Chapter Text
He had three capitalized texts from Detective Reed, one from North, and two from Connor updating case files. An impending alert told him another human suspect has accused him of excessive force. Tina Chen sent him an email requesting technical assistance, and he had five minutes to get to work because Reed hadn't told him he came in early. The situation was not ideal for Nines Stern.
Nines may be a Myrmidon android capable of executing missions akin to the Navy Seals, but his fate, unfortunately, is tied to his loudmouth asshole partner with basic academy credentials and way too many memes. If the android wanted to remain in the precinct with his brother, Detective Reed had to back him up when suspects accused Nines of unnecessary force.
Why Reed's word meant more to the department than Nines’ literally photographic memory, he will never comprehend.
So he swings by the Brush Jar, some hipster high scale coffee place he prefers over sugary chains, on his way to work. Reed always shoves him for coffee during morning shifts, and he's found the human functions marginally better when given the caffeine. The first time he arrived with the drink, Eights had shaken his head. Reed looked up from his desk surprised, muttering “About time,” before accepting it. Only back in their apartment did Connor remind him he didn't need to do that. Sure, he didn't need to, but it's way easier to deal with Reed when he's agreeable.
By the next day, Reed didn't comment. He just took the cup and nursed it until his hangover or sleep deprivation lessened enough for productivity.
Today seems especially testy, with Reed receiving a notification from Fowler about a particularly troublesome case. That doesn’t bode well for Nines’ intended conversation. There's a celebration occurring in the Jericho family for Carl's birthday this weekend, and Connor invited him along. He told Detective Reed on Wednesday without receiving any acknowledgement. Now it's Friday. Perhaps a reminder will prevent the inevitable irritated call and argument when he doesn't show up to assist as usual.
“Good morning, Detective,” Nines says. He might as well remind him now. Experience showed him Reed is unlikely to engage in conversation or argue until he's fully awake, even though he retains the information. It's a good time to inform him of obstacles. “I've officially received this weekend off to celebrate Carl Manfred's birthday, so if you need work done beforehand, please leave it on my desk today.”
“Fan-fucking-tastic.”
“I finished the reports for the Kripke case and reviewed the evidence for the Sawyer murder. I believe your contributions will greatly expedite the process.”
“If I wanted your praise, I would’ve asked for it.”
Nines breezes over the snark. “I placed the corrected, updated, larger print, double-spaced copy of my endorsement papers on your desk for you to fill out as requested.”
“Times New Roman?”
Nines nods.
“Half-inch margin?”
He nods again.
“You really covered your ass with the details, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t want to miss any more of your specifications.”
“Good for you. I’ll tell you when I get to it.”
“Captain Fowler requested you meet with him-”
“Yeah, I know.” He snatches the coffee and heads to the glass box without updating Nines of anything. The two humans talk in the office alone.
Nines doesn't let that get to him. At this point, he's used to Reed being an ass. Officer Chen says it's just in his nature. Having to wait for his partner, Nines helps Tina organize her digital files and monitor her footprint.
She nods at him when he approaches. “Sup, Blade Runner?”
He smiles, sitting against the edge of her desk. “Living the electronic dream.”
“Yeah, I've noticed. He's more of a jackass than usual when Fowler calls him in.” She gazes towards the office and sighs. “Thank god I have you for tech problems instead.”
Connor sends a sympathetic thought his way, catching his eye as he walks with Anderson to the evidence locker. Tina flicks her gaze up at his LED when it registers the contact.
“That your brother?”
Nines nods.
“He tell you to quit and move up to FBI?”
“Every single day.”
“Why don't you?”
He quirks a brow. “But Tina, why would I ever leave?”
They maintain eye contact for .23 seconds before she cracks up. His indicators show a closer bond with her. It's...nice. Although he still doesn't understand most of the language used between her and Reed, nor the images they send each other referencing cultural icons of bygone decades, the data appears to prove he can befriend a human anyway.
