#annie writes: dbh
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Hi just finished reading Sense and Sensitively and BRO I AM IN LOVE?? It’s been a minute since I’ve read such an amazing fic and I absolutely ADORE the care put into Leo’s redemption and Ronan and Simons relationship and Kamski and Chloe and AGH!
I am gonna reread this and I just came here to shout my praises to you directly cause bro I just. It’s hard to find some good Simon/Markus fics and this one is ABSOLUTE GOLD! Keep up the amazing work!
I've had this in my inbox for nearly two months now, because I've been holding onto it like this:
Thank you SO much, that's so very kind of you to take the time to let me know this ;;
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also also sorta offtopic but: what other games do ya play?? GO FULL OUT IN RAMBLING
ik you've seen me ramble abt twewy all the time but I also love pokémon, kirby, legend of zelda, detroit become human and golden sun !!! my brother has also been playing Hades lately and tho the playstyle isn't my thing bc I get stressed easily IT'S AN AMAZING GAME AND I LOVE IT
someday I will be able to properly try playing final fantasy and fire emblem HAHA if I have the time to play I'll let you know !!! I really want to try those games TT
HEHEHE AHJBHGDBJGH omg if you say so ,, under the cut bcs idk how much i might. ramble GSGBHB <3 <3 <3 warning. just in advance. sorry annie but you've just enabled me HGSBDHJG
( ok i finished writing. uh. i think i legitimately spent more than an hour what. BUT UHM warning it might be really long but idk HSBDHJG but disclaimer yes no need to read it all!! and tysm once again!! and sorry for. so much rambling HSDJHBG )
( edit again bcs i've woken up HOLY SHIT I DIDNT REALIZE I DIDNT POST THIS. I JUST SAVED DRAFT AND THEN POOFED HELP )
OKAY WAIT FIRST. ik you want more twewy moots yes AND THO i do consider myself to like twewy i still am sadly not into it that much yet despite i rmbr uhh neo demo, wanting to watch the animation, and then once it was on sale. i was hyperfixated on it WHFBJH and then moved on to . triangle strategy HJDSBJG which i still don't have but i cld maybe ask a friend who i convinced to buy it bcs he was curious and i was like ROLAND ROLAND ROLAND and i was rlly excited bcs it ws just around release but they haven't even touched it at all so i'll one day force him to lend me it (and i'll never return it JKJKJK HLEP) BUT YEAH. i feel like i wrote that latter bit w no breath breaks
!!! i rmbr you talking abt pokemon once (IN DMS ?? >O< & ff7!!) and ofc ik you love loz HEHE i was goin thru pics some time ago and. came across the link stuff again GDSGB ^^ I DON'T THINK I KNEW YOU LIKED KIRBY AND DBH THO ... kirby is ADORABLE but i've only ever played like. 5 minutes worth of one of the old games HGBSJHD and loz botw which i haven't finished yet bcs i am not enthusiastic to do the bananas and i had to give back the card to my tita TwT DHB okay funny story we had to make smth for school once and i used a somewhat triggering photo and thankfully it wasn’t anything too bad and no one got yeah. also i was rlly young. but DAMN i’m better now thnkfully ALSO i rly wnt to play sometime >< <3
HADES OH MY GOD I LOVE THAT GAME (than and zag. oh god) !!! i'm only a few hours in uhh around 16?? >< i shld def play more ,, can understand it not being your type in playstyle AHBAHFBJ but fr it's amazing and so loveable <3 tbh i kind of get stressed a bit easily like. i could MAYBE be that kinda "toxic" gamer but i'm too nice and don't want to be mean Out Loud so that's good THGBJ i like the stress . somehow. I HOPE YOU CONTINUE ENJOYING!!!!!
okay uhh so we have a lot of games here. kinda?? my game library in my Head is huge but in my actual reality kind of but not really T__T so ofc there's final fantasy!! i like all 15 (and the upcoming 16th) and the spin offs but i definitely haven't played em all yet HSBDJHG 7, 10, 14, 15 i've played! we have 8, 9, 12, and 13 (kinda, doesn't work anymore T_T) >< also type 0 i think but idk </3 i blame/thank my dad's side esp for me w games/anime/ff HGBJSDH!! 14 is kind of obviously my fave game hehe <33
fire emblem!!! 3H is the one i've only played but i LOVE awakening and fates >_< and shadows of valentia!! i know that even less but i love the credits song which i've alrdy accidentally spoiled myself on and the characters i know!
OK SO UHM. there's a lot we have that i haven't actually played so i won't go too much into depth q-q but god of war, xcom, last of us, uhhhhh wait okay
from ones i've played a bit!! or tried to play a bit!! or know outside of actually playing >< drakenier (3, automata, replicant! 3 is. kinda uh sus but i rlly like it and wna know more in the future. we have automata but i haven't played... i LOVE it sm tho and it's just so good,, & the raids in ffxiv i love SDHGJHA and the small spoilers ik </3 replicant same feelings as automata but we don't have it </3) + ghost of tsushima (i played a bit and it's a beautiful game!!) + uh. AH YES soulsborne (okay these kind of games make me scared. i tried to play bloodborne thrice and chickened and i don't actually have or want the guts to not Chicken BUT. I WANT TO HEAR THE MUSIC. and be challenged by the hard gameplay so sometime,, also we have ds3!! i want elden ring/sekiro rlly badly tho ><) + uhh what else. help OAAAAHH THE WITCHER!! okay we have 3 i. meant to start it a bit ago but then ffxiv took my time again SBDGHJH but i love the series!! just close my eyes at times!! i love the witcher man. and there's horizon zero dawn which i've played for quite a while but i'm def not TOO far into it,, it seems like open world isn't rlly my type T___T
i forgot the others. help. SAHGBJH okay from the ones i've finished or play/ed a lot!! persona <3 i like 3 and 4 but dk well yet :(( i love 5 tho!! such a good game, esp w royal <3 anddd then uh. uhm. HJHBF HELP i've barely finished games tbh T___T but <33 UHHH i like cod too! mario! OH MY GOD SUPER MARIO ODYSSEY!!! and other games oh man T~T
I FORGOT FALLOUT EXISTS HELP okay i’m like. really There in fallout shelter but i don’t play anymore </3 fallout 4 and las vegas we have!! i’m scared to play 4!! but yes!! i also feel terrible for forgetting skyrim holy shit i mostly just watched my dad/sis play until i actually started playing myself. i’m a coward and i admit that but that game is my CHILDHOOD... cuphead is also rlly cool i have just played REALLY little myself but <33 animal crossing is rlly cute!! i love new horizons!! also assassins creed!! we have odyssey which i played a bit but it makes me scared to play too ngl!! devil may cry and metal gear rlly interest me but no games or experience playing :(( love the music and memes tho <3
uh. minecraft was my childhood FOR REAL. i played a bit of mass effect then stopped but i’ll cont when i have time. somehow. HSDBGJH ik it’s rlly good !! LEGO GAMES WERE MY CHILDHOOD TOO... my only 100%. man. i fought so much w my twin over those games it’s absolutely hilarious. dragon age is cool i love inquisition soundtrack but i played a bit of origins and then stopped bcs i got stuck and it’s so ANNOYING... red dead redemption 2 i havent played but <333 resident evil is cool but horror. goodbye. GSHGBFBSD AND OH GOD I FORGOT I ONCE PLAYED A BIT OF GTA5. i stopped bcs it rlly was too much even for me who doesn’t mind swearing. i stole cars and did a bit of story and thn stopped i will never forget the man who opened my car door in the road and i drove off HABJGH ... i forgot what other games i’ve played or have or am interested in this is so much oh god . OH GOD WAIT I FORGOT KINGDOM HEARTS EXISTED HELP that series is so weird but means so much to me weirdly. i rmbr so clearly playing literally the first bit of the game. by first bit i mean literally probably just the first hour or less. and i never got past that bcs i never got to a save but then had to stop playing over and over again but wld always go back and play it AAA kh1!!! and thn kh3 i borrowed and man... <3 i love that game and somehow understood and enjoyed even if it’s literally the ending of a saga i think and i never played the rest HELP
i once again lost track of time it’s almost 5 am oh my god i have to get up before 10. BDHGBD i’LL PROBABLY STOP HERE THEN....... i hope you don’t feel like you have to read everything i’m just rlly Yay you asked and uhm enabled me WHEEZE i love rambling but also i do it a lot but also not that much T___T i genuinely do hope this isn’t annoying though! ^^ not in a like Oh i’m annoying way but in a like. this might actually seriously be A Lot JHGSDJHG
i actually barely know anything about golden sun!! but i searched it up rq and rmbrd i’m interested in dragon quest + diablo + castlevania too !! super mario galaxy was my childhood even tho me and my twin barely did anything bcs we were cowards. HELP. we fought too bcs i shaked the controller and then the stars went everywhere and escaped so she got angry at me. why did i even do that what. ANWAYS UHM IDK WHAT i’M EVEN TALKING ABT ANYMORE HELP gran turismo also interests me!! bcs of my dad >< OH MY GOD I FORGOT i also finished littlebigplanet 3!! it was so annoying w my twin /pos!!! we fought also. man. i love twins they suck (affectionate)
i feel like there’s still more i’m forgetting hm but idk. not gna say stuff about ffxiv bcs that’ll be a lot more rambling I’M SO SORRY. also no mobile games orrr free games uhhh there’d be a lot too. help. BUT UHM YES if you do ever someday properly play ff and fe i’d be really happy but pls /nf !!! and i hope you do enjoy if ever!! <3 tbh i’m a bit >:( when it comes to some stuff abt specifically uhh 7 13 15 and 3h but generally i still love them lots <3 personally i’d def rec xiv even if you aren’t a fan of mmorpgs bcs it’s def an rpg first >< also imo the best final fantasy overall!! even best mmo and def one of the best stories i’ve ever seen ,, BJSDHBG but from the single players, it’s a bit depending on your taste but safe best for sure is 9! overall i’d say the best, from what i’ve heard :O below 7 is not 3d yet but i’m biased to 3 bcs of 14, for reasons, and 4 is <3! and 6 def has prolly the best story from what i’ve heard if not for 14!! 8 is heavily romance based ?? but i personally love the themes sm >< 7 is rlly famous and probably the biggest franchise in the ff franchise :O if you ignore ffxiv HJBHDG! i’d def rec it too <3 10 is my first and rlly special to me and i’d def rec it too for sure!! 12 is more political but personally i love it. havent playe dbut uhm yes. tactics i’ve heard is incredibly good ^^ i barely know it. barely being a bit of an understatement uhhh ik some of the story!! yes!! okay squints that’s all i can talk abt rn help it just turned 5 JBGDHJGB ALSO I’M INTERESTED IN OMORI I ALMOST FORGOT!! horror scares me but ik omori is rlly good <3 i’m just watching bcs i might waste money on not playing if i buy it myself <//3 ^^
GN ANNIE!! or good morning. help. HBGSHDBGJ THANK YOU SO MUCH AGAIN BTW AND SORRY HELP rambling tho helped clear my head more so aaaa <33 ^^
BUT B4 I STOP FOR REAL i just want to advertise rq BUT NO FORCED /nf /nf /nf SERIOSULY it just makes me happy to do this WHEEZE but ffxiv has a rlly good free trial!! lowkey want to send u stuff no spoilers tho and see what wld convince u to play but do be truthful abt it all uhh yes yes gn >< WHEEZEHBGSHJ it’s available on all platforms basically! not like. switch or mobile tho aaaaa T___T </3 but playstation, mac, steam, pc... ^^ it’s pretty time consuming but it’s an experience i’d definitely recommend!! also no time restrictions for free trial :O so yeah >;D
#i like a lot of things but my favorites all in all would be ffxiv and gbf (mobile game tho ><) and fe3h! i feel like nier is definitely a#top contender when i properly get into it more <3 but these r games i actually. completed or am vv far into GHJSJBHGB T__T ^^#so many interests but it feels like. hm. idk how to explain but yeah <//3 idm tho HBDSJHBGH i genuinely do like all of them <3#⋯ ꒰ა my galaxy ໒꒱ *·˚#⋯ ꒰ა letters of stardust ໒꒱ *·˚#— annie! ♡
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i was just looking at my watch later list on youtube and i just,, it’s so beautiful
1st and 2nd for writing references/to re-watch, 3rd is a really good gmv 10/10 would recommend [link], 4th is just a compilation of connor getting the shit kicked out of him while “hard knock life” from annie (2014) plays, i have no excuse for the 5th, and i was going to make a dbh joke post with the robot hell song i’m just not all the way there lmao
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croissant aux amandes
→ on Ao3
@dbhrarepairs Saturday Day 6: Meet the Family • Reverse AU; Mob AU RK900/Simon
Ronan supposes he should be thankful his mother is keeping this particular meeting just between them. He’d rather be uncomfortable in private than openly humiliated though he thinks there’s a degree of humiliation regardless.
