METAL GUARD DOG ⊳ connor x reader

Ch. XX

He still didn't know what exactly he had done to deserve this. This sense of homeliness, right in the middle of this hostile environment the Detroit he used to know had morphed into.

Xylo cuddled against him, little fluffy head set on the top of his left thigh, and (y/n) preparing some Mac'n Cheese for one only a few meters away. The deviant had never been particularly interested in food, yet at that moment, couldn't deny that it did smell rather enticing. Aside from the fact that watching (y/n) pacing around the kitchen, mumbling things, sometimes even humming some soft, playful tunes to herself was already rather entertaining by itself.

Connor hadn't even noticed when exactly she stopped doing it until she plopped down next to him, plastic plate in one hand, spoon in the other. (Y/n)'s lips curved into a fragile, lopsided smile as she scooted onto the bed further.

"I've been thinking." She began, then scooped up some of the food and stuffed it into her mouth.

"About what?" Connor asked as he absentmindedly ran a hand over Xylo's head, who let his ears down and closed his eyes peacefully. His fur was so soft and pleasant to touch, Connor noticed.

Since when had he started feeling, physically? Being able to smell? Had it happened the moment he turned into a deviant, and had he just been too caught up in the whole situation to notice?

Maybe it had been Cyberlife at fault. If they could resume control of him, they must've been able to have control over his physical receptors too, correct? But then again, why would he have been equipped with physical receptors?

And what would it feel like to touch human skin? To feel every little pore, imperfection and scar? The warmth, the naturalness of it. Would it feel different compared to his own, or was he a perfect copy? What would it feel like to run his hands over (y/n)? A tingle ran over his palms as he remembered what cupping her face had been like. Real. Raw.

The deviant let a sigh of defeat slip.

"Multiple things, I guess. For one, I was wondering...if you can smell things? Taste them? I know you don't need food, but I couldn't help but think about it. While I was cooking." She shrugged nonchalantly.

"I've never ingested any food, if that answers your question." Connor spoke, still focused on Xylo, moving his hand to scratch the back of the dog's neck. "However it appears that I am able to sense smells."

" 'It appears'? You mean...you don't know for sure?"

"It's...rather difficult to explain. As a machine, you don't...you don't exactly pick up on some aspects. All that matters is the mission. The rest is background noise. Sensations, feelings, other people—they're not even there." The deviant's brows furrowed as he stopped petting Xylo and began fidgeting with his hands. "So I cannot— I don't know if I'm filling in the gaps, or if I'm actually feeling things."

"Hm." (Y/n) played around with the mac on her plate, moving them to form a circle in the middle of it as she thought. "What do you sense right now?"

"I-" Connor stuttered out, performing a motion that would've resulted in the cracking of his knuckles if he were a human, yet was completely soundless in his case. "I don't know what I'm supposed to say to that."

"Just name whatever's going through your head." She broke the perfect circle of macaroni she had created and ate another bit.

"Confused. I feel confused, I think. And... at the same time, sheltered...? Safe? Is that possible? Wouldn't those two emotions cancel themselves out?" He rambled, then stopped to look at his hands.

"Not necessarily." (Y/n) chewed on her bottom lip as she seemed to be thinking. "Why do you feel confused?"

He took quite some time to answer.

"I...have a few questions." He finally stuttered out, and kneaded his hands.

"Shoot." (Y/n) smiled before adding with a smile and a glint in her eye: "Not literally, though."

Connor let a lopsided smirk slip as well. He did appreciate the fact that she was trying to lighten the mood. "Why didn't you want to take the drugs? I—" He sucked in a sharp breath, realizing the sentence hadn't left the impression he wanted it to. "I mean— I'm not— I'm just curious about your motives."

"It's because I've seen it." (Y/n) answered and didn't look up from her plate. "How it eats away at you. How you deny that it does, how you tell yourself that whatever you're going through is normal. How it swallows up your personality, your quirks, and leaves you with an empty slate of...nothing. Once you start, you're fucked. And I know better than that."

"Oh." Was the only answer Connor could muster. An analysis wasn't even necessary for him to be able to tell that there must've been some rather...scarring event in her past to shape such strong opinions. "I see."

(Y/n) hummed and stood up, walking back into the improvised kitchen, where she threw away the plastic plate and washed the fork.

"Do you have anything in mind for tomorrow?" Connor's social programs rushed to make up a sentence that could fill in the gap of silence. He seemed to have succeeded.

(Y/n) took a few seconds to think about it, then turned around as she was drying off the cutlery with a tissue. "I'll have to go out in town and sell some more. But um... tomorrow's... Thursday, right? Or is it Friday?"

"Thursday."

"Okay, good." (Y/n) leaned against the sink and traced her thumb over her lower lip as she thought. Connor suddenly felt synthsaliva gathering in his mouth, and swallowed it down. "I'm going to another club, Chicken Hawks, tomorrow. It's usually full on Thursdays, and I sell out pretty quickly. And...you're free to tag along, if you feel like it."

Connor smiled sincerely. "I'd very much like to."