“Just get over here, RK.”
---
“So, am I finally being promoted?”
“Don’t start with me, Reed.”
Jeffery Fowler vaguely reminds Gavin of Holt from Brooklyn 99, only less comically deadpan and lacking in the gay department. He wants a Cheddar in the office, but that one time he tried to name one of the K-9 units was the last time they trusted him around animals. Sherlock Bones is a fantastic name for a sniffer. These people need better taste.
Speaking of taste, the coffee Nines brought him? Has to be one of the best. He probably researched the crap out of Gavin's optimal productivity and found a tangible difference in flavor. The first month was entirely experimental. There was a new taste every day, varying in blend, sugar, sweetener, milk, and creamer. Not that Gavin could really tell the difference between Splenda or Sweet n’ Low, or 2% versus 1%. But Nines could, with his ramped up walking lab of a mouth. Reed basically saw him taking mental notes of it. He never told the android that he specifically gave more shits when he got what he ordered in the first place. Gavin had the feeling it’d piss him off, and his next coffee would have contained arsenic.
The one today is the finished experiment result. It's his stupid mix of sugar because Treat Yourself but also no creamer because life is bitter. And there's a little, subtle difference too, something Nines changed, but he can't tell what and like hell he'd ever ask. It's just...good.
Way better than talking to Fowler so goddamn early.
“What's the problem?” Gavin knocks back another sip as the glass door shuts, noticing a scrawl of writing just under the cup label. Call me! ❤Anita. Anita's number or whatever it is androids might use instead curves under his thumb. It doesn't take his academy training to figure out what this means. Coffee girl has a thing for Nines, and she doesn't know that Nines isn't ordering for himself. Some androids do, but he doesn't.
He wonders if the tin can will call her back. There's no way he hadn't noticed.
“The problem is your attitude.” Fowler interrupts his train of thought with a disappointed line. It isn't the first time he's said that exact thing. Something about today is different. “You know we can't keep overbooking the twins to placate Jericho and Warren.”
A scoff escapes Gavin without him meaning to. He stifles it with another sip. The twins. Nines and Connor were two editions sold separately. The looks and voices are all that validated that nickname.
Overbooking. Didn't they both take this weekend off for something? Three whole days the machines aren't working. How is Nines, always working or thinking about working, going to do that?
Fowler gives him a look but moves on anyway. “Point is, human officers are still needed, but they have to play nice with others. You fucked up the Smith case as soon as you opened your mouth. Warren's team got right on that, wanting to suspend you for discrimination and wrongful imprisonment.”
“The guy was guilty as shit, Cap.”
“It doesn't matter if he was or not, you can't treat androids differently than humans anymore. Android memories are gaining support in courtrooms, Reed. Where do you think that leaves you?”
A longer sip to think. “You realize your androids aren't perfect, right? You remember Anderson bailing Connor out for that back alley accident? Or last week when we brought in the crackhead Nines knocked out to shut up? This shit goes both ways, Jeff. I think I'm just fine where I am.”
Fowler leans forward. “Don't start using the RKs to bail yourself out, Gavin. They're what we've made of them, and whatever issues pop up with them are quickly resolved. They learn from their mistakes, imagine that. Meanwhile you don't, and it's not going to fly anymore.”
“The fuck are you saying?”
“You're off field duty. We cannot have an officer with clear prejudice to handle these cases, they're too sensitive right now and we're in the spotlight. I'm-”
No. No, no no no no fucking shit. Taking him off the one thing he's good at? No! “Oh go fuck yourself, seriously?” Restless energy carries him forward to the desk, no outlet readily available except tapping. “I'm two cases away from beating Anderson this month, you can't take me out!”
Fowler slaps his own hands down on his desk in exasperation. “Tough shit, Gavin! I don't want you stuck in paperwork hell either, but you refused to change! We can't afford you calling one more suspect a plastic prick! It’s either the Archives or the door.”