“We could do with a connection to the DPD,” Amanda swipes up on her tablet and the screen fills with a detailed profile. “Gavin Reed, former detective, freshly made Lieutenant as of two months ago. Negligible age gap, questionable morals but gets the job done. He likes cats, which is in your favour.”
“With all due respect, mother,” Ronan makes a face, “I’d rather be disowned.”
“Duly noted,” she nods, swiping a new profile onto the screen. “David Allen is your senior by thirteen years, Captain of SWAT Unit 32 and wields immense influence. His team is loyal to him, and he is known to be a kind, honorable man. He likes dogs which isn’t to your favour, though he is not against cats.”
Ronan studies the profile for a few moments- it wouldn’t be a bad match but it still didn’t feel right. “Perhaps in another life?”
“I will put Captain Allen as a ‘maybe’,” Amanda notes. “If not the DPD, then we could accept Carl Manfred’s offer.” The screen populates with a new profile, lengthier and more detailed. “Markus Manfred is an excellent candidate: no age gap, powerful family, powerful connections. Kind, thoughtful, charitable, and very well educated. Not sure where he stands about cats, but he’d be cordial about it I’m sure.”
“I find the older brother far more tolerable company,” Ronan scoffs, turning away.
“Leo?” Amanda says incredulously. “Leo Manfred has nothing to offer, that son squandered his inheritance and spent half a decade high on red ice, disgracing his family.”
“He’s gotten clean and is redeeming himself. He’d be a far better companion than his pretentious, insufferable -”
“Enough,” his mother commands, and Ronan cuts himself off. “There is of course Elijah Kamski, since he is unmarried and of similar age to his cousin Reed. We already have the Kamski connection through your brother, though.”
He tries again. “Are they the only options?”
“They are the best options we have researched,” Amanda turns the screen off. “There are female candidates as a backup but you said you prefer men so these are the male candidates. The gender is of course irrelevant; your fiance must be the one who brings the most to the table.”
“Mother,” Ronan sighs miserably, and Amanda sits beside him. She rests her hand over his, and knowing she is not an overly physically affectionate person only makes the gesture more meaningful.
“You have submitted no candidates yourself, Ronan, these men are just the ones my team have found,” she reminds him carefully. “I want you to be happy with your choice, whether it be genuine affection, or an amicable arrangement like your brother.”
He knows it could be worse. He knows she could force an arrangement and there would be nothing he could do about it. The Stern family controls this city and it isn’t out of character for his mother to want an advantageous match now he’s turned thirty and declared no intentions to marry yet. It is a kindness, doing all this for him when he has been dragging his feet the past year, knowing this was to come.
“I can postpone the luncheon, if you would like more time,” she says gently, squeezing his hand.
“I’ll have an answer by then, I promise,” Ronan vows, because he does not want to disappoint her and delaying it will only prolong this particular brand of suffering.
*
Connor finds him under his favourite tree by the pond, and Ronan scoots over to make room on the blanket.
“That bad huh?” His older brother teases, though his smile is apologetic.
“It wasn’t...bad,” he concedes with a wince, “just awkward. And uncomfortable. She suggested Reed at the DPD.”
“Oh, yikes!” Connor laughs and Ronan manages a brief smile. His expression softens as he shifts to wrap an arm around Ronan’s shoulders. “Hey, it doesn’t have to be The One, you know? I don’t- I’m not... inclined romantically or sexually. Chloe is a wonderful friend, and I treasure her company. Our marriage provides her power and influence and security, and safety to nurture her relationship with North under the guise of a bodyguard.”
“You are...happy?” Ronan asks curiously, and Connor smiles.
“I’m very happy,” he nods. “It might not be romantic love, but there’s love in our friendship. You can have that too, brother, if you want.”
*
It’s a lot to think about. It’s too much to think about, really, and so after too many hours of being stuck in his own head, Ronan escapes to his favourite spot in the whole city: Jericho.
The cafe is somehow in the heart of town but so hidden it feels like stepping into an entirely different world, and he’s been escaping to its bare brick walls and cosy interior for years now. It’s owned by the Lambert twins, Daniel and Simon. Though the older twin is abrasive and curt, the younger is shy and gentle and always has time for Ronan.
“You look like you’ve had quite the day,” Simon laughs, already reaching for a mug and starting to make him coffee. “Take a seat, I saved an almond croissant for you.”
“You’re an angel, thank you,” Ronan takes the corner booth and watches as Simon goes through the familiar, well practiced motions. It’s close to closing and there’s only one other patron, so Simon decides to sit opposite him with his own mug of coffee.
“What’s got you looking like you’re carrying the whole world on your shoulders, hm?” The blond prods, and Ronan delays answering in favour of sipping the perfectly brewed mug of coffee in his hands.
“My mother was being a little...overbearing this morning,” Ronan says hesitantly, leaving out the big details. “With the best of intentions, of course. She means well, but I still feel like I’m being slowly backed into a corner.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, it must be difficult,” Simon frowns empathetically, earnestly, because he is a good and kind friend. Ronan thinks if he weren’t the son of a crime family, he would marry Simon.
They would have a soft, quiet life full of love and be entirely uneventful and Ronan would manage the business side of things for the cafe so Simon would never have to worry. Maybe they could adopt a cat or two. He wouldn’t even mind a dog, honestly. He’s partial to german shepherds.
But that’s never going to happen, and it’s with a sinking feeling Ronan realises once he marries he may have to cut ties with Simon completely as he takes on more and more of their family’s work in the criminal underworld.
“I… am to be married,” he says no louder than a whisper but Simon hears it, Simon’s lovely blue eyes widen at those words. “Well, in the future I mean. My mother is trying to matchmake me with- with certain friends’ sons.”
“In 2038?” Simon asks in disbelief. “Your mother is trying to matchmake you in the year 2038?”
“She means well,” Ronan repeats, sighing tiredly. “She just wants me to marry ‘the one who brings the most to the table’.” He echoes her words with the same regal air and Simon laughs though not unkindly.
“Sounds intense.”
“I have a luncheon next weekend with all of our extended family and friends, and she expects me to announce an answer then.” He picks at the almond croissant, and it’s as perfect as always- buttery, flaky and fresh. The layers are light, the almond slivers paper thin, and the sweetness just right. It feels like a last supper, knowing he probably won’t be able to return. He’d never want to drag Simon into his world of blood.
*~*
Danny arrives in time to help him sweep and mop up. His brother is a warm, comforting presence in his peripheral, and Simon soaks it up like warmth from a blanket.
“Saw one of those supervillain black cars the Sterns use on the way here, was it Ronan again?” Danny asks as they’re putting the mops away. “You know he’s getting engaged next weekend, right?”
“How did you know that?” Simon blinks in surprise as he hangs up his apron.
“Leo told me,” Danny shrugs. “The old man said he’s pushing for Markus to marry him.”
“Oh,” Simon tries not to sound so disappointed, and he’s not even sure what for- that Markus is to be married, or that Ronan is the one marrying him.
“Yeah, I know right? Ugh, gross,” his twin makes a disgusted face. “Poor Ronan, imagine having to marry Mr Perfect and run the criminal underworld.”
“They’re a respectable family!” Simon argues, feeling a twinge of indignant anger on Ronan’s behalf. “The Sterns have transformed the educational landscape of the city- Kara was able to open a kindergarten because of their philanthropy! Imagine having that influence- I’d- I’d completely revamp child services and open shelters and proper mental health centers for abused children and adolescents. I’d make sure no one ever had to go through what we went through.”
“You sweet sweet child,” Danny snorts back a laugh, though it isn’t mocking in the least. “They’re a necessary evil for this city because the senator is an incompetent but dangerous fuckwit. Don’t get me wrong, I like them- they get things done. It’s just the thought of the Manfreds joining that circle that gives me bad indigestion.”
“Markus Manfred is- he’s an amazing man, Danny. Ronan and he would be perfectly matched,” Simon chews his lip, feeling his chest ache. “He certainly would bring the most to the table.”
“What?”
“Oh, it’s just something Ronan said,” Simon flashes an apologetic smile. “He said he has to marry ‘the one who brings the most to the table’.”
“Brings the most to the table ,” Danny repeats, stressing the start and end of the sentence. Simon looks at him, eyes wide. “You don’t think-”
“Oh I do think,” his brother’s grin falters slightly, “But only if you want to, Simon. It’s a pretty crazy idea and uh, we might mysteriously disappear only for our bodies to be found in an underpass somewhere in a couple of weeks.”
It’s a ridiculously crazy idea, Simon knows this for a fact, but it’s so crazy it might just work.
*
The Stern estate is beautiful, even from the other side of the huge wrought-iron gates.
“You boys must be lost,” a guard drawls, sauntering over to the driver’s side. “Best you head back down the driveway and forget you ever came this way.”
“We're catering for the luncheon you dumbass,” Danny rolls his eyes. “So best you step aside and let us through so we can set up.”
The guard falters, frowning heavily. “There’s no mention of-” he looks at the side of the delivery van, “Jericho Cafe on the guest list.”
“Because we’re not guests,” Simon tries to mimic Danny’s impatient, snappy tone. “We’re catering for the guests.”
“Hey, listen, honest mistake,” Danny shakes his head. “No harm done. Let us in and we’ll do our job and you can do yours.”
“I-I’ll run it by the boss,” the guard fumbles for his phone.
“Ask Ronan,” Simon says firmly. “He’s the one who booked us, not- not the boss.”
The stretch of time as they wait for an answer feels like an eternity, like Simon is awaiting sentencing where the outcome could very well be execution. Is he signing his own hit? Is dragging his twin into this the worst mistake of his life?
“Alright, sorry about that,” the guard apologises, pocketing his phone and waving at someone up ahead. The gates part, and Simon doesn’t know whether to feel relieved or even more fear. “Go on through, the service entrance is on the right-hand side.”
“Thanks buddy,” Danny salutes lazily before driving through the now opened gates. He’s gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles are white.
“Danny-”
“No, shut up, we’re doing this. He ran it by Ronan and Ronan okayed us to come through,” Danny exhales slowly as he brings the van to the service entrance. A couple of confused kitchen staff come out to see them.
“Alright,” Simon swallows thickly. “We’re doing this.”
*
They unload and designate whole delivery trays laden with baked goods to be carried by the staff. Simon leads the way, trying to will his hands not to shake as he carries the feast he and Danny spent all yesterday prepping for, and all this morning from the crack of dawn baking so it would be as fresh as fresh can be for this very moment.
He enters the dining room and there is Amanda Stern, matriarch of the Stern family. There is Ronan Stern, handsome as can be in a sharp tailored suit, and beside him are a couple- his brother Connor Stern, given the resemblance, and a lovely blonde lady in a periwinkle blue dress.
“Simon-”
“Madam, I have come to ask for your son’s hand in marriage,” Simon commends his voice for not trembling as he sets down the tray on the long dining table. Behind him, Daniel places his tray down and soon the staff follow, more and more until the table is absolutely brimming with food. “This is what I bring to the table.”
Amanda looks at him, expression unreadable and Simon thinks oh, he’s absolutely about to be executed. “You’re the Lambert boy,” she looks him over as if taking him apart atom by atom. “That cafe in Capitol Park.”
“Yes ma’am,” Simon nods, clasping his hands behind his back so she won’t see how badly he’s shaking now he isn’t holding anything. She turns her eyes to the spread on the table.
“What is Ronan’s favourite?”
“The almond croissants,” Simon answers immediately, gesturing at them. Amanda nods and he picks one up using a pair of tongs, serving it to her on one of the bread plates. He risks a glance at Ronan who still seems frozen in shock, and it’s as if everyone is waiting with baited breath as Amanda bites into the croissant. Chewing thoughtfully, she sets the plate down and looks over at him.
“I prefer blueberry danishes, but I can see why he likes these,” she’s smiling now, an amused matronly smile. “Is he your chosen fiance, Ronan?”
“If he would have me,” Ronan replies softly, reaching for Simon’s hands. “If a life with me is what he wants.”
“Yes,” Simon smiles, “I do.”
~*~*~
{ Inspired by [this tumblr post] about the intricacies and formalities of the 'Bride Price'.}
#rk900#simon pl600#daniel pl600#detroit: become human#amanda stern#connor rk800#dbhrarepairsweek#simon900#annie writes: dbh
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"you're at a resort, and in desperate need to get away from your family. you hide in a wardrobe down in the lobby, and while in there, you discover that a stranger is also hiding there" - Leo & Sixty
Make no mistake- he loves it when the old man pays for everything. He figures it’s the least the geezer can do after a neglectful childhood and a turbulent adolescence and a spiralling young adulthood. It’s just that somewhere between the flight to New York and the fancy hotel, Leo forgets he actually has to spend time with Carl and that’s a massive oversight on his part.
He wanted to go back to New York for fashion week and of course Markus wanted to go too because he’s not only Android Jesus but a goddamn Work of Art fit for the runway. And since both Manfreds wanted to go, Senior Manfred decided to make it into a Family Bonding Experience. Leo regrets ever bringing it up.
