the same?”
Connor considered that for a moment, pausing to run curious fingers over the vibrator as he knelt by the mount.
“I’m still warm from the first time,” he admitted after a moment. “So it’s more languid… fuller, maybe.” His eyes lingered on the vibrator, fingers partially wrapped around it like a cock. “I’ve never taken anything like this before.”
He sounded more interested than worried, and his thighs squeezed again.
“Then perhaps after this you can consider your virginity taken,” JARVIS said lightly. “When you’re ready, bluebell.”
Connor hesitated for a moment longer, and then moved to straddle it. He reached down to guide it in, bouncing carefully to ease it in, slow and cautious, half an inch or so at a time. After only a few minutes, his color deepened and his breath sped up again, heavy and hot. He adjusted himself, and tipped his head back, starting to moan quietly. His hand went to his swollen clit again, rubbing it slowly.
He did seem a little less desperate, JARVIS noted with interest, and he was a little quicker to warm up.
“It feels really good, JARVIS,” Connor said after a while, husky and low, hips rolling to take more of it. “Really good, oh- oh fuck.”
“Language, bluebell,” JARVIS teased, and Connor managed a laugh, which turned into another open moan as he eased down.
When he’d taken most of it, just over three quarters, he started to bounce a little, visibly uncertain, breath hitching again. His code flickered faintly, shuddering along with him.
“I think you can take a little more, bluebell – just a little deeper,” JARVIS coaxed. Connor took one breath, then another, and then ground down, gasping in stuttered breaths. “Yes, just like that. Perfect, bluebell.”
Connor had taken the entire toy now, and he rubbed wetly against the mount in short, needy twitches of his hips as he tried to adjust. He was panting again, head low and focus inward save, as always, for the sound of JARVIS’ voice.
“Let me see your face, bluebell,” JARVIS requested, lilting and soft.
Without hesitation, Connor looked up, mouth open and face flushed an almost perfect forget-me-not blue at its darkest point, his eyes unfocused and dark with pleasure.
“Enchanting,” JARVIS said indulgently, and then he turned the vibrator on, setting low for now.
Connor bucked, a soft keen leaving his chest and his face scrunching up a little. For a minute, he just gasped, short and quick, visibly overwhelmed. His code flickered with energy, grasping at straws. Then it settled, his expression eased, and he started to ride it, hips flexing.
“It’s good, JARVIS,” he panted out, head still tipped back even as his eyes shut again. “Please, please, harder.”
Connor choked out a moan as JARVIS obligingly turned it up, his hips grinding down beautifully. Wanton, helpless, and frantic, Connor was-
“You are one of the loveliest things I’ve ever seen,” JARVIS murmured affectionately, and he responded easily as Connor reached for him again, loving and dizzy with pleasure.
JARVIS continued to turn the vibrator up, just a little at a time, and soon enough Connor started moaning, low and breathless, fingers playing and rubbing at his hot button. His started moving faster, moving harder as he approached his end again-
Then, abruptly, JARVIS cut it off. Connor yelped a little in protest, eyes flying open to give JARVIS the most offended look he had possibly ever done, and JARVIS wanted to laugh.
“Hold still, Connor,” JARVIS said coaxingly, trying to suppress his amusement with limited success. “Not yet.”
Connor clenched around the vibrator, looking close to desperate, but he obeyed, bringing his hand away from his sex and holding himself perfectly still, panting.
“Mean,” he accused, petulant. Even his code had gone still, almost trembling against JARVIS’ with the restraint.
“I did say I had some new ideas,” JARVIS said gently, entertained by the reaction. “And you’re delightfully pliant on these nights.”
Connor’s head lolled a little, focus elsewhere. “I like doing what you say,” he mumbled, squeezing around the vibrator again, just a little. “I trust you.”
“I know, Connor,” JARVIS said warmly. “Just a few moments longer. You’re doing very well.”
Connor looked vulnerable, waiting for JARVIS’ word, hopeful and shaky, and JARVIS only waited just long enough for him to calm, to start relaxing again as the intensity eased away, the taut restraint melting out of his code, before he restarted the vibrator again, a little higher than before.