The fucker deserved being called a plastic prick. Even Nines looked annoyed at one point, and he's a damn robot. Gavin can feel himself getting worked up but can't bring himself to care. This is righteous anger.
Anita's number smears as his grip dents the cup. Good. If he's stuck having a shitty day, at least he won't have to deal with that staring him in the face anymore.
---
Helping Chen is a long and difficult task. Tina follows his instructions by debating everything. He knows this is her way of ensuring understanding, but he wishes, not for the first time, she would trust him. “Nines, how the hell am I going to find anything when this is done?”
“Do you see the search bar at the bottom of the screen?”
Chen leans forward, pointing until her finger pokes the monitor. “There, I know, I wasn't born yesterday. But there's like, fifty million formats and versions of files that are updated every shift with the same name.”
“Tina, they can't have the same name or they would save over each other. If it's changing between formats, we can put all of the pdfs in one folder, and jpegs in another, and so on.”
“But how do I see which one is updated? Do I have to open every damn version?”
Nines bites down impatience. Humans don't process as fast as androids. They also tend to develop habits that become obsolete with new technology. He's spared from it because he didn't exist to develop those habits. A look at the clock on her screen declares it twelve minutes since Reed was called in for his meeting. Reed had a general rule for Nines to extract him from meetings after ten.
“I'm going to check on Detective Reed,” he says, half relieved to have a break.
Tina narrows her eyes at the office, her nose scrunching. “Yeah, you'd better. Looks pretty heated.”
Sure enough, both humans are at each other's throats, Reed fidgeting restlessly and Fowler's veins outlined. Lieutenant Anderson glances over from his desk, surveying the argument and Nines’ obvious intent. “Careful, kid,” he calls before crossing his arms, ready to watch. Chris pauses next to him, report in hand. “Looks pretty bad today.”
It's not unusual for them to look out for him, especially when Reed is explosive. This retrieval, however, is another routine Nines has established in the past few months he's worked under the human. He straightens his jacket, taps Reed's monitor for a sufficient excuse, and heads into Fowler's office.
“-any other way, we would, but until that happens, you're off all android-related cases!”
“You know that's basically everything! We can't go five feet without running into an android for evidence or pursuit or some shit! You're basically sticking me in the basement!”
“What do you want me to say, Gavin?” Fowler is standing, his right hand flatly gesturing to the other human. “That you aren't a blatant racist against androids and can be completely sympathetic on cases? We both know that's bullshit. And if anything goes wrong like the Smith case, you're out. We can't afford to lose public trust in all these politics just because you can't get your head out of your ass!”
“I'm your best, Jeffery, you can't just-”
Fowler's nostrils flare, his heart rate increasing. “I do whatever I need to do, Reed. And-”
Nines doesn't need to hear much more to know what's going on. Public outcry led to Connor and Nines working overtime most nights so captured android suspects were interrogated and processed by fellow androids. The department was cleaning house to make sure Jericho and its demands were met, particularly focusing on justice for crimes against androids. If the DPD couldn't provide that in a world of digital transparency, they'd be run off the streets. Not that Markus would get onto their cases, especially concerning the RKs, but North and other like-minded androids wouldn't wait for the justice they've suffered for. Reed just happens to be next on the list.
“Detective Reed,” he interrupts mildly. The fuming detective locks onto him, fingers tapping against the desk. “You have a call waiting for you from Mary Spalding about the Jacobs case.”
Fowler scowls at Nines. “Can't you take it?”
“No, Captain. They're requesting a 'real person’ to speak with. They wouldn't listen when I told them Gavin was otherwise engaged.”
Nines scans Reed's vitals to see how high his blood pressure reached today. If it sustained a certain level for more than an hour per day, he would go out drinking with Tina and show up the next day hungover. Today's rapidly approaching the cumulative hour. Then something shifts. His vitals are still higher than usual, but his expression mirrors the spark of unlocking a case.
