Deviant Behavior (Connor x Reader)

Part V: Public Enemy

"Don't ever stop feeding it..."

His chin rested on your shoulder, just below your jawline.  The bridge of his nose pointed your face at the skyline, and one hand pulled away as he started undoing a button below your waist.

"Even if it means letting this whole city burn."

...

It was like someone was sucking your breath through a straw.  A slimy, plastic ring clamped around your mouth like a humid squid.  Your arm stung at the crook of your elbow, a bee's sting that had a cord attached to its stinger.  The images running through your head were fucked, and you were confused in this lucid state of being.

Water splashed across your skin.  It was cold and hot all at once, leaving an uncomfortable, raw feeling as it seeped in your shirt.  Had you spitting it at the hazy blob of a figure crouched in front of you and kicking your feet at his shins.  He fell backwards, breaking his fall with one arm and pushing himself upright; a knee on the floor, this time.

"She's awake!" Gavin called over his shoulder, wiping his face.

He shook his head in disappointment, screwing a cap back on a water bottle.  Gave you the same look Elijah had countless times, as if he was going to quote him with a, "This is all you ever bring me."

"Keep it up and your face is gonna have as many scars as mine."

They had a similar way of making you want to punch them in the face and give Gavin more scars.  The two of them looked the same in your blurry focus, actually.  Probably just the nightmare.

"DPD only has enough room for one 'Scarface.'"  Your voice was muffled behind the oxygen mask.

There weren't any paramedics left.  Maybe they were with the guy shot in the hallway and knocked out guards behind the desk.  You wondered if any of them made it out in one piece...or, you know, not dead.

Gavin ran a hand through his hair, the tips of it damp, "You're an idiot, you know that?"

You tried to catch your breath, glancing around the broadcast control room.  Amidst the DPD Officers roaming the perimeter were the same specialists from the Ortiz crime scene, plastic-wrapped in CSI-branded suits; picking away at bullet holes and dropping fresh evidence markers.  SWAT team members in all-black gear and assault rifles barred each entrance and exit.

You'd seen all them before.

The people in FBI jackets, however, you hadn't...

Not recently.  Not in Detroit.

"You're still not listening." Gavin scoffed, "Un-fucking-believable."

"What do you want me to say, Reed?" You snapped, throwing a mylar blanket off you for what you guessed was for hypothermia treatment.

"Uh, I don't know – start with an apology, maybe?"

"For what?"

"For fucking taking off and leaving Miller by himself?  For almost getting yourself killed, again?  I don't even know where to start!"

He pushed off his knees and stood, tapping his chest before holding his hands out, leaning over to yell at you, "How did you know those android fucks weren't dangerous, huh?  You just left him to go play fuckin' hero up on the rooftop.  How many good cops getting killed is it gonna take for you to get your fucking head out of your ass?!"

You sniffed, your cheek stinging under the bandage that covered it, "Watch yourself, Gavin."

"Or what?" He huffed a laugh, "Huh?  The fuck are you gonna do?"