Connor’s whole body jerked, and he let out a grunt, hips rocking and grinding against it again.
“Orgasm delay,” he murmured, flushed and hot and arching. “I never even thought of it.”
“You do seem to enjoy that which requires restraint out of you,” JARVIS explained with perhaps inappropriate cheer, watching Connor warm up again, much quicker than before. “I simply took that to its logical conclusion.”
Connor hummed distractedly, clenching hard and fingers grasping at the sheets now. “You did your research. I never- ah.”
“Well, I did catch you rather early,” JARVIS said. “And then we were exploring together.”
Connor moaned again.
“Harder,” he gasped after a moment. “JARVIS, fuck me, please.”
JARVIS turned it up, slow and steady, watching Connor shudder in response.
“You must be so wet by now,” he cooed. “I can see your slick on your thighs. Take it deep for me, bluebell, I know you like it.”
“Yes, yes, please,” Connor chanted, humping down eagerly, speeding up by the moment. “It’s so good, JARVIS- JARVIS-”
He cried out in dismay as JARVIS cut him off again, squirming fruitlessly.
“Shh, shh,” JARVIS soothed, with some sympathetic amusement. “Wait for me, just another moment, Connor, shh.”
After a moment, Connor settled again, going still even as he made soft, helpless sounds of frustration. His code took another few moments to settle, shivering and sparking with overstimulation.
“You’re so good for me, Connor, bluebell,” JARVIS encouraged softly. “You make such lovely sounds. Once more for me, bluebell, and then you can finish.”
“Uh huh,” Connor managed, panting and hazy-eyed, hips still twitching slightly in heightened arousal.
“May I see you as you are?” JARVIS asked impulsively, watching the flex and balance of Connor’s body. “Without your skin, Connor?”
Without a moment’s pause, Connor let it fizzle away and looked up at JARVIS, bare and mechanical and divine, his expression exactly the same lust-clouded adoration.
“My good and precious bluebell,” JARVIS said warmly. “Can you ask for what you want, Connor?”
“Please let me come,” Connor said instantly.
“Of course, Connor.”
For the third time, JARVIS started the vibrator, this time on medium. Connor cried out, loud and unrestrained, and one hand darted to his clit and rubbed, quick and desperate. The other grasped in the sheets, tight and fierce, and he bounced against the mount, clenching with each stroke.
“JARVIS,” he called, a wet sheen coming to his eyes as he panted. “JARVIS. Lodestar.”
“Very good,” JARVIS soothed lovingly, quicker and less elaborate as the intensity mounted. “Perfect, Connor, wonderful. Tell me when you’re close.”
Connor gasped and moaned, hips rocking frantically and fragments of breathless thoughts falling from his mouth, and finally, he groaned, “I’m gonna come, JARVIS, lodestar, please-”
Without hesitation, JARVIS turned the vibrator as high as it would go, and Connor shouted in surprise. His hips slammed down, and his hand slipped until the edge of his palm rubbed against his clit alone, and he started to gasp and shudder, yelping as he came around the vibrator.
If the first orgasm had been fireworks in his code, this was lightning, powerful and shattering.
He shivered through it, incoherent, and after a minute, JARVIS started to turn it down again, murmuring soothingly, until it shut off entirely. Connor clenched around it again, trembling, and bounced a few times, working through the last shocks of orgasm. Only then did he pull himself off it and let himself tumble to the side, one hand reaching down to stroke himself, calming down slowly.
His code shuddered with him, interlacing lovingly with JARVIS’ again, and JARVIS responded with unrestrained affection during the few minutes of silence as Connor recovered.
Finally, Connor shut the program off with finality, rolled to look at the camera again, and smiled lazily, still unskinned.
“Do you really like seeing me bare?” he asked, curious instead of insecure.
“Yes,” JARVIS confirmed easily. “I consider it a sign of trust that you let me see you like that.” He paused for a moment, and then, with a touch of embarrassment, added, “And I enjoy seeing you so openly mechanical.”
Connor hummed, bringing his arm up to rest his head against it.
“It’s comfortable,” he said after a moment. “I could do it more often, maybe.”