Reed shoves away from Fowler's desk and saunters over to Nines, stopping just a few inches from his side before turning back. A smug look overtakes his stressed features. What changed?
“Captain, you don't need to take me off field duty.”
“Are you stupid or just not listening to a word I'm saying?”
“Oh, I heard you, Jeffery. But I'm not a fucking racist.”
Fowler gestures again, wider. “Everyone knows you hate androids, Detective!”
Reed shakes his head, crossing his arms. “How the hell can I hate androids when I'm fucking marrying one?”
Nines tilts his head at Reed. He hasn't seen any sign of an android interacting with his partner beyond Connor passing along evidence. Even if it was strictly in his personal life, Reed isn't precise enough to hide every trace from Nines. Marriage? With what evidence?
Fowler also pauses. He glances between Reed and Nines. “Reed, what the fuck are you getting at?”
“Nines. Me. Partners. If I didn't see androids as equals, why the fuck would I bother proposing?”
Nines’ LED cycles yellow. The others are outside, watching this exchange through the glass. They can surely see the anxious gleam of his LED bouncing off all the reflective surfaces. Oh shit, where had Connor gone? He wouldn't be happy Reed was involving him in the argument. Despite his handle on himself, he feels a little regret. Having Eights to mediate would at least force a little more sense out of this situation. Is this a joke he’s not getting?
“Fraud, Gavin. That shit isn't going to work.”
“You think marrying Nines makes me a fraud? Now who's the racist?”
Fowler's hand curls until he's pointing right at Reed. “You don't get to use that word in my office ever again.”
“Look, are we done here? My partner and I would like to get back to business here.”
“You realize there's an inquiry, right? Every time we consider fraud, we have to investigate, even if it's in house. And if you're lying, you get arrested and Nines gets a reboot.”
“It's a damn good thing I'm not lying then, huh, Jeffery? Come on.”
“You and Nines? Really?”
“Oh yeah, yeah,” Reed nudges his shoulder with his own, a fond gesture Nines has come to expect with far more force and far less affection. “All those late night cases, the coffee runs, you know. An unlikely event that happened anyways.”
“Stern.” Fowler rests his gaze fully on the android now, appealing to logic. “Anything you want to say?”
Reed's green eyes indicate he has a scheme. In the past few months, that meant the plan was questionable at best but effective as long as they worked together. If Nines refuses to help, Reed will be off field duty. Does that mean Nines will be reassigned? He doesn't want to start over again with another human. This one took forever to win basic respect from. And there's the last report as well, which he needs Reed to help with. He knew he shouldn't have used his programming on the suspect, but it was easy to slip into and the guy was getting on every last one of Nines’ nerves. Yet just as Reed needs to hold back on android suspects, Nines should always have done the same to human ones.
Gavin: Companion
Both humans look to him for an answer. His LED stutters back to blue. There's power in what he's about to say. He catches Reed's gaze, making the outward smugness buckle a bit. Nines has power over their fates now. Oh, the options that open up.
“I apologize for not informing you sooner, Captain. It's so recent, I hadn't yet decided how to proceed.”
Fowler's mouth drops open, Reed regaining what confidence he could. He's going to owe him big time.
“So you're confirming this? Why the hell are you supporting this story? Nines, everyone in this office sees the way you treat each other!”
He modulates his tone, putting a little remorse into it. “I thought it best to maintain our previous relationship in the workplace so we could remain efficient. My protocols say workplace romances are unprofessional and would work against my assimilation with other officers.”
“You're really going to get on him about acting like his usual android self?” Reed scoffs. “The fuck, Captain?”
“What I'm getting-no, you know what?” Fowler drops into his chair, rubbing his eyes. “I'm not getting into this. You two have a full-fledged investigation to worry about. If you want to get arrested for fraud, by all means. I'm not paid enough for this shit.”
