Detroit Become Human x Readers

Parched (Connor x Reader) {Thirst Pt 2}

The moment Connor got a call from you he knew something was wrong.

On his way out from the office at the reasonable time of 1:36 am, he was already on course to head back to Hanks. Since his deviancy, it was getting harder for him to concentrate so fully on work. Things that had never distracted him before had him enraptured. He found himself on long trains of thought at times, forgetting things. Just earlier today he'd run into the station after forgetting a report. He'd never understood true embarrassment till that moment. Untidy and ruffled, shuffling desperately through papers with an audience. An audience made up of you and your friend.

You likely thought him unprofessional, and completely inappropriate. He could still feel your gaze on him as you stared, likely tearing apart his appearance in your mind. The back of his neck heated up as he pulled his beanie down further, hoping that the cold air would cool down his servos.

He hadn't even made it a block down from the station when his phone went off. He had no use for such a device, but you'd insisted on having the old technology as some sort of 'friendship bracelet'-esque gift, which only he and you could communicate with. It was impossible for him to resist the chance to have something special just between the two of you.

Unsurprisingly it was your face that flashed along the screen. Cropped out from a 'selfie' you'd taken with him. Your interest in retro 2010's culture confused him, but so long as you were happy he couldn't complain. Speaking of happy, that was likely the least descriptive word one could use to describe how warm the sight of you was.

It was just a photo, a screen, but the mere sight of you muddled his mind. You were bright. You were smiling. You were ethereal.

You were calling him at 1 am.

6 hours after going out for drinks.

Answering his phone so fast he nearly dropped it, a sense of unease seeped into Connor's artificial skin, chilling him more than the bitter wind ever could. Were you in trouble? Lost, maybe? You'd never had a good tolerance for drinks, and had a knack for getting yourself into trouble.
"Heyyy, Connor..."You spoke two words into his ear, and that was all he needed to know you were drunk. Badly drunk. Slurring your words and giggling drunk.

"Detective." He's not quite sure what to follow that up with, so he pauses, listening to the distinct sound of laughter, chatter and music. So you were still at the bar then? Outside it, at least.

"Y/N! Connor," You drawled. "You can call me- No! My phone!" You began to whine before going into a not-so-strict lecture, ending with the loud, shuffling sound of a phone passing hands.

"Connor?" He recognizes the sound of your friend's voice. The one who had been with you during his travesty of an appearance. There's a flush of thirium that rises to his neck and ears an alarming amount, and he has to blink a few times to rid the error messages popping up in front of his eyes.

"Yes. This is Connor. Is Y/N alright?" The sound of shuffling and shushing followed as your friend responded quickly.

"They're okay, but they're not sober." He hears your distant shout, followed by some tired grumbling. Yes. He could tell that much.

"Listen, I know we don't know each other but can I ask a favour?" Connor pauses for a second. On one hand, he did not know this person. On the other, this could rectify the unfortunate situation of their introduction. And, maybe put him in her good books, and by extension, yours.

"What do you need?" He asks, leaning casually against a street lamp. They can't see him, sure, but it makes him feel more confident.

"I have to go pick up my kid from a sleepover. Some teenage bullshit." She explains, and Connor waits for her to continue.