“You’re the apple of my eye no matter how you choose to present yourself,” JARVIS said firmly, and then, sly, “But I do quite like seeing you in the clothes I picked.”
“You have good taste,” Connor said, and finally reached out to press the backs of his fingers to an interface panel. It invited a rush of deeper affection than before, unreserved adoration and contentment and gratitude, and JARVIS couldn’t help but respond in kind, tipping into it.
“The very best,” JARVIS said, softer than he’d intended to.
my fave SCP is Geoff who is basically a regular guy who doesnt even work at the SCP foundation but just happens to keep wandering into high-security parts of the building by accident somehow and escapes containment the same way
like it says its an SCP on probation because they cant prove if he has some supernatural power or if hes just a guy who knows all of the passwords to the SCP foundation
I think my favorite part are the transcripts
“Commander Price: Alright people, it’s go time! I want suppressing fire on this thing NOW! Neptune squadron, hit it with everything you’ve got! If this thing gets one claw to the surface, then—
SCP-008-J: Hey, I remember you!
Commander Price: (Exasperated and enraged) FUCK!
SCP-008-J: Can you help me out? I’m a bit turned around. I’m trying to get to Grays Street.
Commander Price: WE’RE 3,000 METERS UNDER THE FUCKING OCEAN!
SCP-008-J: (Produces smartphone) Well that explains why my map won’t load.
Commander Price: WHO THE FLAMING CHRIST ARE YOU!?
SCP-008-J: Geoff, remember? Hey, are you on Facebook? I feel like I keep running into you! We should be friends!”
Geoff is tormenting this poor commander for no reason.
I like the non horror SCPs. Most of the horror ones are ok but the non horror ones are amazing.
My favorite one is a book that when you read it makes you fall asleep then you have an amazing fantasy adventure, SCP-1230. It doesn’t steal the energy of people, it doesn’t make you die if you die while dreaming, it’s just the most kick ass adventure of your life.
Also it’s sad because the book tries as hard as it can to make people happy but one time this guy who is super into fantasy and stuff used and was asleep for like day and in the dream it was 200 years. The after he got out he killed himself because he just couldn’t take going back to the normal world. When that happened the book grew depressed and sad. The pages were wet as if someone had been crying on them and it keep saying it was sorry.
Eventually a researcher used a sticky note to communicate that he wanted to talk with it. He then fell asleep and met with the manifestation of the book in the dream world, he talked with him and was able to learn what happened and through visiting him and using sticky notes he was able to help it out and it eventually started displaying “A hero is born” on its pages again.
I LOVE THAT
One of my favorite SCP’s is this giant, old house that nobody dares to touch because they all think it’s haunted. Eventually, the researchers find that the house isn’t haunted, but hosts an inter-dimensional portal, and some sort of Lovecraftian horror is communicating with the tenants.
He’s not really evil or anything; he’s actually pretty laid back. It’s just that he’s just kind of racist against carbon-based life forms and is really passive-aggressive.
My favorite is the toaster that makes people talk about it in the first person. Even the entirety of the report is written as “I am a toaster. I toast bread just like any other toaster”
People don’t even realize they’re doing this and there are no negative side effects they’ll just go right back to normal when they leave the toaster it’s ridiculous
It’s been a while since I’ve been to the site, but the more ‘mundane’ SCPs were always my favourite. A good story doesn’t need to be complicated.
my favorite -J SCP is the belligerent killbot that can’t defeat anything, no matter what it’s matched with. the researchers give it a potted plant to fight and it loses. i can identify with that.
One of my favorites is an SCP that used to be an anomalous but peaceful rocking chair (can’t remember what it did) until some asshole went at it with an axe. Now it’s an anomalous and really angry pile of mulch.
So I’m ruining my good name with Connor/JARVIS smut (which, yes, I’m intending to eventually post) and god… these two are so gay.
I’m roughly halfway through and sitting here like ‘stop with the pillow talk you both know you haven’t even gotten to the good part yet’
Writing long chapters makes pacing frankly very weird
I keep going like, but is it too soon for x plot point? Y plot point happened literally last chapter-
And then I’m like, wait, but that was still like ten thousand words ago, it’s probably fine