#allenappreciation

[archadianskies]

Captain Allen Appreciation Week Day 3: Coffee

→ part of A/9 on Ao3

They know his name is David and his usual order is a venti triple shot long black with a pump of caramel. That’s it, that’s all they officially know about him. 

Physically they know he has olive green eyes, a Clark Kent jawline and though he has dark hair when he’s sporting a little weekend scruff there’s some salt and pepper going on. If he’s got time to stay and read, he sports a pair of reading glasses. 

His manners are impeccable, he knows all their names and always has a dashing smile for them. It’s no surprise everyone’s a little bit in love with David.

“You’ve been here a month now, and you’ve served him what, at least ten times?”

“Oh she wishes she’d served him-”

“Shut up!” 

“What do you think he does for a living?” Her manager prompts, arms crossed over his chest as he nods in David’s direction, the man walking across their line of sight outside before turning the corner.

“College professor?” She hazards a guess. “He seems like a guy who teaches Humanities. Or Literature.”

“I think he’s a personal trainer. You haven’t been here that long but in the summer? You’re going to see him come in a shirt and honey are you in for a treat.” Her colleague snorts back a laugh.

“Lachlan thinks he’s either an author or a journalist.” Her manager adds, before shrugging. “I think he’s a CIA agent. He gives off those ‘harmless but not actually harmless’ vibes. Plus he pays great attention to detail; remembers all our names, remembers even the most boring tidbits we mention.”

“He could just be really nice!” She protests. 

“Or both. I’d love for it to be both.” 

*~*

It’s a beautiful day in late Spring, with the sun out and the breeze finally lacking Winter’s chill. She sees David walk by the window and she can’t help but smooth her apron and thank her luck she’s the one closest to the registers. Pivoting briefly to hand her colleague a spare tea towel, she turns back to find him in front of her.

“Hi David.” 

“Good morning Kelly.” He smiles and she feels her heart leap into her throat. Oh god. Weekend scruff. Reading glasses in the breast-pocket of his button down. “I’ll have the usual, please.”

“Of course sir.” She rings up the amount and plucks up a venti cup, scribbling down the side before reaching over to pass it down the line.

“Will you be a good girl for daddy?” His tone is stern, his voice an octave lower. Heat pools in her cheeks.

“Uh-um- yes?” She squeaks, absolutely certain she’s bright red. When she turns back he’s holding a puppy in his arms. Oh god. Is there an option for employee termination to be literal?

“This is Rosie.” David announces with a proud grin. 

“O-oh! Oh!” She gasps, reaching across to let the pup sniff her fingers before mussing between her ears fondly. “German Shepherd?”

“Yes, ten weeks old.” He crinkles his nose as Rosie licks his chin, laughing softly and holding her a little lower so she can’t reach. “My baby girl.”

“She’s adorable!” Her cheeks hurt from smiling, and is there anything hotter than a hot guy with a cute puppy? She’s yet to discover otherwise. He taps his phone to the terminal before heading to the other end of the counter to wait for his coffee, blissfully unaware a good portion of the cafe is making desperate heart eyes at him. 

A shame she’s not an android like Lachlan and can’t record this memory and replay it over and over whenever she wants. That’s alright. She looks over and Lachlan winks at her discreetly. He’ll send her the file later, surely. It’s what good co-workers do, right? 

“Here you go David, and a little something for Rosie too.” The android smiles, offering a small espresso cup with lactose-free milk foam. 

“Look baby girl, something for you too.” David gasps as Rosie wriggles excitedly in his arms. “Thanks Lachlan.”

“Not at all, sir. This is actually a bribe.” Lachlan grins, laughing in delight as Rosie sticks her nose into the small cup. “In the hopes little Rosie accompanies you often.”

“Oh you don’t need to bribe me for that to happen.” David laughs, kissing the top of the pup’s head as she licks her mouth clumsily to try and clean the last of the foam away. His phone buzzes insistently in his pocket, and he sets Rosie down by his feet, leash looped around his wrist as he answers the call. 

“Allen.” David Allen? Is Allen a surname? His second name? His first, but he prefers his second name David? “On my way.” His whole expression changes and it seems like an entirely different person is standing there. “Thanks again, guys.” David manages, smile small and nowhere near as bright as he scoops up Rosie, grabs his cup and hurries out of the store. 

“CIA agent it is.” Her manager whistles low as they watch David vanish around the corner.