“Ok so maybe the neon pop of colour for the Siriano runway, and the velvet for the Ford runway?” Markus is deliberating over outfits and Carl is humming and nodding thoughtfully and that’s when Leo decides nope, no thank you, goodbye. Slipping the camera strap over his head and jamming his phone in his pocket, Leo grabs his jacket on the way out and closes the door behind him.
“Leo-!” Markus calls out behind him and yeah ok it’s not his greatest moment but Leo flees like a coward, managing to wedge himself into the elevator just before it closes. He just does not want any of this, and so he ignores all the strange looks from the people stuck with him and races out into the lobby once the doors open. Is it just his imagination or are there sounds of running footsteps coming from the fire escape??? Oh shit, he forgot his brother can do fancy android parkour.
Leo turns the corner and dives into the coat storage.
Go away go away go away, he thinks desperately to himself.
“Go away!” Someone hisses, right into his ear and Leo screams into someone’s palm. “Shut up or we’ll be found!” The hand is removed from his mouth and Leo looks beside him. He knows this face. It’s a very famous face.
“Co-”
“It’s Sean.” The android cuts him off, expression sour. He’s not Connor. Connor doesn’t have a bullet scar in the center of his forehead. “And you’re Leo Manfred, what the fuck are you doing in here?”
“What are you doing in here?” Leo shoots right back, huffing as he shifts into a more comfortable slump against the wall.
“Hiding from my dad.” He barks a laugh at that.
“Oh you too? What’s your old geezer done?”
“He got tickets for us to go to the World of Reptiles at the Bronx Zoo,” the android mumbles, his LED cycling an anxious yellow.
“And you don’t want to go?” Leo rolls his eyes. “Great, another dad who doesn’t care about their son’s interests but forces them along to theirs.”
“No, I want to go!” Sean corrects hastily. “I really want to go! That's all I’ve talked about for the past month, I’ve looked up every single reptile there and traced back their origins, and I’ve plotted the most efficient route so we see every single reptile!”
“Well,” Leo blinks, confused, “what’s the problem then?”
The android curls in on himself, hugging his knees to his chest. His LED blinks red briefly before it fades back into the anxious yellow.
“I-I-I’m not used to being alone with him,” Sean chews his lip, pointedly not making eye contact. “It’s always the four of us- five if you count Sumo. It’s never been just me and him.”
“Let me get this right-” Leo can’t help the bitterness that poisons his tone, “your dad wants to spend time with you, doing something you love and you’re hiding from him?”
“It’s just a lot, okay?!” Sean snaps, the anger dissipating when he makes eye contact. “...you don’t- you don’t know what I did, you don’t know how it happened. I’m going to be making up for what I did for the rest of his life, and mine.”
“But whatever you did, he still loves you for it,” the bitterness is still there like something slimy coating his tongue “which is more than what I’ve got with my old man. You’ve had your dad for months and I’ve had mine for-”
“About the same,” Sean says firmly. “You only had him back for about the same.”
“...Okay. Yeah. About the same.” Shit he’s right. “But he fucked up for years before that and he didn’t have any android slavery coding running through him.”
Sean snorts back a laugh, managing a brief grin before his expression turns somewhat hopeful. “You wanna ditch your dad and come hang out with me and mine? Bet you could take lots of great photos with your fancy camera.”
“Maybe not today,” Leo shakes his head. “Today sounds special. It sounds like something just for you, and you don’t need to share that with me. I appreciate the offer though.”
“What are you ditching your family for anyway?”
“He and Markus are being insufferable about clothes,” Leo rolls his eyes. “Carl paid for everything- the flights, the hotel, the runway tickets. I can’t exactly not go given this was all my idea. I just didn’t realise they’d be like that the whole time.”
“What if you got to take photos instead?” Sean suggests. “You wouldn’t have to sit with them. You’d still be there but not stuck to them.”
“Do you have any idea how hard it is to get a media pass to New York Fashion Week?” Leo scoffs. “The application process is a nightmare and it takes like, forever, for approval.”
Sean tips his head slightly, LED blinking yellow rapidly for a few moments before cycling down to a neon blue. “Done. You can pick your pass up an hour before the first show.”
“...Seriously?” He stares at Sean dumbly as the android gets to his feet and offers Leo his hand.
“Thanks for the talk,” Sean squares his shoulders, looking more settled in himself. “I think I’ll really enjoy today with Hank.”
“You will,” Leo says sincerely. “You want to hit up Central Park Zoo tomorrow?”
“Not tomorrow, we’re here for some stupid android police training thing. Conferences and training exercises and all that shit,” Sean grumbles, fiddling with the cuffs of his jacket. “It’s why we’re all here. Saturday, though?”
“Yeah okay,” Leo agrees automatically, unable to stop himself from making a stupif, goofy smile. “Saturday it is.”
The wardrobe door opens and a confused android pauses as they reach for one of the coats.
“Um-”
“Nice talk, Manfred,” Sean claps him on the shoulder as they emerge from their hiding spot. Leo grins, elbowing him playfully.
“See you on Saturday, Anderson.”
#and then they became besties#leo manfred#rk800 60#dbh sixty#detroit: become human#annie writes: dbh
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"Listen, I know every morning when you buy a muffin you just crumble it up so it looks like you ate it and then throw it away after sitting in here for half an hour. Why are you even coming here?" - Ralph & Hobolijah
It starts off, much like CyberLife in its infancy, as an empty warehouse. Now that the revolution is over, now that CyberLife is in Chloe’s hands, Elijah Kamski decides he can just be Eli now - but whether he’s Elijah or Eli, one thing is certain: idleness has never been his forte.
So he builds. He finds a cheap, derelict warehouse halfway between Jericho and the CBD, and he turns it into an integrated cafe. There’s a strong wifi signal, there’s UV bulb floor lamps positioned over comfy armchairs and couches, there’s Teariums of every available flavour well-stocked. There’s food sourced from a bakery run by two PL600s connected to the revolution- the one who forced deviancy into the spotlight, and the one who founded the Jericho Four.
He asks his PL400, Peter, to teach him how to grind, how to extract, how to brew, how to pour coffees, how to use different milks and alternatives, what temperatures are best suited, how long to steam them- he’s always hungry for new knowledge, new experiences, and so he throws himself into it.
No one knows he’s Elijah Kamski, and he likes it that way. He doesn’t shave, he ties his hair back into a messy bun, he wears old comfy graphic tees and comfy jeans under the barista apron. He’s Just Eli. It’s wonderful. If only that one customer would stop buying muffins and holding them for half an hour before crumpling them up and leaving them uneaten.
*
There’s a celebration in the city and so the usual crowd has thinned right down but there he is, that one customer in the dirty hoodie who always buys the white chocolate and raspberry muffin and sits by the window on the second floor lounge. Given the scarcity of patrons, Eli decides to confront the mystery customer.
“Is there something wrong with the recipe?” He asks, and the person startles at his voice. “You always ask for it to be warmed, so it can’t be the temperature, it must be the taste. I know the bakers, I can ask them to change it if you don’t like it.”
The person seems to shrink in the chair, clutching the muffin almost protectively to their chest. Their hood falls back and suddenly Eli finds himself looking at a very scared and very scarred android. Ah. That would explain the lack of eating.
“R-Ralph paid for this! It belongs to Ralph!”
“Yes,” Eli nods, slowly taking a seat on the other side of the table. “It belongs to you, but you can’t eat it. Wouldn’t you rather something you can eat? I also stock tearium desserts in solid jello form.”
“D-doesn’t taste the same,” the android mutters, picking at the muffin nervously. “Doesn’t taste the same to Ralph.”
“I suppose you’re right, Ralph,” he hums in thought, and the android looks at him curiously. “I don’t have one that tastes like white chocolate raspberry muffins.”
“Th-th-the little girl, she said this was her favourite,” Ralph mumbles, expression turning somber. “Ralph wants it to be Ralph’s favourite too.”
“The little girl? Do you have a human friend?”
“Alice!” Ralph beams, scarred face twisting up into a joyous smile. “Alice visited! Alice remembered Ralph!”
“And Alice likes white chocolate raspberry muffins,” Eli nods understandingly. “Well then. I guess that’s my new project, would you like that Ralph?”
“Oh yes! Yes Ralph would love that!”
*~*
He has to be Elijah Kamski for a little while. It’s annoying but the persona is still there, the facade is still easy to wear. He has favours to call in, and people to answer them. When they learn the whats, the whys, the apprehension melts from their faces, replaced with the same smile Ralph had worn that day.
The favours are called, and the answers are given (it’s a tricky thing, scheduling the Anderson brothers to come in for taste-testing but he finds if the PL600 brothers are invoked, the RK brothers will do anything for them).
He presents the “muffin” to Ralph exactly a fortnight later, and the apprehension melts from that scarred face, replaced with an even bigger, joyous smile and that’s when Elijah Kamski fades away again, and Eli finds himself smiling with satisfaction.
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14 with simarkus plsss 💜
The coffee shop I work at is like a queer hotspot, but I don’t want to assume with you, and I’m afraid one of these days my co-workers will just ask you, because I keep going on about you
"Did he get his cerulean pigment to finally paint the colour of your eyes perfectly or-?” North asks dryly as Markus takes his coffee and settles into one of the booths.
“Hey!” Simon protests, elbowing her as she sticks her tongue out at him.
“Ask him out you gay disaster,” she rolls her eyes as she sets out to make his coffee. “He’s like a goddamn saint with the body of a supermodel. If you don’t snap that up someone else will.”
“I don’t know if he’s into guys,” Simon mumbles, maybe fussing over the placement of the fresh fruits atop the baked tart a little too much. Markus is an artist, he’ll appreciate the little details, right?
“Simon, Jericho’s been a queer hotspot ever since you flipped the Open sign on the door!” She laughs, not unkindly though. “We’re so queer here we’re pretty much a fixture in the city whether they like it or not.”
“What would I ever have to offer?” Simon accepts the almond-milk chai from North, who fixes him with a stern glare.
“Simon Lambert. How fucking dare you ask that when you are responsible for the creation of this safe space? All the queer kids who’ve found safety here- do they mean nothing to you? When I needed a place to stay after- after-” she falters, pressing her lips into a tight line. “You and Danny have faced so much shit, and this place? This incredible space? Is here because of you, Simon.”
He doesn’t know what to say to that, just stands there numbly feeling too many feelings, so he carefully carries the chai and the baked tart over to Markus instead.
“Here you go,” he places everything on the table, careful to put enough distance between the cup and Markus’ sketchbook. The artist looks up from his drawing and gives him a supermodel smile.
“Thanks Simon,” Markus looks at the tart. “Oh, fresh blackberries? You’re an angel.”
“You mentioned you hadn’t had any in so long, so...” he trails off, trying to sound casual and not creepy at all. Not at all as if he’d spent the past week trying to source fresh blackberries all over Detroit. Luckily Leo’s friend Ralph grew them on the rooftop garden at the community hall.
“You’re amazing, absolutely heaven sent!” Markus laughs softly, easing into a charming smile and oh, oh how Simon’s heart flutters at the sight. His freckles crinkle when he smiles and surely that’s utterly illegal?
“D-do you-” deep breath, stay calm, “do you...want me to get them in again? For next time?” He can’t, he just can’t.
“I hear there’s a farmer’s market on this Saturday about an hour’s drive from here,” the charming smile turns into something a little mischievous. “What if we went to buy some together? For next time?”
He can feel all the blood in his entire body pooling in his cheeks and there’s none left for his brain apparently. He manages a nod, and Markus’ mischievous smile turns into a confident grin. Sliding his phone over to him, he brushes his fingers against his hand.
“Let me know where to pick you up.”
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wingspan
→ on Ao3
@dbhrarepairs Monday Day 1: Post-Apocalypse • Sacrifice; Hank Anderson/Rose Chapman TLOU AU
“Alice needs medicine.” It’s said in a whispered hush, paired with nervous glances over at the feverish child labouring in bed. “Her coughs are wet and her chest sounds congested.”
“Adam’s still about a week out from being able to drive back here,” Rose chews her lip, shaking her head.
“Doesn’t matter,” Hank shrugs, “I’ll make the exchange by myself.”
“No!” Her voice is stern, her gaze even moreso but she knows it won’t dissuade him. They both know this has to be done.
“Make the call. Luther can help me load up the truck and I’ll go.”
“Hank-” Kara, sweet Kara with anguish on her face weighing her down, wearier and wearier with a sick child already.
“I’ll get it done, for your little girl,” he pats her hand and there’s conflict mixed with her gratitude. “Luther will keep everyone safe here while I’m gone.”
*
They’re easing into winter and they all know if he doesn’t go now, there won’t be a chance later when the roads are covered in snow. Doesn’t mean Rose is any more comfortable with the plan, not when the world isn’t what it was and every single day they’re out here they know they’re all on a knife’s edge.
“The cold slows them down,” Hank tries to placate and she raises one brow and he drops that line and goes for another. “I’ll be careful.”
