Ecstasy - Connor x Reader Detroit: Become Human

Chapter 7: Pressure (1 of 2)

Heels clicked onto the glossy tiles; heads turn toward the snap, glass barriers swiped to an open.

Plan was simple. Get in, get out. Under Markus's guidance, the mayor handed me an earpiece to stay on the line in case any issue surfaced. Prior to this afternoon, I persuaded him into letting me run a few errands at the DPD. Begrudgingly, he allowed it after Connor placed his input in the argument.

Correcting my uniform, I step inward, soaking into the collective prying gazes. To my left, the RK800 breathed deeply and endured the invisible weight of the room with me. Chris choked on his coffee, "(L/N)?" And officers that were utilising their monitors faced my direction.

Welcoming cheers trickled into the precinct and Hank swung over to us the first chance he got. "Hey everyone, hey Anderson," I greeted cheerfully. "My god, it's good to see you back, you have no idea" he beamed, wrapping me in a bear hug. "Ow, ow," I repeated, wincing at the bandages that were being stretched. Hank halts and whispers his apologies.

"Oh shoot, you found Connor too," he observed, shaking hands with him. "Had me worried." Politely, Connor casts a reserved smile. "Still functioning, lieutenant." Mentions of encouragement and kind phrases were showered onto me as officers steered to their desks.

Gavin pushed his efforts to appear unfazed from the high coffee table. "Oh, you're alive, great," he mumbles, not moving an inch. "You know you missed me," I teased, sending a wink. Partially agape, the detective sipped at his drink, equally being stunned by my unpredictability, and prolonging his sulking attitude. He didn't decline my joke either, surprisingly.

Gagging noises emptied out of the twitching earpiece, "Please focus on the task at hand," Markus begged. "Don't mock me, (L/N)," Gavin failed to hurl his usual sarcastic remarks and could only manage his basic thought process. Cute, he did miss me. What an uncommon sight to see. Connor fixes his tie, gently nudging me a reminder.

These officers would've been way more skeptical if I hadn't returned sooner or later. Markus had no chance in keeping me at Jericho for days on end, especially when I have a tough workload to sort through.

"Hank, I'm about to head in and pitch the investigation to Fowler again," I say, seeing the distant man rising from his seat in the transparent cubicle. "Will you be free when I'm done?"

The lieutenant verifies his messy desk of notes and rubs the back of his neck, "Yeah, I should be able to finish the last few sheets." Patting him on the back, I smiled, "Great." Connor strides up the stairs and holds the entrance open, after thanking him, I head straight for my supervisor.

"Fowler," I start out, occupying the last vacant seat.

"(L/N)," he acknowledged, tidying his area. "Are you here for a personal welcome?" I shook my head at him, "Good, because I wasn't going to give you one regardless. You've been away for too long." Geez, my absence hasn't ticked over a week and he's complaining already.

Guess it's his way of showing that he missed the entertaining fights Gavin and I started whenever we got bored or had too much spare time under our belts. Or to keep each other awake when caffeine stopped working, either one. Gave the office something to laugh at during lifeless shifts of cramping over hours of keyboard use and reorganising years of data.

"Here to ask when I can begin my investigation, sir," Fowler hardens his expression and searches for cabinets in his reach. "Forgot you've been obsessing over that," he grunted, shifting a hefty pile of records. He digs through contracts and templates and secures a sheet that's satisfactory.

He squeezes a pen in his grip, leaned back in his chair. "Now this is a serious investigation, are you certain that you want to take this on? I mean, you're relatively fresh in this department and there are a whole set of candidates that are compatible to pursue the case."

Fowler rests his elbows on the edge of his desk, leaning his chin on his tanned rough knuckles. "Why should I grant you this investigation?"

Connor brushes my jacket and dares to answer on my behalf.

