Comfort Zone (Connor x Reader)

Fifty-Four

(I wanted a chapter dedicated to these two. ♡♡♡)

While over half a dozen desks at the precinct were used for messier purposes, Gavin Reed was inexplicably sitting beside an android who was getting angrier than he himself was at the television. Groaning, he shook his head, flinching when the taller male burst out, "Your entire job is to catch improper game play and make the call to penalize the players! THAT WAS VERY CLEARLY OFFSIDES YOU BLIND BAG OF MEAT!!"

Really, watching the prototype was more entertaining than the actual hockey game he'd recorded. "Man, I'd hate to be a fan of whatever team you're against, Shark."

"Detective Reed, you already are." Cloud had chucked his white jacket over a chair in the dining room, and had gone so far as to unbutton his high collar. His crystal eyes were glued to the screen; it would have been easy to just look up all of the information, but that removed the fun of watching. You'd had to teach the RK900 how to live in the moment; it had taken a lot of work, but it had paid off. "If you are not a fan of my team you are the opposition. I am trying to be courteous and not degrade your side."

Scoffing, Reed reached and shoved the android on the shoulder gently, enough to grab his attention. "Please, go right ahead. I'm dying to know what kind of shit my glorified espresso machine yells at the opposing team."

[... your...?]

He was eyeing him, and the human caught it right away. "What? The fuck's your problem?"

"So you've chosen death, Detective," the android replied, diverting the topic away from the probable tongue slip. The human was in no position to be teased like that, anyways.

"Death? Fuck you." A few minutes were spent watching the match-up, both males completely engrossed and incredibly vocal about minor transgressions. But Gavin smirked, pumping his fist in the air as Detroit scored again. He didn't normally express anything but his anger at the game, but having someone else watching, rooting for the opposition... well, shit, why not rub it in his fucking perfect face? "Well, Shark, looks like your suckers need to call it. Ahead by two goals, buddy."

The rage in those blue skies was fucking terrifying. "We are halfway through the second period. There is plenty of time left, so I recommend you remove any notion that I am about to roll on my back and accept defeat, Detective Reed."

"Gavin."

The RK900 blinked, rage dissipating. "Beg pardon?"

There was a slight frown on his scruffy face. "Gavin. Don't call me Detective Reed, okay? I get it, it's my name, whatever. But..." Gavin paused, eyes cast aside. "Took years for the precinct to call me Gavin and not just fuckin' Reed. Now they do, and..." He shook his head. "Whatever."

"Forgive me," Cloud replied. "Gavin it is. I did not realize your preferences, and I will respect them."

Silence before a soft, "... thanks."

"You may thank me later, when Detroit is swiftly destroyed," the Shark added, winking at the human's instant annoyance.

"You have no right talking shit until your team actually accomplishes something, fuckstick," Reed spat back. He was annoyed, but he was also grinning. It was the friendly rivalry that seemed to get his blood pumping.

"I can assure you, they will. Starting with defeating your precious Detroit Dead Wings," Cloud snapped back, smirking. "... shall we make a wager?"

Eyebrow raised, Reed sat up straighter on the sofa. "Wager? What, you wanna protect your ass when Buffalo loses?"

"Over my deactivated husk." Leaning close, the RK900 went on. "If my team wins, I am granted a favor from you. If Detroit wins, you get one from me. Do we have an accord?" he asked, holding out a hand.