A collection of oneshots and drabbles based on the wonderful game Detroit: Become Human
-----
Requests are almost always open! Check the 'Welcome' chapter if you'd ever like to double check, as I will be saying if the requests are open or closed th...
"Ah, fuck," you curse, and lightly smack the side of the coffee machine, "Stupid piece of crap..." your words are followed by a heavy sigh as you once again glance over the error message presented on the screen reading Out of Order. Contact Maintenance. Tossing your clean, empty paper cup in the trash can, you spin on your heel, and, with a grimace, make your way back to your desk. Yet another shitty thing on top of the ever-growing pile of shitty things that have happened that day. First your alarm doesn't go off, and then you blow a tire on the way to work, get scolded by your Captain for being late, step on a thumb tack, and now the fucking coffee machine was broken. Even worse, the cherry of turmoil atop your annoying little sundae, was that Gavin had the day off and wasn't there to cheer you up like he always miraculously did. You grumble to yourself as you drop back into your seat, resting your chin on your hand and moving to log into your terminal. Tap tap tap, you clack away at the keys as you input your login information- your brows furrow, a sprinkle of anger dropping onto that ever-growing sundae as it says your information is incorrect. Using both hands this time, you retype your information- wrong. Again, wrong, again, wrong.
"What the hell?" you hiss, your knee beginning to bounce. This time, you deliberately tap every single key slowly, saying the letter or number aloud as you do so- wrong. You're about to let your head fall to the desk in defeat when you notice a glowing little light in the top right of your keyboard. A dry chuckle rips from your throat, the sound in no way amused, as you spot the fact that CAPS lock was activated. You turn it off with a click, type in your password, and the screen opens up to the database. Today was going to be a long day, you could already tell.
-----
A long day had been entirely correct. It was all little tiny things- every time you thought you were going to be able to get into a good working groove something came along to drag you from your focus, a rowdy criminal, Hank fighting with Fowler, someone shouting across the bullpen for some maintenance to come and fix that damn coffee machine- you wouldn't be complaining about that last one if the maintenance had actually been on duty today, but it was a Saturday and they were busy elsewhere. You so desperately wanted the pick-me-up, and were about to ditch to head to a coffee shop during your lunch break when, just your luck, Fowler had dropped some extra paperwork on your desk. Hungry, tired, overstimulated- those were the three words you would use to currently describe yourself, and the end of the day couldn't have come fast enough. You threw your things into your pockets, not even bothering to log out of your database and leaving that for the night shift worker, and stomped off to the front door without passing a glance at anyone. You push out the front door, prepping yourself for the 30 minute walk home, and stop dead in your tracks as splatters of rain drop from the sky, wetting your clothing instantaneously. Of course it was raining.