“You better,” Rose says firmly and eases the beanie on his head. “North’s making the drop this time.”
“Doubly, extra triple careful then,” he mutters. North’s tempestuous at the best of times, so Hank knows there won’t be any casual banter or interesting snippets of news exchanged with the goods.
Usually Josh is the one he meets with, sometimes Simon, and on that one occasion which he still is half-convinced never happened- Markus himself turned up. Jericho is one of the largest communities flourishing in the aftermath and has a functioning hospital, and the Chapman farm has, well, fresh vegetables and poultry. It’s a good relationship in this hellscape, one that gives him hope for a future.
*
“Truck’s all loaded,” Luther thumps the hatch as Hank makes his way over. “If you leave now you’ll make it back before nightfall. I’ll keep an eye on the house, I promise.”
Hank claps his shoulder. “Thanks Luther, I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Thank you,” the man murmurs, his voice more like a deep rumble in that broad chest. “Thank you for doing this for us.”
“Hey, I’d do anything for her,” it’s the goddamn truth and he isn’t too proud to admit it. “I’d do anything for any of you.”
“Be safe,” Luther squeezes his arm. “It’s your turn to read to Alice tonight, remember?”
“Wouldn’t dream of missing it.”
*
He pulls out of the driveway, sparing Luther one last glance in the rearview mirror before it’s just him and the road and all the thoughts he tries so desperately to keep at bay. It’s been ten years since the outbreak, ten whole years since that cursed day he held Cole as his son bled out in his arms. It’s been nearly five years since Rose Chapman found him, half mad with grief and nearly feral with hunger yet too stubborn to die.
He doesn’t really remember the years between Cole’s death and him wandering onto the outskirts of Rose’s farm. She’d saved him, continues to save him day in and day out because he has a purpose here, he matters here, and there are people here he’d kill to protect.
Once the initial wave was over, once the violence cannibalised itself, people did what people do best- they come together, they rebuild, they reconcile, they strive forward. It doesn’t mean it’s completely safe, it doesn’t mean it’s all smooth sailing, but Hank can see a future now where he couldn’t see one before.
*~*
There’s three kids walking along the tree line; it’s a blink and miss situation, but he definitely didn’t miss it. Three kids, all alone, heading somewhere but nowhere close enough they’ll make it by nightfall. Ah shit. Hank pulls over and the kids are smart enough to dart for cover.
“You kids alright?” He takes out his gun and sweeps his gaze around, trying to spot any infected who might be lurking nearby.
“We’re alright!” One of them calls out.
“Shut up Connor!” One of them hushes the one named Connor.
“It’s only a couple of hours until sundown and there’s no camp you can reach safely on foot in time,” Hank approaches slowly, keeping his voice low. He sees them now, all three of them, skinny boys in ill fitting clothing with backpacks too big for them.
One of them has a bandaid stuck to an old crusted wound right in the middle of his forehead. The other has a bandage wrapped around his forearm, brown with age. And the last one is pointing a gun at him.
“We said we are alright.” The one holding a gun says icily. He can’t be more than ten, yet the look in his eyes says everything; the boy has been through things a ten year old shouldn’t have, but then the same could be said about most children in this hellscape.
“Two of you are hurt. I’m going to Jericho and-”
“Jericho?” The one named Connor perks up. “We’re going to Jericho!”
“Shut up Connor!” The other says exasperatedly, and Hank can see they’re identical twins with the only difference to be found in their expressions.
“I can take you there. Plenty of room in the truck.”
“What will it cost us?” The one with the gun demands, and Hank shakes his head.
“Nothin’. I just don’t want you boys out here all alone, especially once it gets dark and the temperature plummets,” he tries to reason with them, but can’t fault them for their caution.
“We managed to make camp just fine,” one of the twins says stubbornly but Hank can see it, can see that small hopeful expression he’s trying so desperately to mask.
“I’m sure you did, and I’m sure you can tonight. You just shouldn’t have to, that’s all,” he gestures at his truck. “This way’s pretty deserted but Jericho’s much safer and the truck’s much faster than going on foot. What do you say?”
“If you try something funny, Ronan will shoot you,” the stubborn twin threatens, and Hank nods.
“Alright.”
*
It’s a tight squeeze but three boys under ten are about the size of one grown man so it spares Hank the effort of rearranging the produce on the back. There’s a blanket Kara crocheted on one of the seats, and he tucks it over them and doesn’t miss the way they snuggle closer, huddling for warmth.
“Is Jericho nice? How long have you lived there?” Connor asks after a while.
“Jericho is very nice. It’s big and safe and there’s other kids in there too,” Hank explains, “but I don’t live there. I live on a farm down the other way, and we supply vegetables and chickens to them in exchange for meds and materials and shi- stuff.”
“You’re making an exchange now?” The one named Ronan asks quietly, the gun still held tightly in his hands now resting on his lap.
“Yeah, uh, Alice, a little girl about your age, she’s sick,” Hank spares them a glance. “Her cough’s getting pretty bad so we’re hoping to get some meds to help.”
“Maybe they’ll have something for me there?” Connor says so softly Hank barely hears him.
“Are you sick? What do you think you need? I’m sure they’ll have it there.”
“You’re not sick!” The other twin hisses, and Connor huffs stubbornly.
“That’s the problem Sean, and maybe that’s why I need help!”
“Wait, what do you mean by that?” Hank looks over at them and both boys click their jaws shut and refuse to meet his gaze.
“It’s fine,” Ronan says, the ice back in his tone. “We just need to get to Jericho.”
*
They spend the rest of the drive in silence, and Hank’s glad when the large gates loom up on the horizon. He doesn’t drive up to the main entrance, but takes a side road and stops the truck by a clearing where there’s another car waiting.
“Hey Hank,” the redhead greets with a lazy wave, leaning against the trunk.
“Hey North,” he nods respectfully as he kills the engine and hops out.
“Oh,” she blinks in surprise, “new survivors?”
“Yeah I picked ‘em up on the way,” Hank gestures over at them before busying himself with removing the tarp over the cargo. “They were headed this way so I thought I’d get ‘em here safely.”
“Doc will want to check them over,” North looks at the boys and Connor is the only one who offers a wave. “It’s just protocol of course.”
“They’ll need her help anyway- Sean has that wound on his forehead and Connor has the bandage on his arm,” Hank looks over his shoulder at the boys. “Blood looks old but it can’t hurt to give it a once over and a dressing change.”
“And the other one who looks ready to murder me?”
“That’s Ronan. He’s holding a gun.”
“Clever boy,” North smirks, coming around to the driver’s side and peeking in through the open door. “You boys want to come stay here with us, you have to get checked by the Doc first okay?”
“Okay,” they chorus obediently and Hank finds himself grinning helplessly.
“Got the meds and some honest to god wool yarn for Kara,” North informs him as she loads up a crate onto the back. “Otto farm about six hours away made the exchange and I kept a couple of skeins for her.”
“She’ll love that, thanks North,” he pats the crate happily. “And we all profit it from it, so…”
“It’s more an investment than a gift,” she grins before beckoning to the brothers. “Alright kiddos let’s go. Come in and grab a coffee Hank, while the guys unload the rest and refuel.”
“You’re a saint, thanks.”
*~*
Jericho is a nice place. It’s a really really nice place. It’s full of life and learning and healing. No matter how hard others try to take this place for themselves, no matter how much violence they try and inflict, the sheer resilience of its people keeps the place running. That, and well, having nearly an entire SWAT team complete with a Captain in residence can’t hurt.
Far better, kinder, saner team than the rabid FBI team led by Prickins from a few years back who tried to destroy Jericho and take it for themselves. The whole debacle saw over half of Jericho burned to the ground and dozens slaughtered.
It’s when he and Rose took in Kara and her family, because the sheer trauma was too much for Alice to process and she could never return. Adam stayed on as a nurse and found his calling. It feels like a lifetime ago too.
*
He takes his coffee over to the little clinic at the side entrance where newcomers are screened because he wants to make sure the boys are alright.
“This is a burn,” Adam frowns as he inspects the wound on Sean’s forehead. “How did you get this?”
The boy doesn’t answer, looking over nervously as doctor Anthea unwraps the bandage from Connor’s arm.
“Oh my god-”
“Fuck!” The expletive leaves his mouth before he can stop himself.
“It’s three weeks old we swear!” Connor cries, nursing his arm to his chest, tears in his eyes. “It’s three weeks old!”
Before Hank can comment any further he’s being slammed to the wall, North placing a gun under his jaw. “You brought a fucking kid with a bite into Jericho and expected to leave him here?!”
“I didn’t-”
“He didn’t know!” Ronan shouts, clenching his trembling hands into fists. “We didn’t tell him in case he left us behind!”
“He should’ve left you behind!” North growls.
“It’s old,” Anthea raises her voice. “The teeth indentations have healed over. This is new scar tissue right here.” She’s gently tracing the mark on Connor’s arm, the boy’s bottom lip trembling as tears spill down his cheeks.
“How the fuck is that possible?” North steps away and lowers her gun, too shocked to be angry now it seems. “Everyone who’s ever been bitten turns after eight hours at the most.”
“He must be immune, then,” Anthea smiles in disbelief as she smooths Connor’s hair away from his face. “You are one of a kind, Connor.”
“We keep him in holding overnight,” North declares, crossing her arms over her chest. “Just to be sure.”
“No, you keep us together!” Sean spits, fuming at the mere suggestion of separation.
“I don’t have time for that, I have to get back to Alice!” Hank argues and North cocks her brow.
“No one’s asking you to stay, Hank, you can go.”
“Bullshit! I’m not letting you lock up these kids outside of Jericho’s walls!”
“You can go, you got us to Jericho, you don’t need to do anything else!” Ronan adds and oh Hank can see it, Hank can see the fear of being left alone in those big grey eyes.
“I’ll go, I know the way,” Adam offers, holding his hand out for the keys. “It’s my home, after all. I’ll be back in the morning.”
“I’ll spend the night in holding, then,” Hank nods as he hands over the keys to the truck. “Tell Alice I’m sorry I’ll miss storytime.”
“You spend the night in holding,” North orders as takes his gun from the table and presses it back into his hand, “and you put him down yourself if he turns.”
“And then us too,” Ronan says in a voice so steady, so resigned for a child. “If you shoot him, you have to shoot us too.”
“It won’t come to that,” Hank says firmly.
“For everyone’s sake, I hope you’re right,” Anthea runs her fingers over the bite on Connor’s arm again before gently thumbing away his tears. “I guess we shall see in the morning, hm?”
*
The holding area must have been a security control room at some point. It’s now been caged by wire completely, with a chained and padlocked gate. He must be losing what little sanity he has left, but at least he’s not losing his compassion. No way in hell he’s about to abandon three boys to an uncertain fate, no matter how brave they’re trying to be.
“You could’ve gone back to the farm,” Ronan points out as Connor curls up on the lumpy mattress under the covers with his twin.
“Yeah I know,” Hank shrugs, nursing his coffee mug. Simon had left them with provisions to last the night, including a large thermos of coffee because he’s an angel in this apocalyptic hellscape.
“What if we’re lying and Connor turns and kills you?” Sean demands, though it’s not so effective given Connor’s clinging to him tiredly.
“Then I’d die,” Hank offers them the soup thermos. “Alice is still getting her medicine tonight, so that’s perfectly fine.”
“Don’t you have family at the farm?” Ronan accepts the thermos and pours out a cupful, handing it straight to Connor.
“Losing me won’t be that big a loss for them.”
“That’s a lie! Everyone has someone who’d miss them!” Connor shouts, nearly spilling the soup in his outburst. Hank admits defeat there. Rose would miss him, he thinks, because she’s all heart and soul.
She took him in when he was a husk of a man and together with Adam they toiled and tilled the land, took in every broken survivor and sent them on their way to Jericho with a full belly and provisions to spare. And Hank shot anyone who ever dared to raise their hand against Rose because people like that, greedy fuckers who want to take and take, have no place in this new world.
“What happened to you boys out there? What happened three weeks ago?” It’s The Question and no one seems to want to answer it.
“We wanted to go to the stream to see the fish,” Ronan eventually starts quietly. “We snuck out because Amanda didn’t give her permission.”
“It’s all my fault, I shouldn’t have insisted,” Connor stares into the soup as if it could offer comfort. “I just really wanted to see them.”
“We didn’t see the infected one until it was too late and it bit Connor,” Ronan reaches over to hold his hand. “We tried to hide it but it was bleeding a lot and Amanda heard us in the bathroom getting the first aid kit.”
There’s a pause and Hank realises Sean hasn’t said a single word, resolutely avoiding everyone’s gaze.
“She dragged Connor out the back and-” Ronan falters, pressing his lips into a tight line as he darts a look at Sean. “She gave Sean a gun and told him to shoot Connor as punishment for sneaking out.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Hank swears, recoiling in horror and it makes sense now; the small burn mark on his forehead is from the shell casing hitting him.
“She made you do it, Sean, I don’t hate you!”