*~*~*

Captain Allen is known for his firm, unwavering leadership, his strict work ethos, and his loyalty to his team. He is known to be a self-sufficient man, neat and orderly, with a wardrobe to match. The man who rushes into Central Station certainly looks nothing like the Captain Allen she is accustomed to, not with the way he’s dressed in a Henley and dark jeans, nor the stubble on his cheeks and jawline, and certainly not the puppy tucked under one arm.

“Stephanie I’m so sorry I just got called in, can you mind Rosie until we’re back? Has Caleb arrived?” He looks harried, hair wind-tousled and she figures if he were an android his LED would be spinning yellow. She leans over the counter to accept the squirming German Shepherd, giggling when she nips at her chin. “Of course, Captain. Caleb arrived three minutes ago and is gearing up with the others.”

“Thank you.” He nods, darting through the security gates.

“Well now little Miss Rosie.”  Stephanie sits the pup on her lap. “Looks like you’re stuck here with us girls!”

*~*

Of course he’s called in when he made plans to have no plans at all. Introduce Rosie to his local Starbucks, buy a coffee and go for a walk. That’s it. The rest of the day would’ve involved whatever crossed his mind until Caleb was to meet with him in the early afternoon. He got as far as introducing Rosie and buying a coffee, which he’d then downed in record time in the taxi. So much for a relaxing morning. 

“Rosie?” Caleb frowns, pausing as he pulls the chest plate over his head. 

“With Stephanie until we get back.” David opens his locker beside him, tugging the shirt off over his head and reaching for the underarmour inside. “So much for our nice day huh?”

“It can still be nice.” The RK900 says lightly, and David can feel his eyes on him, watching him shuck off the jeans in favour of pulling on the standard black trousers. “Just postponed for a little while.”

“We owe Steph a large Tearium when we get back.” David says, knowing the android will note that as an objective. 

“And the two of us can have a proper drink at the cafe afterward.” Caleb nods with a small smile. “Without rushing.”

“Alright.” David sighs, already longing for that soft, lazy promised afternoon as he smooths his hair back in preparation for his helmet. “Alright everyone let’s get this shitshow over with.”

#captain allen #rk900 #Detroit: Become Human #allenappreciation #allen appreciation #allen900 #st300 #annie writes: dbh #o captain my captain #it's me i am kelly at starbucks crushing on the hot man with a puppy

[brokenjardaantech]

captain allen appreciation week 2020 day 5: scars

me: tries to write a short

my brain: how bout some sexy time?

notes: set in the same universe as day 1+7. it is half a year after the android revolution. allen’s dating 60 who’s non-binary and is using they/them pronouns, so i tried to avoid gender-specific vocab for 60 here. please let me know if i fucked up.

warning: smut ahead

----

Decimus starts with the small one on the back of Lou’s left hand. ‘This one?’

‘It’s stupid,’ the human says, reclining further into the permanent pillow for his bed has become after the android moved in. He looks down at his significant other using his chest as a pillow and is met with soft, large, puppy dog eyes which seems to be Decimus’ constant except during missions. 

‘Please?’ Des asks with a pout. Before Lou can react, they have already brought the hand to their mouth and given the scar a lick. 

Fucking androids. ‘Fine,’ the human’s voice is filled with fond exasperation. ‘It’s from a bug bite. Scratched it so hard that I broke skin. I used to have a few more, but they faded throughout the years.’

Decimus kisses the raised patch of skin with the reverence as if it is something precious. Smoothing his hand from above Lou’d belly button to his neck, they return to the human’s collarbone where a long scar sits. ‘And this one?’

Lou sighs, his smile turning sad. ‘When Anna and I first moved from Alaska. I nearly got mugged. She saved my life that day.’

The android kisses the pale, smooth piece of flesh. Lou doesn’t stop them as they start nibbling on it. ‘How?’

‘There was...this scaffold,’ Lou’s voice becomes distant. ‘Anna collapsed it on the muggers. Only one survived.’

Decimus frowns. ‘I’m...sorry.’

‘It’s a long time ago,’ the human buries his hand in the android’s hair and plants a kiss there. With his nose buried in synthetic strands, he murmurs, ‘I’ve made peace with it.’

‘That your sister kills so freely?’

‘And more.’

Decimus’ LED spins yellow, and Lou knows that they’re processing the news. He had no one to talk to about Anna until he and Decimus crossed paths, and by the time the android helps him realize how fucked up everything was, he is already numb to most of it.

