bakerstreet | Officially unofficial unofficially official...officially

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[meme] shipping

Officially unofficial unofficially official...officially

unofficially official;

Dating...isn't what you'd consider the two of you doing. You're just close. Close enough to spend time together, do things you both enjoy, eat together, talk about problems, cuddle, and kiss, possibly. And you don't do most of these things with other people.

Okay.

Okay, so maybe you are dating. But do you need to disclose this fact to everyone else, or at least acknowledge it amongst yourselves -

If you even realize it, that is. It's possible this whole "a couple" status has snuck up on you. Theoretically, at least.

...how did that happen?

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[ crosscanon, au and assumed cr welcome! ]

It wasn't such a strange thing for Connor not to show up at the DPD before noon, but people still needed him and he wasn't answering his phone. People started to wonder and votes went up for someone to go check on him. Somehow this sort of thing always ended up being RK900. It probably had something to do with him being the newest android at the station.

And that was how he showed up outside Connor's door, knocking and ringing his doorbell insistently. It was a mission, and he wouldn't give up. Though he had also brought a fresh cup of coffee to go. He knew humans were in a better mood when you pushed one of these under their noses, it was all tactics.

Usually Connor is better than this. Usually he's at work by now, on his third coffee, or working through his first huge can of energy drink, while plowing through files. Usually, he answers his phone after the first few attempts to reach him.

There's a shout and a quick, excited bark, a thump and finally the locks on the door release, revealing a half-dressed detective squinting through glasses crammed haphazardly onto his face. A scan would immediately reveal alcohol on his breath and still in his bloodstream, a result of one of many self-destructive benders.

"Nines?" He scrubs at one eye and refocuses, frowning deeply up at the android. He only dimly registers that there's a cup of coffee being held out to him. He takes it cautiously and stands back to let the RK in, where he would be promptly greeted by Connor's huge, poofy samoyed.

Edited 2018-10-13 20:21 (UTC)

"Hello, Muffin." RK900 greets. Tell the android one time to stop calling you sir, and this is what you get, a lifetime of alternative nicknames. "You live." He states, it's almost as if he looks disappointed. Well perhaps because he kind of is. "I was expecting a homicide scene. It would have made today more interesting." He registers the alcohol, which is more in line of what he really was expecting. Oh Connor.

He actually likes dogs, so once inside he reaches out to pet the samoyed, his hand completely disappears in all of the fur. "Good to see you looking better than your owner today."

Connor's given up trying to get 900 to call him by his name. After all, they share the name just like they share a face, though they're looking considerably less identical today given Connor's lack of shaving and considerable bags under his eyes.

The dog woofs excitedly and sniffs around the android's face, licking under his chin.

"He's always gonna look better than me. He's a good boy. Aren't you bud?" He smiles and ruffles a hand through his dog's fur just behind his ears.

Rk's not the most social of androids, so he pays little attention to the way a human looks, apart from noting they look worse than usual.

The licking's too much though, not in front of other people! It makes him look weak. So he's trying to get the dog to go down again.

"They thought something was wrong with you at the station, so they sent me out here as the search party." He explains. "Why are you hungover on a work day?" Direct as always.

He doesn't know why RK's not just caving to the excited greetings by his dog. Nobody can resist them, and Connor knows better than most that his android counterpart isn't as stoic as he likes to make himself seem. So he'll just smirk as the dog steps back, tapping on the floor with his front paws until it looks like the android's attention is on his owner again, cuing him to spring right back to affectionate sniffs and licks.

"Why do people get hung over, Nines?" Connor rolls his eyes as he turns to go and clean up a little better, if only to ignore the android getting too judgy.

"Because they have no self control when it comes to alcohol, naturally." RK900 gives the dog a better greeting when Connor's back is turned, giving him a scratch behind his ears and everything.

"You could always grow the beard out and don't bother with your appearance ever, then people won't notice you're hungover since it's your usual look." He suggests.

"Very good," Connor replies, just a little bit patronizing, though it's probably lost on his audience here. He's tired and kind of irritable and his stomach has been doing flips since he woke up. He'd already thrown up the majority of his stomach contents, and has been wandering around sucking water from a bottle until he felt more up to human interaction.

He's still not sure he actually wants to leave his apartment.

"Dude, my beard barely grows. At that point I'd look permanently hung-over. Not the best first impression."