The Storm Between Us (Reed900)

i forgot about the book again it is april 7 oh no

"Usually, within an adult job being held by adult people with adult personalities, there should not be any displays of such childish- God, childish gossip!" Fowler snapped.

Hank Anderson was sitting in one chair, his hands in his lap and eyes not looking directly at Fowler. He was relaxed, used to this same old same old lecture. Connor stood beside Hank's chair, hands behind his back and ready for whatever order he was given.

Gavin Reed was slumped in his seat, a trash can by his feet in case he threw up again. His eyes were half open and glassy, his mouth in a permanent, miserable frown, and his shoulders were constantly tense and straight. Conan stood next to Gavin's chair, his arms behind his back and posture straight. He couldn't focus on Fowler much since he kept checking Gavin's vitals.

It was just a stomach flu, nothing Gavin couldn't survive from, but Conan still worried. He probably contracted something from the disgusting crime scene or the unwashed coffee pot in the break room. Whatever he had gotten the sickness from, it hit him hard.

"I understand that you may be sick, but that is no excuse to cause such a distraction in the precinct!" Fowler snapped, "Reed, go home and don't get any of my other workers sick! Conan, go with him to make sure he doesn't kill himself. Hank, Connor, get back to work for Pete's sake!"

Connor nodded and led the way back into the precinct. Conan carefully led Gavin to his desk so he could collect his things. Gavin picked up an empty styrofoam coffee cup and held it close to his chest. Conan sighed and took the cup away. He got all of Gavin's stuff together in a brief case and went outside with the sick detective.

Gavin whined, "I'm fine and I don't need any stupid medicine so don't-"

"Shut up." Conan ordered, already fed up with his order to take care of Gavin. The idiot was already stubborn when he wasn't sick off his ass and needed cough syrup.

Gavin reluctantly got in the passenger seat and leaned it back so he could rest. Conan asked, "Do you feel any dizziness, detective? Any nausea?" Gavin didn't reply, and Conan didn't bother asking again. The poor detective looked pale, sweaty, and miserable. (Even more than usual). Luckily, a large part of Conan's coding was dedicated to medical training just in case something were to happen on the job.

Gavin mumbled, "Aching, dry throat, cramping, dizziness, nausea." Conan made a mental note about the symptoms. Gavin hugged himself tightly and continued, "Also, my head feels heavy. My eyelids wanna close a lot, like there's weights on 'em."

"You mean you're tired?" Conan asked with some sass. When Gavin didn't reply, Conan frowned and apologized.

Gavin snickered a bit. "You feel sorry?"

Conan didn't reply. He didn't feel. He's an android. But, instead of reminding Gavin that obvious fact, he simply stayed silent and listened to the rain. Gavin didn't say anything either. The two were silent the rest of the car ride to Gavin's apartment. Gavin must have fallen asleep because Conan had to say his name a few times when they reached their destination.

He looks peaceful for once. Conan looked around the parking garage. He got out and went around to Gavin's side. I'm not his android, Conan had to remind himself as he picked up Gavin Reed and his brief case and carried him inside the apartment building. 

I guess he isn't that bad, Conan thought, When he's asleep and unable to open his fat mouth that is. He carried Gavin into the apartment and laid him on the couch. Then he grabbed the nearest blanket and tucked him in. Conan went to the bathroom and got a washcloth soaked in cold water. He came back into the living room and put it against Gavin's forehead. 

Gavin stirred a bit in his sleep. He opened one eyes enough to see Conan. "Hey," Conan whispered, "Are you fully awake?" Gavin nodded, definitely not fully awake. Conan asked, "Would you like some ginger ale?"

"Why on Earth would I drink ginger ale?"

"The carbonation from the drink settles in your stomach and helps alleviate any nausea. However the sugar in ginger ale can cause serious health issues if-" Conan stopped. He sighed and explained simply, "The bubbles make the sicky go bye bye." Gavin nodded and closed his eyes, curling up under the blanket. So Conan went to the kitchen and made a glass of ginger ale for Gavin.

Gavin watched from his spot on the couch. Every move Conan made seemed to be calculated. It was robotic, like every time he moved his right arm it never moved differently from the previous time he moved it. There was a specific input that Conan always followed. His hair looks soft. Gavin shook his head a little at the thought. Android. Machine. Not a partner. Not a coworker.

"Gavin, are you still awake?" Conan asked as he came into the living room. Gavin nodded and sat up a bit so he could drink his ginger ale. Conan handed him the glass.

Gavin scoffed. "A bendy straw?" He asked, "Seriously?"

Conan explained, "You have to take it in small sips. It's better to do that with a straw." Gavin rolled his eyes and took little sips through the bendy straw. Conan relaxed in the chair next to Gavin and watched the rain outside.

"You just gonna sit there all day?" Gavin mumbled, lying back down and setting the ginger ale aside. Conan didn't reply and Gavin fell asleep through the silence.