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You watch Connor adjust his tie for what seems like the millionth time. His hands wrap around the fabric and pull it tighter around his neck. He seems to do it without even realizing it, now. The simple action draws you out of your thoughts every time it happens. He was a big distraction when you actually needed to work.

Connor stands up from his desk chair after a few minutes; his hands immediately coming up to tighten the tie, again. You stand up from your own work space, your feet begin following him before you even realize it.

“Where are you going?” You question with a smile on your face. Connor stands beside a hand print key. He lowers his hand when he sees you talking to him.

“I’m going to analyze some evidence for this case. I could use your help if you’d be willing to assist me.” He states, his voice a straight tone.

You nod, happy to spend more time with the android. He raises his hand again, pressing it against the scanner. You watch the skin of his hand turn white as it reads it. The two of you walk to the basement where the evidence is kept.

You watch as Connor starts bringing his hands up to fix his tie before he gets started. Your annoyance gets the best of you from watching him do it, again and again. You turn your body to face him, grabbing his hand to stop him. His brows are furrowed, his face fills with confusion. You grab the tie in your hands, adjusting it and pulling it tighter. You avoid his gaze, afraid you’ve overstepped as you back away from his body.

Connor, meanwhile, is clearly confused. The small touch traveled everywhere along his body when you touched his hand. He’s never been so close to you before and he’s sure he wants it to happen again, even if he doesn’t know why. He analyzes you before he decides to speak. Higher body temperature, avoiding eye contact, fumbling fingers, you’re nervous. “Thank you, detective.”

You almost want to laugh, but just nod your head instead. You hurriedly press your hand against the evidence screen, ready to forget about your weird behavior.

It wasn’t long before something like that happens again. Both Connor and you were at a crime scene, Hank is somewhere talking to the witness. You were in the living room, squatted down with Connor, reviewing the evidence that was scattered over the floor.

“The struggle began in the bedroom and seemed to have led into the living room.” Connor concludes. The both of you stand up in unison, ready to go and tell Hank about the findings.

Connor became more aware of his tie habit after you fixed it for him the first time, but he still did it more than necessary. You watch as he adjusts and tightens the tie. Except this time, it was crooked. You tried to hold yourself back, but the off centered tie would drive you insane, especially when everything else about him seemed so in order.

Connor was about to step forward before you stop him with a hand to his chest. He senses the heat radiating off your hand. He has the same confused look as the first time.

“It’s crooked.” You tell him and his face seems to relax as he watches you fix his tie for him. You do what you did the first time, adjust and tighten. He takes note of how long your fingers seem to linger, how you smooth over the tie after you’re done. This time, though, you don’t seem as nervous. You stare him straight in the eyes after you are done.

You watch his eyes jump across your face, his lips in a small smile. Your eyes roam his face, stopping at the small part of his hair that hung over his face. It seems to be lower than usual. Your hand reaches up tentatively, pushing the piece of his hair back. It was soft, almost silky, you want to keep touching it.

Connor has a sudden urge to move closer to you, but he keeps his feet planted. He watches for your reactions, instead.

“Sorry.” You mumble, a small sigh falls from your lips. Your eyes are still glued to his.

“Detective-” He starts, wanting to ask about these sudden interactions, wanting to explain his sudden feelings, wanting to ask for help on how to react, what they mean, but Hank appears in the doorway of the living room.

“Aren’t you two assholes supposed to be working?!” He barks, but he’s looking at the two of you with a curiosity and almost understanding. He’s not blind to the way Connor’s been staring at you, studying you, asking about you.

You jump away from Connor, almost stumbling over your feet from the sheer loudness of Hank’s voice.

Connor doesn’t seem startled at all, just nodding in Hank’s direction. “We’ve assessed the area, lieutenant. We’ve determined that the struggle started in the bedroom and led into the living room…” Connor rambles off the rest of the findings. You’re still standing there, dumbfounded, your cheeks ablaze. 

Hank rolls his eyes. “Good work, can we get going? I’m starving, how about you, Y/N?” He questions, turning around and walking back out the door.

You clear your throat. “Yeah, yeah, me too.” Your heart is still beating 10 times faster and you’re wondering if Connor can pick up on something like that.

“Ready, detective?” Connor questions, he’s calm, like nothing happened, but he can’t explain the new found feelings that have recently sprouted up inside of him.