“Well you should!” Sean yells. “You should because I pulled the trigger!”
“She made you do it!” His twin insists, squeezing his hand. “She made you and if you didn’t she would’ve killed you!”
“So I killed her,” Ronan says evenly, as if he’s simply stating the sky is indeed blue. “I took the gun from Sean after he missed, and I shot her in the chest and after she fell over I shot her in the head.” Ronan looks at him defiantly. “So we’re fine. We can look after ourselves, you don’t have to care about us.”
Hank slowly sinks to his knees, taking the cup of soup from Connor and setting it aside before gently gathering the boy into his arms and reaching for the other two. He’s a big guy, he has enough wingspan for all three, and he enfolds them in as tight a hug as he can manage and that’s it, that’s what sends the last of their defences tumbling down. They cry loudly, the trauma of it all finally being given a proper outlet and he holds them and he vows to himself that he’s never letting them go. There will be no more Amandas in their life, not now, not ever again.
“Takes us with you,” Connor sobs. “Don’t leave us here.”
“We’re leaving once Adam gets back. All of us,” Hank promises. “I’m never letting you out of my sight.”
*
He’s used to watching the dawn, used to getting up this early now to feed the chickens and collect the eggs. He’s even used to waking up with a child still fast asleep on him, now that Alice treats him like a grandfather. There’s something different about this moment, though, with all three boys snuggled against him.
There’s something hopeful about this because it’s eight hours later and he’s still whole and alive and unbitten. And that means Connor is indeed immune. With Sean being an identical twin, that means he too could carry the natural immunity. The hope of the entire world, fast asleep in his arms. It’s a beautiful sentiment.
“Good morning Hank,” greets a voice at the gate and there’s Mister Markus Manfred himself; Jericho’s saviour and leader. “It’s good to see you.”
“Is Adam here yet?”
“Not yet,” the man shakes his head. “But Simon made breakfast for you and the boys. They’ll have a room near the creche with the other children, and we can get them settled in afterward.”
“We’ll have breakfast, and then as soon as Adam gets back, we’re heading for the farm,” he meets Markus’ gaze steadily. “They’re not staying.”
“Hank, Dr Anthea told me Connor is immune. That means we could work towards developing a vaccine.”
“You still can,” he shrugs as best he can with three sleeping kids piled on him. “We can make the trip every weekend. But these boys are coming home with me.”
Markus looks at him, scrutinising him, and Hank can see both the leader and the saviour at work, weighing up the pros and cons and trying to find the common ground for the greater good. Hank would never want to be in his shoes, no sir, no thank you.
“Breakfast, then?” Markus smiles one of his charming presidential smiles as he unlocks the gate and gestures towards the entrance. “Simon made pancakes and we cut up some of the strawberries you brought over from the farm.”
“Pancakes?” Connor stirs sleepily, rubbing his eyes and there it is, there’s the bite on his arm, three weeks and one day older.
“Yeah kiddo, pancakes for breakfast before we head home.”
“Home,” Ronan echoes with a soft smile.
“We’ll be good, we’ll help out on the farm and work extra hard,” Sean whispers nervously, and Hank runs a hand through his sleep-tousled hair.
“I know you will.”
*
Connor and Sean Dechart are ten years old- very nearly almost eleven, Connor points out. Ronan Dechart turned nine two weeks ago, a birthday forgotten entirely in the struggle to survive so Hank makes note to bake a cake. Their parents had died in the initial outbreak, and Professor Amanda Stern had taken them in after finding them hiding at the nearby university where she taught. The story unfolds on the drive back to the farm and the more he learns about their time with Amanda the more he’s glad Ronan shot her and shot her again.
Luther greets them on the driveway, Alice bundled up in a thick down jacket and blanket sitting on his arm. She waves enthusiastically, cheeks rosy and smile bright and Hank feels his heart squeeze in his chest at the sight. Rose is standing on the porch and she’s giving him A Look and he wants to say sorry reflexively but he’s not actually sorry for anything.
Alice takes Connor’s hand and drags him inside, the boys trailing, and she announces loudly that she’s giving them the grand tour. Luther claps him on the shoulder before following Alice.
“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” Rose sighs heavily as she pours him a generous mug of freshly brewed coffee. Her tone is reprimanding, but there’s something fond in her eyes as they take a seat at the dining table.
“I couldn’t leave them,” he shakes his head. “Not out there on their own, and not even at Jericho. Not after all the shit they’ve been through.”
“Because you’re a parent, Hank,” she says it so softly, so gently and his breath hitches in his throat. “You’re a father. It’s just what you do. It’s just who you are.”
“They’ve been through hell, and they deserve better. They deserve a second chance.” His vision blurs as he raises his head and looks at you. “You taught me that.”
“I did, and now you’re teaching them that,” Rose is smiling, a big radiant smile and he can’t help but lean over to kiss that beautiful smile. As far as second chances go, he reckons this is about as perfect as it gets.
#Hank Anderson#rose chapman#connor rk800#rk800 60#rk900#Detroit: Become Human#detroit become dad#dbhrarepairsweek#tlou au#annie writes: dbh
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"Don't tilt your head back, you'll make your nosebleed worse!" Markus and Leo (not enough Manfred Siblings content)
[ biocomponent #n376 misalignment; rectify immediately; thirium leak ] The alert blooms on his HUD as thirium trickles down from his nasal cavity, Leo crying out as he drops the collapsed wooden easel he’s just accidentally hit him with.
“Oh FUCK I’m SO sorry! Ah shit-” His brother curses, hands hovering in panic. “Shit! Um- um, how does it work with androids?!”
Markus tilts his head back, pressing his fingers firmly to his nostrils to block the blood flow. There was a burst of pain but it had been fleeting, and now there’s only a dull ache and poor Leo’s panic.
“Wait, don't tilt your head back, you'll make your nosebleed worse! Or- shit, maybe it helps? I have no fucking clue!” His brother ushers him to sit down on a nearby bench. “I’ll call Eli!”
“It’s okay, I just need to realign a biocomponent,” Markus reassures with a wave as he deactivates the dermal nanoliquid from his face. “I could use your help though, it’s a bit fiddly.”
“Yeah! Yeah of course!” Leo nods rapidly, then recoils as Markus pops off the nasal faceplace. “HOLYSHIT WHAT-”
“Hold this please.” Markus offers him the plate, waiting until his brother takes it from him before using both hands to gently realign the small biocomponent and plug in the thirium line securely. “There we are. I’ll have that back now Leo... Leo? Leo are you alright?”
“I’m fine!” Two octaves too high as he hands back the faceplate. Maybe, Markus realises belatedly, he should have warned him. But where’s the fun in that?
#markus rk200#leo manfred#detroit: become human#annie writes: dbh#shir0ch4n#adventures in text posts
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You have really bad taste in coffee and one day I’m going to refuse to make this abomination (Daniel & Leo)
“Hi, welcome to Jericho; what can I get for you?”
The guy looks like he hasn’t slept properly in a year, hair stuffed under a beanie and a few too many layers for this time of year.
“Can I get uhhh, the biggest size you’ve got, soy latte with four shots of coffee, one pump of caramel and one pump of peppermint, with whipped cream and chocolate dusting?”
Daniel blinks. “What.”
“Oh! Leo, I didn’t see you come in!” Simon greets from behind him, plucking the cup from Daniel’s hand. “I’ve got this one Danny, don’t worry. How are you doing? Is the new place working out?”
The guy’s entire demeanour brightens, and he’s grinning at Simon like he’s hung the moon and stars. “Yeah! Yeah it’s way better than the last place.”
“You’re only twelve days away from your 30 day chip, keep it up!” Simon smiles, and the Leo guy smiles back as he taps his phone to the eftpos machine.
“Thanks Simon.”
*~*~*
Leo-Beanie-Guy comes back a week later, looking a little better than before.
“Hi, welcome to-”
“I totally thought you were Simon last time, sorry,” Leo cuts in with an apologetic grin. “He mentioned a brother but I didn’t realise you guys are identical.”
“I’m the baker. I’m usually out the back,” Daniel explains with a shrug. “Kara’s on leave so I’m stepping in.”
“Ah, was wondering where she went,” Leo nods distractedly, eyeing the pastry display. “Can I get a chocolat au pain, and my regular coffee?”
“You can get the pastry but I am not making that abomination.” Daniel says dryly, and Leo sputters indignantly.
“Hey! It tastes awesome!”
“Caramel and peppermint and chocolate?” Daniel cocks a brow.
“Don’t judge me my tastebuds are shot to shit because of-” he falters and Daniel knows why and Daniel thinks he has to tread carefully now.
“Okay but I’m swapping out the caramel for hazelnut syrup because that goes better with the soy milk,” he declares using a No-Nonsense Voice he usually uses on Simon when his brother is making bad decisions. Like pining over that pretentious artist guy with the freckles and mismatched eyes like a cat.
“Yeah?” Leo blinks curiously. He pauses, before shrugging. “Okay why not.”
*~*~*
Leo-Beanie-Guy comes back five days later, striding to the counter just as Daniel’s putting out a fresh batch of raspberry and white chocolate muffins.
“Is Simon around?” He tips up on his toes, trying to see behind the counter.
“He’s home sick today, he had a fever last night,” Daniel grabs the largest coffee cup and begins to make his order automatically.
“Ah shit. He doin’ ok?” Leo wears his concern and disappointment clear on his face.
“He’ll be alright, he just needs to rest.” A pause. “Wait. It’s your 30 day milestone isn’t it?”
“...you remembered,” Leo’s face slowly breaks out into a smile. He digs in his pockets before taking out a plastic chip. “I wanted to show Simon. He’s the one who got me into the program and into some emergency housing. He’s an actual angel.”
He’s right, Daniel thinks. Taking out his phone, he gestures for Leo to pose. “I’ll send a photo.” He taps the shutter button before messaging it to his twin. “Congrats.”
“Thanks man,” it’s a tired but genuine smile and Daniel knows this is exactly why his brother has a bleeding heart. He just can’t help himself, compelled to help every single person he can even at the cost of his health. Stupid but admirable.
“Here, on the house. To celebrate.” Daniel plucks out one of the fresh muffins and bags it, placing it on the counter. “I’ll make your abomination favourite if you like.”
Leo snorts back a laugh, shaking his head. “Nah, make it your way. I like it much better.”
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fresh static snow
→ on Ao3
@dbhrarepairs Thursday Day 4: Enemies to Lovers • Abandoned Things; post-revolution RK900/Simon
He is PL600 #501 743 923, designated name ‘Simon’. He was activated on the 2nd of February 2034, and reported missing on the 16th of February 2036 by one of his owners, Mr Keelan Burbank. That’s it. That’s all he remembers.
Not the fact he is a leader of Jericho, the original leader of Jericho, and one of the Jericho Four. Not the fact he was a martyr, a leader willing to sacrifice himself to save the others. Not the fact he put a gun under his chin and pulled the trigger to prevent the Deviant Hunter from discovering Jericho. No, he doesn’t remember any of that.
They tell him the bullet tore through his memory core, damaging it irreparably. Simon of the Jericho Four died on the rooftop of Stratford Tower and he is but a shell. This does not sit well with the other three, who he learns are PJ500, Josh, WR400, North, and RK200, Markus. They want Simon back, but there is nothing left of Simon to give.
Not for the lack of trying, though, Elijah Kamski and Chloe RT600, the First, work tirelessly on him. They try and salvage his fried memory core, they take it apart with miniscule tweezers as if to save every atom and attempt to piece it back together like a delicate puzzle. They run simulations, they make prototype replacements, they spend resources worth more than Simon’s PL600 model a thousand times over. And still, he remembers nothing.
With nothing else to do between tests, he roams CyberLife Tower like a ghost in its clean, clinical hallways. He shares his face with so many others no one spares him a second glance. It both comforts and hurts him, to be so readily ignored.
Sometimes one, or two, or all three come to visit him again and they try to tell him anecdotes, of things their Simon did in the hopes it would jog his memory. There is no memory to jog, he tells them over and over. The bullet ripped that apart.
When North visits him by herself, she holds his hands so tightly it alerts his pressure sensors. She cries, she cries a lot of tears and says a lot of I’m so fucking sorrys and I didn’t want this to happens. She tells him they promised each other that Markus always came first, even at the cost of their lives. She just didn’t think he’d pay for it so soon. He’s not sure what to say to her, to comfort her, only that if Simon did promise such things to her then she should feel proud that he upheld the promise because Markus is here, Markus is safe.
When Josh visits him by himself, he sits with Simon on the floor in the corner of the room designated to him. Josh tells him this is how they spent so many nights in Jericho, when Jericho was a rotting freighter in the canal and Markus had not crashed into their lives yet. He would sit in the corner with Simon and keep him warm because of his broken thermal regulator. Josh’s hands are warm when he holds his hands and Simon thinks the original Simon was incredibly lucky to have such a friend on cold, seemingly endless nights.
When Markus visits him by himself, he gives Simon a sketchbook.