"Detective (L/N) is a reliable officer, and I can confidently admit that she is the most compatible worker for this position. You may believe she is too heavily involved and that it would inspire a... bias perception of the matter," he cuts himself off to return his arm by his side, and to take a challenging glimpse at Fowler, "maybe you're right."

Fowler deepens his frown at the android, "Go on."

"Not once seen an officer demonstrate such integrity and commendable behaviour toward a machine. She made this case possible because she chose to save me from the river when anybody else would have ignored me." He slides his strikingly soft brown gaze, staring admiringly at me for an extensive amount of time.

"Not only did she save me, but... she has gone out of her way to act on my injustice," and he continues to glance directly at me, lowering his voice, "And I am extremely grateful for that." Fowler writes a few notes, wanting to attend to his monitor. "Get to the point."

"Her qualities are beyond standard eligibility for this case, and you won't regret opening this case under her management."

Did he prepare a script beforehand? Did he truly mean that or was that constructed to impress Fowler? "You speak highly of her, RK800," he mused, writing lines on a separate sheet. "Your argument is that she's able to handle this task, she saved you, and her actions speak loud enough that it should appeal to me, correct?"

Connor echoes, "Correct." A sigh comes from Fowler. "You're right in that way of thinking, RK800. And if I don't give you control of this case, you'd both be on my ass about it for countless months, so I'll humour you this." A different sheet is presented on the desk.

"Sign here and you're good to go," Disbelief swallows me, shifting my gaze at the empty signature box and him.

"What? That's it?" Fowler leans forward, squinting incredulously. "Do you have an issue with me feeling charitable today? Let's look at it this way, you won't get off my back unless you land the case, and I don't want to tolerate that today, tomorrow or schedule it for the weekend."

Fowler doesn't do 'charitable'. Not to Hank. Not to any officer. Before arriving at the precinct, I notified Markus that we'd have an extensive heated debate over the case. This was not the promised verbal war that I prepared to fight for.

Vigorously shaking my head, I absorbed the outlined information and scribbled my signature down before he could steal the miracle away. "No, not at all."

Fowler hardly lets stuff such as this to slide like it's a Friday buffet. A red ice operation got pitched to him during his sister's birthday years ago and it wouldn't have touched publication if it weren't for his swayed consent. There's more to this.

Getting up from my seat, I wander to the door. "Hold on," There it is, damn well knew it. "You're allowed to conduct it as soon as you've finished the newest release of papers," Gritting my teeth, an officer places it down on my desk, delivering a signal.

Pesky task. Not the anticipated torture I'd been due for. "Can I take it home instead?" Fowler scrunches his eyebrows and clicks a red pen, gesturing to the precinct, "You just got here."

"Staff may have permitted an early release; however, the medical personnel have instructed her to take it easy for another day before coming back to work," Connor broke in, lying as if it were the undeniable truth, "We'll be going now."

The RK800 draws the door open, "Also, I'm taking Hank as soon as he's finished over there," I escape the cubicle, having Connor at my side, "As you were, Jeffrey."

Scoffs are audible from the earpiece, "Smooth with the Hank line, could've been more formal there, also, 'as you were, Jeffrey'? (L/N) are you singlehandedly sabotaging your employment in front of your supervisor after Connor literally spent the interview buttering you up? Don't get cocky."

Does he want to be my supervisor instead? Oh, what I'd do to give him a piece of my mind. Did he force me to handle an earpiece so he could practice commentating on the line? Connor stifles himself from bursting of mirth, reading my infuriated reaction. Markus is the one who's cocky for believing his feedback is useful in the slightest.

Hank catches sight of us as we seized a fresh stack of files. Half-standing from his table, he summarises the last section before launching himself at the crystal gate next to us. "I'm done, I'm done," Hank puffed, ending his strained jog. "Nice work, lieutenant," Connor congratulated him, calling for the elevator. "Where are we headed to?"

"Your favourite place," I smirked, and a devilish grin graces Hank's features.

Chris and Gavin exchange looks as they concluded their coffee break.


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