Criminal Analysis {Connor x Reader}

Chapter 13

A/N: TW- spiking of a drink

If there's one thing you didn't like doing, it was waiting.

It'd been nearly six hours since Connor left the precinct, and you were starting to get nervous.

You'd barely taken your shoes off when Gavin was texting you and telling you to turn on the TV. Turns out, Hank's distraction did little to throw Perkins off the scent of Jericho, and they found it almost at the same time as Connor.

You were basically glued to the TV as you waited for any update from Connor. You scanned the screen, searching for anything that could indicate he was alive.

Hank made sure to check up on you, and you made him promise to tell you if heard anything from your favorite android detective. You watched the multitudes of androids being escorted out of the burning freighter. You could barely make anything out through the smoky haze.

By three in the morning, your eyes began to droop and nervousness morphed into alarm.

You hadn't even realized you dozed off until you woke with a start, wiping the drool off your cheek and quickly flipping on the morning news. A national curfew had been set and all androids had to be turned in to be sent to death camps. It made you sick.

You spent the rest of the day going from watching the news, to dozing off, and then hastily checking your phone. Rinse and repeat.

That night, you attempt to get some semblance of a normal amount of sleep instead of the power naps you'd taken throughout the day. Sitting in front of the TV won't do anything but make you more anxious, you scold yourself as you try to convince yourself to sleep. You resist the urge to grab your phone and endlessly refresh your news feed. Eventually, sleep overtakes your restless mind.

The day passed with you going through the same motions: check your phone, watch the news, pace the apartment, repeat.

The clock struck eight, and you're on your seventh round of watching the news go over the various restrictions that had been placed. Your eyes were beginning to glaze over, and your hope for the situation had started to dwindle. You still hadn't heard from Connor, and your fear was starting to get the best of you.

A knock rang out from your front door, and you stiffen, remote clutched tightly in one hand. It only takes you a second before you're scrambling to reach the door, thankful you found the energy to get dressed today.

You whipped open the front door, and there he was.

Connor was wearing a beanie covering his LED and a brown leather jacket over a gray sweatshirt. Casual clothes were a good look on him.

"You're okay," you breathed, taking in his new look and reaching for his shoulders. You pulled him into a hug, and he eagerly enveloped you in his arms. You just needed to touch him, make sure he was actually here with you.

"Let's talk inside," he gently urged into the crook of your neck. You obliged, letting him push you back into your apartment, and kick the door closed behind him.

You released your hold on him and took a step back. Connor hovered near the entrance, and you began talking rapidly about everything that'd happened since he left the precinct. You emphasized how worried you'd been, and demanded to know everything that'd happened.

He cut off your rambling by moving to rest his hands on your hips, and bring you closer to him, "Doctor, I- I need to tell you something."

His tone was worrying, and you furrowed your brows slightly.

He avoided your graze, fingers tapping an unknown melody on your hip bone. "I'm," he paused, only for a moment, "I'm a deviant."

A sigh of relief escaped your lips, "God, Connor, don't scare me like that. I know, it's okay." You move your hands up to cup his face, gently rubbing your thumb over his cheek.