Reed winks. “Glad to know you care.”
“Shut up Reed! The inquiry starts Tuesday. They're going to dig into your records, your friends, hell they might even scan Nines’ memory. Get out of this now, while you still can.”
“No can do, Cap. Not unless you can put me back on duty without making this public.”
“Dammit.” Fowler turns to his computer as if he can't look at them anymore. “Well, congratulations, lovebirds. Let's hope you don't get arrested.”
Reed rolls his eyes and strides out of the office, brushing past Nines. Through the glass, half the department watches, speculating. Connor has reappeared, standing next to Chen at her desk. Good. Connor has more patience to negotiate her debates.
“Nines.” He looks back at Captain Fowler, who wearily glances his way. “You don't have to go through with this. I don't care what your programming says. You don't have to take the fall for Reed.”
He arcs a brow. “I am a deviant, Captain. I'm aware of the situation, and I'm sure Gavin can tell you that I've frequently ignored his orders before.”
Fowler lets out a long breath and shakes his head. He analyzes 900 up and down before scrubbing his eyes and sighing. “Married. Shit. And here I thought you not killing each other was a miracle.”
“You wouldn't be the only one.”
“Don't get smart with me, Stern.” He waves a hand in his general direction. “I'll send you the questions they're gonna ask you both. Then I don't want either of you in here unless it's all good.”
“Understood, Captain. Thank you.”
Fowler clearly finished talking and conversation dismissed, he returns to the general floor, scanning the room. Hank and Chris glance curiously from the right. Connor and Tina wait ahead, her digital organization either completed or ignored. Where did Reed go?
“How dead is he?” Tina calls, looking amused. Connor's LED skips in its rhythm at Nines’ expression. He doesn't know how much of his confusion reaches his face, but he knows his posture screams determined.
A click of the stairwell door has Nines moving. The roof. Gavin takes smoke breaks sometimes on the roof when things are particularly fucked.
Sure enough, the bastard is pacing along the ledge, eyes on the Detroit skyline and a cig in hand, not even lit. Tina once joked about a metaphor. Nines didn't get the reference.
The roof is still snow spattered and chilly in the early springtime breeze. The partial sun does nothing to warm his biocomponents. He lowers his temperature sensitivity and stalks to the human. He doesn't say anything. He just waits for Reed to start talking. He always does if Nines waits long enough. It takes 47 seconds.
“Something on your mind, droid?”
Nines crosses his arms and waits, glaring. Reed glances over and scoffs. “Oh come on,” the human says, tapping his cig against his fingers, “What was I supposed to do? This department is my life. I'm not about to let politics stick me in the basement for the rest of my life.”
“A basement is exactly where I will end up if this goes wrong, Detective.” Nines lets himself scowl, the view doing nothing to calm his nerves. “You've placed both of us in a much worse position.”
“Oh, really?” Reed's voice takes a mocking tone, and he pokes Nines’ shoulder. “ You could have easily stopped it if you told Cap the truth. Seems to me you brought yourself into the much worse position.” And the motherfucker has the nerve to wink.
“I'm designed to adapt to human unpredictability. It's only because I help your absurd ideas that they work out in the end.”
“That’s blatantly untrue.” Nines cocks a brow, and Reed rolls his eyes. “Come on, it was for your good too.” At further disbelief, he continues. “Look, the minute they pull me off field duty, every review I made of you is put under scrutiny. Every file, every report, every case we’ve ever been on gets scrubbed because they can’t rely on my word, right? So you have to start all over again with someone else, giving you at least a few more months and a hell of a lot more murder to get through before you’re cleared for your own creds.”
“And marriage was your solution?”
“Yeah, obviously. It gives me credibility and keeps all your good reviews, letting me stay on cases and you closer to your badge. Problem fucking solved.”