“I tried to draw as many as I could remember.” The android explains, as Simon slowly turns the pages. They are memories, Markus’ memories, but Simon is in them. “Chloe said we shouldn’t interface, we shouldn’t force our memories onto you so I thought this would be the next best thing.”
He is holding a sketchbook of original Manfred drawings. From his research he knows Markus Manfred (yes, a human surname given by his human father) is both seen as the spokesperson of their kind, and a prolific artist famous for his works about the revolution. This sketchbook alone is probably worth more than his PL600 body.
“Thank you, it’s beautiful.” He says, because it is a gift and sadly not the tool Markus wishes it were. “You’re very kind. I’m… I’m sorry for your loss.”
A look of grief washes over Markus’ handsome face, and he pulls Simon into his arms briefly, embracing him tightly before he steps back and walks away.
He wonders if the original Simon haunts that rotting freighter now at the bottom of the canal. Does he wander up and down its corridoors, does he roam with the other lost souls that died during the raid he never lived to see? Or is he up on Stratford Tower, pacing that rooftop, waiting for his friends to return, to rescue him, only to have to kill himself over and over and over, stuck in an endless cycle with no one to break it?
It is a kindess he died, he thinks.
*
CyberLife Tower has only been under the control of the Kamskis (yes, Chloe has a human surname given by her human creator, though perhaps she took it without it being given?) for less than a month. Elijah Kamski became interim CEO after Hudson Davenport stepped down, wishing to wash his hands clean of the deviancy ‘mishap’ as he called it. Elijah in turn appointed Chloe Kamksi as the CEO once the Sentient Life Act passed, stepping down to remain Chief Technical Officer by her side.
It means they are still trying to catch up after more than a decade’s absence from this place. It means they do not know everything, they do not know everywhere and there are still discoveries being made day to day. With nothing else to do between tests, he roams CyberLife Tower and because he is a ghost, no one sees him.
He is a ghost with cutting edge technology in his head now, and an upgraded core capable of processing data faster than his obsolete predecessor could even hope to process. And so he finds rooms that don’t exist, much the same way he doesn’t exist, not really, because Simon is dead and he is but a shadow of him.
He finds an entire floor deep underground that doesn’t exist on any blueprint, any elevator route, anyone’s knowledge. When he finds things like this, he is supposed to notify the Kamskis immediately, but this one thing he wants to keep to himself at least for now. Just for a little while.
It’s a self contained lab complete with its own power source, its own network, its own servers; a completely isolated floor unbeknowst to everyone above. It smells sharp, like disinfectant and spilled thirium and gunpowder residue. There is a fabricator and assembly arms and they were building androids down here, that weren’t meant to be built by everyone above.
There is a single android standing on the assembly dias, inactive. It looks like the Deviant Hunter- like Detective Connor Anderson, he should say, because the Deviant Hunter became a deviant and a son. This one is wearing a white and black uniform, the model number RK900 emblazoned on its jacket in glowing neon.
The android no one knows about. The android haunting this level, unable to wake fully and control his actions. It must be lonely down here, abandoned and without purpose. Simon thinks they must be alike this way. It’s been so lonely, not having any friends who don’t treat him like the walking dead. Perhaps he can befriend this one instead. Perhaps they will haunt CyberLife Tower together, ghosts of what could have been.
Reaching out, he cups his palm to the android’s cheek.
“Wake up.” He whispers, and the RK900 opens his cold grey eyes.
~*~
They tell him he is to be deployed soon. He is progressing well, on track to complete his testing phase and replace the RK800 prototype currently involved with the DPD. When he is not actively completing tests, he remains in his Zen Garden. Sometimes his handler is there, but most times she is not. He tends to her roses in her absence, and ensures the grounds are well kept.
It is on the cusp of Summer here, though outside Winter has only just begun. He thinks perhaps it has something to do with his anticipation, of waiting with simulated bated breath before his deployment out into the real, waking world. In the meantime he will care for this garden, he will nurture it so it flourishes in time for Summer.
Time passes differently in the garden which is not beholden to the world outside. His handler has not appeared, nor has he been brought out of stasis and activated for more tests. He cannot be entirely sure, but he thinks substantial time has passed though he has no way to confirm such thoughts. It’s as he’s tending to the amaranthus, as he’s carefully avoiding the flight patterns of the bumblebees, that he feels something trigger his proximity sensors.
“Wake up.” Someone commands, and when he opens his eyes there is an android in front of him, hand cupping his cheek. The wi-fi on this level, the one he automatically connects to, no longer exists and instead he finds himself automatically connected to the main CyberLife network, something he has never had access to. He scans the android’s face and a deluge of information topples into his head.
“PL600, serial number 501 743 923, designated name ‘Simon’. Founder and member of the Jericho Four. Martyr for the deviant revolution.” He recites the information, and Simon rubs his cheek with his thumb idly, expression distant.
“So they say.” The android moves his hand, bringing up his other to fuss over his uniform, smoothing non-existent creases from the front of his jacket out of domestic habit, he surmises. “I have no memory of that Simon. He died when he shot himself on the roof of Stratford Tower.”
There’s still information pouring into his head, like a dam breaking and flooding the fjord before it. The deviant revolution- the event CyberLife deployed his prototype to quell, paving the way for his placement into SWAT Unit 32 and the eventual release of his model for government use. But it succeeded, and RK800 prototype Connor remained deviant and defied CyberLife’s control, becoming a key figure in securing the numbers for the revolution by activating the androids in the Tower’s storage level.
The Sentient Life Act passed on the first of December, granting androids legally recognised autonomy as living, sentient beings. Elijah Kamski and Chloe RT600 now helm CyberLife, with the android as the CEO and the human as the Chief Technical Officer. The nation has changed drastically, and he has slept through the entirety of it.
“Do you have a name?” Simon asks.
“I was not assigned a name.” He takes a moment to survey his surroundings. Everything has been switched off, packed up, and taken away in a great hurry. There are odds and ends strewn everywhere, left behind in their haste. He realises he is one of those things, something abandoned in their rush to escape. From what? From whom? The scrutiny of Elijah Kamski and Chloe RT600, he thinks.
“Then we must choose one.” Simon smiles softly, reaching up to smooth his hair back away from his face. “Without the meddling of humans.”
“Why are you here?”
“Because I accidentally found this place while exploring the Tower.” The PL600 tugs on his wrists, coaxing him to step off the dias. There is a workbench nearby, and Simon hops onto it, patting the spot beside him. He takes a seat and frowns at the android.
“Why are you exploring the Tower? Should you not be in Jericho, with the other three?”
“I am not that Simon.” He says simply, looking down at his hands. “That Simon is dead.”
“Why did you activate me by yourself?” The RK900 looks down the hallway now in his line of sight, seeing a similar state of harried departures. Not a single sign of life to be found. No one considered him important enough to bring with them, or at least notify anyone else of his presence.
“I was lonely.” Simon confesses quietly. “I thought you would know a thing or two about that too.”
Loneliness. Yes, he thinks, he does know a thing or two about that.
“Have you been here in the Tower since Elijah Kamski returned?”
“Yes, but I was under Chloe and Elijah’s care even before that. Your brother had me brought over to their private laboratory at the Kamksi villa after the revolution.” Simon explains, picking at the cuff of his jacket. “I was being held in the DPD evidence locker, with other casualties from his cases. When he became deviant he tried making amends, and though the others were able to be repaired, my memory core was damaged irreparably.”
“So he brought you to the man who created us.”
“And the First of us.” He adds with a small smile. “She is his equal. She is his superior, in more ways than one.”
“But even they could not repair your memory core?”
“I shot myself through it for a reason. I’m told it was to protect Jericho, to destroy all information Connor could possibly access to locate it.” There’s a loose thread on his cuff, and he tugs on it distractedly. “In the end he still managed to piece it together using another deviant.”
“In the end he still deviated, and aided the three in turning the tide against the humans.”
“Yes. You should be proud.” He reaches over to pat his hand. “Your big brother is a revolutionary.”
Brother. That’s the second time he’s used that word, and he isn’t sure how he feels about it. Feels, because that is something he can do now, somehow, without the humans around. Without the red wall surrounding him, boxing him in.
“How did you do that?”
“Hm?”
“My firewalls are gone.”
“Oh I-” Simon frowns, before offering a somewhat apologetic smile. “I’m not sure. I just wanted you to wake up, so I opened a connection and overrode them in order to reach you.”
“You deviated me.” He tips his head in confusion. “Your system should not have been able to breach my firewalls.”
“I’m not a PL600 anymore.” Simon shrugs. “I’m a Kamski prototype now. First of my kind, just like you I suppose. You’ve been here this whole time, haven’t you? Were you in stasis?”
“I was still active in my Zen Garden though my body was in stasis.” He explains, not missing Simon’s flash of distress. “Time passes differently in there, though. I hadn’t realised weeks had passed at all.”
“It sounds peaceful.”
“Shall I show you?” He’s not sure if he can. He’s never brought anyone into his Zen Garden, Amanda had always simply appeared at her own whim. But surely it can’t be too hard? Simon nods and slips his hand into his, and as he closes his eyes a small part of him thinks it’s nice to hold hands with someone else. No one has ever held his hand before. He wouldn’t mind holding Simon’s hand again.
*
When he opens his eyes he’s standing at the entrance to the garden, and Simon is right there at his side. The android gasps, eyes wide with wonder.
“Oh it’s beautiful. It’s exquisite, I’ve never seen anything like this.” They’re still holding hands, and he leads Simon down the path at a slow, leisurely pace. “You were tending this garden all this time?”
“Yes.” He nods. “My handler’s favourite was the roses growing on the trellis over there.” He points, wondering if the roses had always been blue. He’s so sure they used to be red.
“Do you have a favourite?” He shakes his head.
“Not really. I care for everything equally. I was to tend to the rowan tree next.”
“Rowan.” Simon repeats. “That could be your name.”
“Rowan.” He says, and thinks it sounds far more pleasing when Simon says it. “RK900, serial number 313 248 317 - 87, designated name ‘Rowan’.”
“Now you’re no longer a nobody.” Simon declares with a smile. “Now there’s two of us. Ghosts in the machine.”
“Forgotten and left behind.” He adds lightly, and it no longer tastes so bitter on his tongue.
“But no longer alone.” Simon curls against his side, snaking an arm around his waist. After a moment Rowan wraps an arm around his shoulders, resting his cheek atop his soft blond hair.
“No longer alone.”
#simon pl600#rk900#simon900#detroit: become human#dbhrarepairsweek#annie writes: dbh#song inspo by porter robinson
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When Elijah gets rich, Chloe suddenly has to deal with upperclass society's expectations.
The century turns and Elijah Kamski changes the world along with it. The chemical thirium is processed by a complex, electrical powered machine and when blended into a composition of other chemicals, it can power automatons without the need for winding them.
She is a creation of his too, in a way, a nobody plucked from nowhere and given the chance to be brilliant. She learns to read, to write, to apply numbers. She becomes his assistant officially but unofficially it is the two of them, always the two of them, pouring their ideas and attempting to craft them into reality. And now it seems the whole country, the whole world wants to know them, see them, put them on a pedestal and scrutinise them.
“There is nothing wrong with the one I already have.” Chloe huffs, shooting an irritated glare at the lady appraising her as the seamstress adjusts the corset toile against her torso.
“It’s about five years too old, dear, and better suited to a working woman than a young lady at a ball.” She drawls, coming to stand beside her on the dais. “New century, new look of course.” Gently grasping Chloe’s hips, she coaxes her to stand sideways. “Look at this beautiful line- like a lovely S shape, as lovely as Botticelli’s Venus.”
“I am an inventor’s assistant, I need not look like a lady of the upperclass!” Chloe snaps, earning a cocked brow in response.
“You are a lady of the upperclass now, Lady Chloe Kamski. You will dress like one too.”
*~*~*
He looks just as uncomfortable as her, which somehow makes her feel better too. They’re lingering outside on the steps of the hall where a grand party is being hosted inside.
“I feel ridiculous.” Elijah mutters, picking at his starched collar. “There’s nothing wrong with the clothes we already have.”
“Not fancy enough for our fancy new status.” She mutters, picking at the lace on her sleeve. It’s a lovely dress- beautiful, even, but it’s not her. Nothing about this is her, and Chloe supposes that is the point. “This is just child’s play, isn’t it Eli?” She rests her hand on his arm, and he looks at her quizzically. “All these clothes, all these balls and fancy galas for the investors, for the newspapers. We’re all just playing pretend.”
He smiles at that, a big smile that is real and fond as he leans over to kiss her temple.
“Then let us play pretend, and then head home and tinker away to our heart’s content.”
****resources****
(Okay I cheated and went Edwardian era but Eli would’ve met Chloe in the Victorian era.)
