Detroit Become Human x Readers

Accidents (Connor x Reader)

Now that Connor thought about it, maybe asking Hank for advice for advice on making friends was a bad idea. In fact, now he thought about it, asking the least personable person in the station -minus Gavin of course- was, in fact, a very bad idea.

Connor saw that now that you were yelling at him, hand over your afflicted shoulder, that this was definitely, a very bad idea.

“What the fuck, Connor?!” You shouted, taking a step back from him as he winced and put up his hands defensively. ‘Just punch them on the shoulder’ Hank said. ‘It’ll be nice and casual’ Hank said.

Hank forgot to mention, of course, the level of force one is supposed to use in a friendly punch. Apparently, full force was not the way to go. Watching the way your lip curled made his stomach drop. Why- Why was he never able to get this right?

“I was- I was attempting friendly human banter-” He begins as you jaw sets and you throw out your arm incredulously.

“So you punched me?! How did you think that wasn’t gonna happen?!” You screeched, and Connor found himself regretful that he had decided to do this in the rather public setting of the breakroom. Fellow police officers and detectives alike were taking one look at the scene, cringing and quickly making their exit. He really had done it this time.

“Hank said I should try to be more friendly, so-” He’s swiftly interrupted again as your eyebrows raise, a humourless laugh leaving your lips.

“So Hank told you to punch me and you fucking listened?” You say with a coughing laugh, running a hand through your hair out of stress. Connor cringes and reaches his hand out, but you’re already walking away.

“I’m just- I can’t. I cannot. We- Fuck. Fucking Christ.” Your swearing gets more and more distant as you walk away, drawing the attention of every person at every desk you pass. From over near the coffee station, Hank scoffs.

“You really fucked that one up, huh kid?” Connor fights the urge to punch Hank on the shoulder too.

You spend the rest of the day avoiding Connor, and Connor spends his time like a kicked puppy. He pouts whenever you’d avert your gaze from him during his attempts to catch your eye and mopes around the station when you dart out of the room to avoid his apologies. He worries that he’s permanently ruined his friendship with you. He hurt you. Maybe it wasn’t on purpose but he had still done so, and the shame of that had gone from settling in his stomach to dragging his entire body into sluggish remorse. By the end of the day, he’s a pile of synthetic depression, with one last plan to earn your forgiveness.

As you make a trip back from the bathroom, Connor corners you, slipping out in front of you with his hands raised, speaking before you can react.

“Give me just a minute.” He says pleadingly as you open your mouth, thinking for a moment before shutting it again and sighing.

“Fine.” You grumbled, crossing your arms as Connors’ hands duck into his pocket, pulling out an ice-pack. He’s happy to be rid of it, honestly. It’s been defrosting in his pocket a good 20 minutes now.

“I just wanted to give you this and apologize.” He extends the pack over to you, and you let it press into your hands, narrowing your eyes as you take it. He tries his best to sound sincere, but with his nerves this frayed, he reverts to the stilted language he was programmed with.

“I was attempting to engage in positive conversation with you, but I should have thought before taking Hanks advice. The- The last thing I wanted to do was hurt you-” He swallows as he pauses, watching you tentatively press the ice pack to your bruised shoulder.

“I want to spend more time with you, but I’m not so sure how to go about it- I thought Hank could help but then it didn’t and now I’m worried that I may have permanently damaged our friendship which isn’t what I want and I-” Like something clicks inside him, he’s suddenly rambling. Whirring into overdrive, he begins to let his thoughts fall into freely into the open air. It’s frightening that he’s being this open, but it’s also… nice. It’s not often that he’s spoken his mind like this.

“And I’m sorry.” He mumbles the end, eyes turning downwards to avoid your likely angry gaze. You sigh again, but this one holds no anger. Tentatively he looks up, meeting your tired, but un-enraged eyes. You give him a half smile, shrugging a best you can while still pressing the ice to your shoulder.

“I accept your apology, Connor. Next time just- just talk to me. I’d much prefer that to whatever… y’know.” You wave your hand and Connor nods, unable to keep the beaming smile off his face.

“Alright, well. Thanks for ambushing me as I came out of the bathroom. And… thanks for the apology.” You pat his shoulder, and Connor feels like this is a victory of sorts. You smiled at him, and he was able to settle any disagreements. With a bright smile, he waves as you begin to walk away, back into the bullpen.

“Have a good day, detective!” He says with a voice far more confident than how it was before. You turn your head and give him a wave back.

“You too! Don’t punch anyone else, please!” You say with the slightest smirk which he quickly returns.

“No promises!” He responds as you give one small laugh and turn the corner, leaving him alone with a blue blush and a beaming smile. His hands settle behind his back.

Now.

Time to go… talk to Hank.