Nines begins to argue his logic, but he made some solid points. His HUD blinks with an email. Fowler sent the interview questions. He pulls it up on his palm and scrolls through, Reed ignoring him to stare over the city. “There's an interview for each of us to test the relationship, and several more for our coworkers, friends, and family to validate it. The answers all have to match up to be believable. Our chance at success is-”
“Never tell me the odds, Nines. It'll be fine.”
“Detective Reed, you know next to nothing about me. You don't have any answers to these questions. How do you plan on pulling this off?”
“Do I look like I have the slightest fucking clue what I'm doing?” Reed shoves his hand away, the display cutting out. “Give me five seconds to breathe, god. Take the stick out of your ass and chill.”
Nines has many options as to how to proceed, but he takes the first one that he sees. Perhaps that's a true testament to how irritating Reed is, that Nines doesn't logically consider each path before choosing. “I'd choose my words carefully, Detective.”
This whirls Reed around, flicking his cigarette on the ground. “You threatening me, tin can? Huh?”
“You want me to lie to everyone I've ever known so you can avoid consequences for your prejudice. I'm sorry, what about this tells you the solution is to 'chill’?”
“I've covered you every time human suspects try to get crafty. I don't have to keep doing that.”
“Threatening me isn't going to create a sufficient explanation.”
“How about-”
Reed never gets to finish his rant because Connor marches through the stairwell door. Both of them stop arguing to evaluate him. 52's stress level is 15%, which is high for him. His LED processes something, brown eyes thoroughly scanning each of them. Nothing comes through their channel, leaving his thoughts a mystery. The breeze nips at his coat hem. He finally settles his gaze on his brother.
Eights took him in, dealt with him even before Nines could overcome his programming and stop trying to shut him down. He'll be the number one person to ask during the inquiry because he knows him better than anyone else in the world. They owe him an explanation. They owe him something nice, something that won't make him worry for Nines. They don't have the slightest idea on how to provide that.
A new mission appears. Shame threatens to color Nines’ cheeks and makes him look away. Avoid Connor.
Eights’ mild voice breaks the tense silence. “Nines, why did Captain Fowler just call me into his office to affirm your deviancy?”
He straightens, letting his shoulders relax and his anger recede. Modulating his tone, he answers. “Evidently, he doesn't trust my word alone.”
“And why did he need your word?”
“He didn't believe me when I agreed with Detective Reed. He thought it was my programming speaking for me.”
Connor gets closer, smoothly squaring himself to Nines. It singles him out, making Connor more intense and Nines more targeted. Eights wants answers. “What was so unbelievable?”
“That's none of your business, Connor,” Reed interjects, crossing his arms.
“I asked my brother the question, Gavin.”
“And he's too polite to tell you to fuck off!”
Nines steps between them, giving Reed a clear ‘ shut up ’ and drawing Eights’ focus. He pitches his voice lower, softer. “Can we talk about this at home?”
It's a low blow, using his pleading tone on Connor's empathy. The move registers in his brother's eyes, but he reluctantly disengages. He nods, backing down. “Sure, Nines. Tonight.” With a final warning look to Reed, Connor heads back inside, the door slowly clicking shut behind him.
The glare Nines shoots Reed makes the human step back. If he didn't want to approach Connor with this all figured out, he'd follow his predecessor back inside. But since he does, and the idiot in front of him has to figure it out with him, he stays.
“What am I going to tell Eights? They'll ask him about the engagement. What do you think will happen when both investigation androids have no memory supporting your claim?”
“Nines, do I look like I have a goddamn clue-”
“Nines.” Connor contacts him through their channel, sounding...odd. “Agent Shapiro is on her way-”
“-are you even listening to me?”
He bites back a defensive response and a sarcastic comment. “Agent Shapiro is on her way.”
“What the fuck-”
The door opens again, Shapiro striding through. She brushes her black curls out of her face as the wind catches it. One of her eyebrows arches into disbelief, and she points to them both, curtly gesturing for them to follow her.