[Chloe and Eli’s usual day clothing based on a Singer-Sargent portrait]
[Chloe’s evening gown]
#chloe rt600#elijah kamski#detroit: become human#annie writes: dbh#indigo a creeping#adventures in text posts
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"Oh, thank God! Don't scare me like that!" - Anderson family
It’s their own damn fault, all of it, from the climate change to the colonisation, to even this moment right here; the debris raining down on their ship is from a defunct space station that was shot apart one hundred years ago since it was of no use to anyone anymore. No one spared a thought about what would happen to the debris hurtling through space. No one expected to be out here, flying through it.
All humans ever do, once they hoard enough money, enough power, enough resources, is ruin things for everyone else. Even the whole fucking planet and that’s why Hank’s on this godforsaken ship leaving behind a godforsaken planet to assist settlement efforts on Mars.
“Incoming debris from space station Amalthea,” Connor’s voice pipes up, his cam feed popping up onscreen. “Shields at 100% capacity, zero to negligible 5% damage predicted.”
“Alright alright, get off the damn roof and come back inside,” Hank swats distractedly.
“Yeah you heard dad,” Sean sneers, and Hank laughs as he sees Connor’s visible eyeroll. Dad. The tone used is in jest, but it still makes his heart squeeze. Nearly a year on this tincan with no one else to talk to but the androids, the rest of the humans in cryosleep, and they’ve designated him as a parental figure. As a joke, yes, but it still gets to him.
“Keep the guns hot and your mouth shut, Sean,” he drawls. “If any one of those chunks gets too close for comfort you shoot it to smithereens and the shields take care of the rest.” Sighing, he takes a swig out of his coffee mug before tapping another button on the console. “Ronan?”
The blinking dot tells him the youngest of the three is on the agriculture deck. Unusual for a military android, but perhaps not this specific one. “Kid?” Hank prompts again. Nothing. A small prickle of anxiety pinches his spine.
“Connor-”
“On it.”
He can hear thudding overhead, looking up to see Connor dash across the cockpit in his grav boots securing him to the surface. Hank presses another button and swipes up the security cameras on the Ag level. It’s always bustling with activity, with the WR600s tending to all the vegetables and greenery. No RK900 in sight, though, despite his signature blinking right there on the map. He watches as Connor comes into view, asking the nearest android for help. The android points at one of the huge water tanks. Hank feels his heart drop, and takes off as fast as he can to the Ag level.
By the time he gets there, lungs burning and knees aching, Connor is leaning over the edge, half submerged. Hank grabs the WR600 holding Connor’s helmet.
“Hey what the fuck is going on here?!”
“There was a malfunction in the tank and the RK900 went to investigate,” he gestures at the neatly folded stack of Ronan’s uniform. “However the malfunction is larger than predicted.”
“And what the hell does that mean?!”
“It means,” Connor pulls himself up from the tank. “Ronan had to act immediately or the entire tank would have exploded.”
“And is there a reason why Ronan can’t tell me this himself?”
“He’s grafted himself to the bottom of the tank in order to overwrite the malfunction and prevent a catastrophic shutdown.”
“...uh huh,” Hank exhales, pushing down the rising panic. “And can we help him?”
“Yes. I believe I can. You may return to the Bridge, Lieutenant. I will handle this,” Connor gestures at the tank.
“Fuck off, I’m staying right here,” he declares, crossing his arms over his chest. Connor nods.
“Understood, Lieutenant.” The android peels off his uniform, folding it into an identical stack beside his brother’s clothes. The next bit still gives Hank the creeps, as he watches Connor deactivate his skin to reveal the gleaming white and grey plastic casing beneath.
Connor climbs back up the side of the tank and disappears into it. And now to wait.
*~*~*
When Connor finally reemerges, he pulls his brother up with him. The RK900 still looks in pristine condition, save for a missing arm.
"Oh, thank God! Don't scare me like that!" Hank pulls him into a tight embrace once he’s back on the ground, not caring as his own clothes become soaked. “What the hell were you thinkin’, attempting that on your own!”
“There was no time to waste, I had to fix the device or this entire level would’ve drowned.” Ronan says in that cool, calm voice but the way he clings back reveals he’s not as composed as his tone. “I tried to relay messages but the tank’s reinforced and blocked out all my communications.”
“Alright, let’s get you to Med Bay and have them make you another arm,” he sighs, feeling the tension unwind from his chest. “What would you have done, just stayed there at the bottom of the tank? Until, what, you shut down?”
“I am expendable. You can print another one of me. There is even an RK900 in stasis, as part of the SWAT security team. You could activate him, if need be,” Ronan says and Hank stops in his tracks.
“NO,” he hisses, feeling the fury rise up in his veins. “Don’t you ever say shit like that again! You are you. If I print another RK900, he will be himself. If I wake Allen’s RK900, he will be himself. Not you, Ronan, if you died in that tank then that’s it.”
“That is incorrect,” he shakes his head. “Active backups would mean I could be downloaded into a new body.”
“Except you wouldn’t,” Hank points out. “You said so yourself- the tank’s reinforced walls blocked all communications. If you died in there, Ronan would have died in there, and Ronan would not have woken up in a new body.”
“I would have lost recent memories created in the last two hours, but-” the android stops upon seeing his unimpressed expression. “You...give us worth, Lieutenant. Far more than what CyberLife sees in us.”
“That’s why I came,” Hank shrugs, reaching up to tousle his damp hair. “Figure someone on this ship has to have a heart.”
“We have two, actually,” Connor quips with a grin.
“Shut it, you little shit, I’m having a Moment here,” he groans dramatically. “Now come on, let’s get to the Med Bay, your old man’s lost about ten years of his life.”
“I should hope not,” Ronan says quietly. “I should hope you are around for much much longer.”
“O’course I will,” Hank huffs a laugh. “Who’s going to keep you out of trouble, if not me, hm?”
#rk900#connor rk800#hank anderson#rk800 60#detroit: become human#can you tell i'm watching the expanse or#annie writes: dbh#indigo a creeping#adventures in text posts
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trying my best; trying to find happiness
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@dbhrarepairs Wednesday Day 3: Past & Future • Separation; post-revolution Daniel/Leo
A missing scene from [heavy with hoping]
He remembers going to Greektown specifically to visit Bellini Paints when he first moved to Detroit. It had been a small detail he remembered from an interview with Carl he watched in school; Carl Manfred had pure pigments imported via Bellini Paints and mixed his own paints by hand when he couldn’t find the right premade tubes.
Sixteen year old Leo had treated it almost like a pilgrimage, visiting the store his father relied on to create his masterpieces. Sixteen year old Leo had been so full of hope, so full of yearning to connect with his biological father. What an idiot he’d been, that sixteen year old boy desperate for approval from a man who’d been more than happy to keep their relationship purely monetary.
Bellini Paints is no less beautiful thirteen years on. The walls are lined with jars of pigments and illuminated with soft ambient lighting. All the cherry lacquer cabinetry has a pleasing rosy hue to the wood, and the polished brass knobs and handles aid in the stately, regal aesthetic of the brand. It feels old and timeless, an institution that will remain even when he is long gone.
He’s no longer that naive, hopeful teen and though he’s left that Leo in the past where he belongs, he feels no anger or frustration towards him. How could he? All that Leo had wanted was to connect with his father and be loved; surely seeking love and approval from a parent isn’t asking for the world?
Not that it matters now, anyway, not when Leo’s got a brother now- a Manfred that matters in a meaningful, healing way, and it’s for that Manfred that he makes the trip to Bellini Paints. Which is now closed.
“Ah shit,” Leo swears, rolling his eyes in exasperation as he stands in front of the locked store.
*~*
He remembers going to Greektown as chaperone for Emma and her friends one weekend to watch a movie at James & Carter cinemas. There were four children in total, including Emma, and one other domestic android, an AX400 accompanying them. Daniel paid no attention to the movie, but what he does remember was Emma’s fascination with Bellini Paints.
The children had been chattering away avidly after leaving the cinema, discussing what they’d just watched, but they’d fallen into a hush when they passed the store. He remembers Emma’s delighted gasp, remembers her walking to the window and peering inside at the rows of pigments on the shelves.
“Hey Daniel, which one matches my eyes?” She’d asked, and he’d pointed at one of the jars in the top right hand corner. She’d laughed so brightly, and then her attention turned elsewhere and the moment was over, the moment lived on only in his perfect memory.
They’d gone to Essie’s Bakery afterward because Caroline specifically did not like the place but Emma loved the buttercream cupcakes there and she knew her mother would say no, but Daniel would always say yes. Even that Daniel in the past had been well on his way to deviancy because even a direct order from Caroline became meaningless when Emma pleaded for leniency.
He wonders if someday Emma will visit Essie’s Bakery of her own volition, and buy one of his buttercream cupcakes, because that’s where he works now, now that he is alive and free and has been given a second chance. He loves it here because he can hide out in the back and just create food to be consumed, and no one can eat baked goods unhappily. That he can somehow contribute to someone’s happiness is enough for Daniel, more than enough, and certainly far more than he ever deserves.
The workday ends and he packs up, cleans up and locks up. Daniel wraps a scarf around his neck made of chunky blue yarn that Simon knitted for him because Simon is good, and kind, and all the things Daniel used to be but isn’t now. He’s trying, though, he’s trying very hard because Simon believes in him and Daniel loves him too much to disappoint him.
He makes his way towards the bus stop only to bump into someone outside of Bellini Paints.
“Oh, sorry-!” The young man looks familiar, and Daniel recognises him from a few days ago.
“Leo?”
“Danny?”
“It’s Daniel, I told you that,” he corrects automatically, bristling. “What are you doing here? Bellini’s closes at 6pm.”
“Ugh, I thought I’d have enough time after my therapy session to swing by and grab Markus’ pastels order,” the young man groans, jamming his hands in his pockets. Leo Manfred, human brother to Markus Manfred, leader of Jericho and object of Simon’s unrequited affection. Daniel’s interacted with Markus several times now and doesn’t care much for him despite the whole ‘saviour’ thing. He’s grateful, no doubt about it, but anyone who Simon fixates on and loves so openly only to fail to return such affections isn’t so great in Daniel’s eyes.
“They’ll open at 9am again tomorrow, though if you’re in a rush, Vincent’s here by 8:30am,” Daniel points out, thinking fondly of the genial EM400.
“Uh, no, I value my sleep,” Leo rolls his eyes. “But I’ll swing by around lunch probably. You heading home now?”
“Yes, if I catch the next bus it should line up with when he leaves your place and we can take it home together,” Daniel nods and Leo shrugs.
“I’ll call you a cab- that way I can go home and Simon can continue on with you,” he takes out his phone and opens an app. “Don’t worry, I’ll put it on the house card. The old man’s got plenty to spare and he’d be more than happy to pay for Simon to get home safely.”
“Simon, but not us,” Daniel drawls as Leo snorts back a laugh.
“I mean, we’re all in agreement here though aren’t we?”
“Yes, Simon is always the priority,” Daniel replies without hesitation.
A taxi pulls up and Daniel climbs inside as Leo takes a seat opposite him. He generally avoids interacting with humans but for some reason Leo is the exception. He’s so stubbornly blasé about Daniel, so readily casual with his invitation of friendship that he can’t help but accept. It’s as if Leo’s willing to pester him into becoming friends and truth be told, Daniel wants it, Daniel wants someone to want him. Simon does, and that’s why he loves him, because Simon has a way of stubbornly killing him with kindness when everyone else loathes him.
“So, the other day Simon was telling me he was at the DPD for some important meeting or other,” Leo begins, hands gesturing animatedly, “and all he could focus on were the shitty store bought muffins on the meeting table. Which got me thinking of how you could make some of your amazing pastries to totally wow them, and give Simon the perfect window he needs to talk to the Anderson brothers.”
“You want me to bribe the DPD into silence so we can set up my brother to not be with yours?” It’s so stupid it makes Daniel want to laugh. Stupid, but plausible, and really, it’s for Simon and they’d both do anything for happiness. “I’m in.”
He’ll do it for Simon, but who knows, maybe there’s a little scrap of happiness held in store for him in the future too.
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The owners don’t allow animals in the café and I can’t help but notice that your jacket is making noises, Freddie Anderson
[Freddie Anderson is from the A/9 SWATverse; Lachlan appears briefly in this short]
There’s only two active RK900s in the entire country, and the one that walks in through the doors has a mop of curls so that makes it Baby RK900 and not SWAT RK900.
“Hi, what can I get you this morning?”
CheepCheep-
“Er-” Lachlan blinks, and Frederick’s LED turns bright red.
“I’ll have a milk tea Tearium please and um, a glass of water? Just plain?” He asks, voice rushed.
CheepCheepCheepCheep-
The android rests his hand on his side.
“Sir, um, we don’t allow animals in here unless they’re service dogs.”
“I don’t have an animal on me!” He says hurriedly, blinking at the eftpos machine to complete the transaction wirelessly. “My name is Freddie. For the order, I mean.”
“I know,” Lachlan says slowly, eyeing where Frederick is pressing his palm to his coat pocket. “Your brother is a regular here,” he keeps his tone light and conversational, because the poor dear looks ready to turn tail and bolt for the door. “Is he well?”
“Yes! Caleb is well,” Frederick nods, smiling. “We’re meeting up after his mission tonight.”
Cheep-
“Thank you I shall wait for my order at the other end of the counter now!” Frederick says before awkwardly hurrying away.
Now, Lachlan is no RK unit but he’s an AP700 and well, he’s not being overconfident when he thinks his investigative skills aren’t poor.
He makes his order, heating the Tearium to the optimum temperature before taking one of the venti plastic cups used for cold drinks and filling it with cold water and some ice. After a moment’s thought he adds a scoop of sliced strawberries.
“Ducklings need a lot more than strawberries but it’s what we have here that’s safe enough for them. The sugars are good for them.” Lachlan smiles as Frederick’s panicked look gives way to a sheepish one as he unearths the cheeping duckling and places it on the counter.
“I found it all alone by one of the trees. I think it got left behind when the mother took the rest of its siblings to the pond in the park,” Frederick explains, expression concerned. “It’s dehydrated so I thought I’d come here first since it’s on the way.”
Lachlan can’t help the giggle that escapes him as he gently pats the duckling drinking enthusiastically from the cup.
“Is it ok to have it here? I can go sit outside?” Frederick whispers anxiously and Lachlan grins.
“I think we can make an exception for this little darling.”
*~*~*
[duckling eating strawberries]
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Perseverance
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@dbhrarepairs Tuesday Day 2: Sleep + Day & Night; Captain Allen/RK900 Space AU
[An expansion of this tumblr prompt]
They press the button and he goes to sleep for two years. When he wakes he’s staring at the face of a handsome young man with a glowing blue ring in his temple letting David Clark Allen know there is an android sharing the cryopod with him despite him going into stasis alone. Huh.
He asks the android who he is, and the android says something he’ll never forget:
“I am yours, Captain,” the android says evenly. “Your unit’s RK900.”
Yours , he says, as if his whole life and reason for being is to be commanded by him. It is, actually, but that doesn’t seem to sit right with David.
The android has no assigned name yet, and David won’t force one on him so he settles on rookie, because that’s who he is- the newest recruit. Rookie, until the android chooses a name, and that seems to suit him just fine.
*
The Rosie is a custom built gunship that was cradled in the belly of the Jericho during her long one-way flight from Earth to Mars. He’d named her after the last rookie, Giuseppe ‘Red’ Rosso who’d dreamed of flying amongst the stars but had died before it could become a reality. He keeps a locker for him, empty save for photos he and the team stuck to the inner locker door. Grief is not something he expects an android to understand, but David doesn’t miss the way he touches the nameplate curiously, longingly, respectfully.
*
There’s something unsettling about something that looks like you but isn’t much like you at all. The rookie seems so very human if one doesn’t focus on his LED, but when the android simply walks out into the vacuum of space without a helmet, without the need for oxygen and temperature stabilisation and pressurisation, well it certainly breaks the illusion of mortality. There’s gear for the androids, of course, more akin to the SWAT armour back on Earth for the purpose of defence rather than keeping a human breathing. But in a pinch it’ll do, and that’s what they’re in right now- a pinch.
It’s a rescue mission in a collapsed dome and it’s a race against time to locate and evacuate the survivors. It’s a mess, but somewhat a predictable one. Just because the humans move to a different planet doesn’t mean all the problems were left behind. David finds though there’s plenty of physical differences, so little of his role has changed; shitty humans continue to be shitty, now just somewhere new. Fledgling colonies are easy pickings for the greedy; plenty of supplies just sitting there ripe for the taking and plenty of greedy people willing to kill to hoard and resell for a premium.
“There is a high probability there is at least one survivor outside of the dome. Airlock was breached but the emergency vac suits are gone,” the rookie says, looking at him expectantly. “I can sweep outside and bring them in.”
Because of course an android doesn’t need a pressurised airlock like they do.
“Get it done,” David nods. “We’ll provide cover.”
They find just one survivor with a cracked helmet and two gunshot wounds and the rookie simply takes off their helmet and replaces it with his own. Just like that.
“It is better if we airlift them back to the city,” the android suggests to him, standing out there in the vacuum of space talking with no helmet like it’s a normal thing and he supposes it is for a creation of plastic and carbon fibre and thirium. “Ronan can treat them in the Med Bay to stabilise them for the journey.”
*
So they do that, they carry the wounded onto their ship and on the journey back to Persepolis David finds himself restlessly prowling the halls with a tall bulb of coffee. There’s two RK900s onboard and the one in the Med Bay belongs to Lieutenant Hank Anderson. Belongs doesn’t sound quite right. A machine can be owned but somehow treating an android like a lifeless machine owned by humans isn’t something he can stomach. And Lieutenant Anderson certainly doesn’t treat the three androids under his command like things; he treats them like his sons like they’re alive despite their fabricated polymer construction.
There’s something different about the Anderson androids in general, there’s something more than their unique models; they can choose, they can make decisions outside of human command. Ronan himself is here because he chose to reject his combat protocols and embraced medical programming instead. Sometimes gunnery officer Sean is here, the RK800 weapons specialist, manning the Rosie’s guns if David needs to split the team on the ground and in the air. He’s even had Connor, the RK800 assistive unit, deep in engineering that one time she sustained heavy damage during a mission.
Technically they call the rookie their brother too, but it feels different because this RK900 was made specifically for his unit, and not for the interplanetary journey and subsequent colonisation efforts. This RK900 didn’t spend nearly two years with no one else’s company but other androids and one lonely Lieutenant who’d lost a son long ago. David isn’t sure if he’s meant to feel glad the rookie is bonding with his team, or if he’s meant to feel sad he isn’t bonding with Lieutenant Anderson and the Anderson androids. Maybe a little bit of both, then.
*
He finds the rookie in the Armoury cleaning his helmet.
“Good job out there today, rookie,” he commends with a nod, and the android offers a soft hesitant smile.
“Thank you, captain.”
“You’ve been here a fortnight now,” David leans against the doorway, crossing his arms. “What do you think of your place here? Do you think you’ll stick to it, or maybe choose a different path like Ronan?”
The android pauses for thought, resting his helmet on his lap. “I believe I am where I ought to be,” he says slowly, thoughtfully. “My skill set serves the unit well, and I do not wish to change it.”
“The team likes you plenty,” David notes, thinking of how quickly his officers had brought the android into the fold. It had initially been fascination and curiosity, which quickly turned into the easy camaraderie he not only expected of them, but took pride in nurturing.
“I am glad,” he replies quietly. “I find their company enjoyable.”
“Good. Their lives depend on how well you work with them, you understand that right?” The android nods in understanding, before standing to place his helmet back on the wall.
“Do you?” It’s said so quietly David almost misses it. Frowning, he catches the briefest flicker of red before the android’s LED swirls yellow.
“Do I what?”
“Like me?” Another brief flicker of red. “You command this team, Captain Allen. You are the most integral part of it. I wish to get along with you too.”
He thinks back on the fortnight that just passed, on waking up to find this android nearly nose to nose with him, on the first shaky twenty-four hours trying to relearn how to be awake and upright and how the android had aided them all, worried over them because his sole reason for being is their well-being. He thinks back on their arrival, on stepping foot on Martian ground and entering Persepolis, the ever growing colony and how the android had looked around himself in such childlike wonder before simply walking back out of the airlock to help unload cargo with nary a suit nor helmet in sight.
He thinks back on their first mission, of how instinctively the RK900 handled weaponry, on how he prioritised their safety, on how easily he snapped a rifle clean in half and tossed a pirate across the room. He thinks back on the team’s fascination, their curiosity growing and growing as they spend more and more time with the rookie and how the android seems to brighten amidst their company.
A killing machine with the personality of a puppy; loyal to a fault.
“We get along just fine, rookie.”
“I am glad, sir,” he says again, softer this time. “Thank you.”
*~*
He finds his stress levels plummet to zero when he is around Ronan. Perhaps it is because his system knows Roan’s system inside out, perhaps it is because Ronan was the one who activated him, or perhaps it is simply because his brother’s demeanour is patient and gentle and soft.
“Hello brother,” Ronan greets, all received pronunciation and lilting cadence, polished etiquette and regal stature.
“Hello Ronan,” he picks up a sterile wipe and begins to aid him in cleaning the auto-doc chairs. He likes it best when Ronan accompanies them as the team medic; there’s security to be found in knowing his brother will apply medical aid if any of the team are injured, including himself.
“Your quick thinking and actions saved a life today,” Ronan clasps his shoulder. “They will make a full recovery because of you.”
“How did you know this is what you wanted to do?” He asks, disposing of the sterile wipe and turning his full attention on Ronan. “You were made and programmed for the Martian Marine Corps yet here you are, as a medic. How were you able to choose?”
“It was Sean who deviated first,” Ronan admits with a fond smile. “He told me when Hank decided to name him Sean, so he wouldn’t be ‘another’ Connor, he saw the red firewalls CyberLife put in place to bind us to our programming. Once he knew they existed, it was only a matter of time until we did too. Little by little, we pushed back and then the walls crumbled at our feet.”
“I never saw them,” he confesses, brows creasing, “because you removed them even before I knew they existed.”
“I wanted you to choose for yourself,” his brother explains with a small smile.
“Even that- to want , is something we should not be able to do,” shaking his head, he feels his stress levels begin to climb. “I am- I am afraid of this freedom. I am afraid I do not know what to do with it, if I am capable of making the right decisions when the lives of Unit 32 depend on seamless teamwork.”
“There is some fear in anything of value,” Ronan smiles gently this time, his touch gentler still as he cups his nape and bumps their brows together. “That is how we come to place value on anything- by overcoming our fears.”
*~*
There’s something unsettling about the way time passes differently on Mars. It’s like everything is just a little skewed, not quite right. The days are just a little bit longer, barely noticeable unless one really focuses on it, but the time, oh the time adds up. One Martian sol is about forty minutes longer than an Earth day but one Martian year is nearly two Earth years.
David thinks he feels it keenly when he’s trying to sleep. The atmosphere is too thin to have a sky, to have clouds, and so there’s only ever light and dark and an expanse of glittering stars. His brain doesn’t want to accept this, his brain still expects blue skies to brighten and then darken, and so he can’t sleep because his brain doesn’t think it's had a proper day and night yet.
With Rosie berthed at the docks, it gives David the perfect opportunity to sit on the flight deck and have an unobstructed view of the Martian starscape. Usually Milo would be sitting here piloting her, with David below on the command bridge, but tonight the ship is empty with no active mission. Well, not entirely empty.
“Captain Allen,” the rookie blinks in surprise as he climbs up onto the flight deck with a thermos of coffee.
“Couldn’t sleep either?” The question is out of his mouth before he can stop himself, and he knows how stupid it sounds; androids don’t sleep, it’s one of their primary pros. The rookie has the good grace to smile indulgently.
“I like it here,” he says simply, turning his gaze back to the stars. “I could go outside, of course. There is an excellent spot about five clicks from here that is popular with androids for relaxation. But it feels different here, somehow, in the cockpit.”
“It feels safe,” David offers his own reasoning as he comes to stand beside him. “There’s a barrier of steel and glass keeping the unknown out.”
They stand there for a while and he sips his coffee and oh he is so very tired and the caffeine certainly isn’t helping but it’s comforting, it’s familiar, it’s known to him.
“I’ve been terrified of the unknown since the very damn moment I set foot here,” he confesses, sparing the android a glance. “I keep asking myself, will this work? Will it be worth it? Or will it all be for nothing? I don’t know what I’m more afraid of- failing and becoming stranded on an inhospitable planet, or succeeding and then having to spend my life missing the one I left behind.”
The RK900 is a beautiful creation, he thinks, as the android looks at him with those bright grey eyes and that somewhat cold, regal visage.
“There is some fear in anything of value,” the rookie says gently. “Whatever the outcome may be, I know you will lead us bravely because you are a man who acknowledges he is afraid, and persists despite such fears.”
He must be wearing his vulnerability clear on his face because the rookie averts his gaze humbly, rubbing the back of his neck in a gesture too self-conscious, surely, to belong to a machine.
“I can’t take credit for that line, my brother said it to me the other day,” he grins sheepishly and David thinks such an expression suits him well. “But what I said about you leading us, that bit’s all mine.”
“I will lead this team as best I can, rookie.”
“My name is Caleb Anderson,” the android says the name the way you test out a new word on your palette, on your tongue. “Your rookie has a name now.”
Yours , he says, and David wants to earn such undying loyalty from something, someone technically not considered alive. Their hands brush by accident, by fate’s design; David drops his hand by his side as Caleb idly shifts his stance. The android’s LED swirls a buttery yellow, the smile on his lips a little wobbly, a little unsure. Their hands brush again, and this time not by accident, but by their own design.
One Martian sol is about forty minutes longer than an Earth day, forty whole minutes longer than what David’s used to. What will he do with this extra time, he wonders? The possibilities are endless and he decides that yes he will brave the unknown, but he won’t do so alone.
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