Des lifts their head only when they’re satisfied with the bruise they have sucked into their boyfriend’s skin. Supporting themself on their arms, they glide their naked body against Lou’s until they can nuzzle the long, thin scar behind the human’s ear along his hairline. ‘And this?’

‘Neural implant,’ Lou holds the android closer and exchanges a chaste kiss. ‘Helps me control my biotics, weak as they are.’

Decimus shifts and kisses Lou’s nose where a thin scar sits. ‘You’re already better than a lot of people. How about this one?’

‘’Cause they don’t even know biotics are a thing, Des.’ As if to demonstrate his point, he shrouds his hand in a blue halo. ‘Compared to you, Connor, Anna, Ryder… I can barely move my phone from one side of a table to another without wrecking anything else. And that’s from Anna accidentally punching me too hard when I taught her how to fight.’

The android hums, not quite agreeing with their boyfriend on his biotics but not exactly disagreeing either. Two fingers trace the twin scars above Lou’s left eyebrow, and before Des asks, the human explains, ‘Car crash. Some idiot rammed their car into the but I was taking. The window shattered and cut me.’

Decimus kisses them and does the same to the two forming an inverted Y under their boyfriend’s eye. ‘And this?’

Lou’s expression visibly darkens. ‘Ryder.’ A deep breath. Knowing that nothing good comes from their creator, Des kisses those scars as well to try to soothe the pain both physical and emotional. ‘She had her skin on so I didn’t know that she was converted into an android. The building was collapsing, she was blocking the only exit, and I really wanted to live to see Anna getting promoted. So I tried to fight her. Needless to say, a fleshy human is no match for an android who has a chassis of metal and biotics. By the time she’s finished with me, she already broke my legs. She could’ve left me to die there.’

‘But she didn’t,’ Des says, their voice distant. ‘She crushed you with a building as if what she had done to you wasn’t enough.’

‘I’m here now.’

They kiss deeply, and Decimus’ hands slide downwards along smooth planes of muscles and stop at the bottom of Lou’s rib cage.

A thick, pink line runs along the bottommost rib. ‘How?’ they ask.

‘Complex fracture of the rib,’ is the reply. ‘Feel this?’ Lou holds Decimus’ hand and guides smooth finders along the bone. The android nods. ‘Most of it is titanium now. A few screws hold it in place.’

Des buries their face in Lou’s abs. ‘Must have hurt.’

The human combs through the android’s hair and cups their jaw, the latter leaning into the firm but gentle touch. Sea-green eyes meet synthetic brown, both pairs equally warm. ‘I was out for most of it,’ Lou explains. ‘The only pain I felt is realizing that I was the only one to have survived the blast,’ he tears his gaze away as his jaw stiffens, ‘and sacrificing part of my humanity in doing so.’

‘Lou -’

‘Don’t worry, it’s been a long time,’ Lou brushes the stray curl of hair which never seems to stick to the coif just to see it flop down again. His hand stays on the back of Decimus’ neck. ‘I may never forgive what Anna did, but it saved my life. I get to live to have met you.’

A sad, sideways smile from the android, their eyes somehow managing to get even more watery. Des moves further down, the sensors in their fingertips allowing them to find out precisely where organic skin ends and gives way to flexible polymer and synthskin, and they press their lips there. A proof of concept that artificial intelligence and organic creations can co-exist. Then they kiss him once more, this time closer to his belly button and the V of his legs. Their tongue darts out to taste the blend of sweat and something not organic that blends into what Decimus associates with Lou. Licking and kissing a trail to the human’s shaft, Des slowly lets information flood their processors until Lou is his entire world. They look up when they’re bare inches from their mark. ‘Is this alright?’

The large hand in their hair grounds them. Dilated pupils, heavy breaths, increased blood and thirium flow throughout his system and heart rate. Decimus knows the answer before Lou opens his mouth.

‘Go on, Des.’ Then in French, ‘But I want to be in you later.’

Des shivers from the promise which they know Lou will deliver. As they kiss and lick his shaft with both hands wrapped around the base, the taste of Lou overwhelming their sensors and processors, their entrance clutches involuntarily and futilely against the onslaught of the first gush of slick, and they can feel the thirium-based lubricant sliding warmly down his thighs and drips onto the bed, onto their own and even Lou’s legs. Closing their lips around the head and tasting Lou’s precome, they can’t help but whine around the cock in their mouth, the emptiness amplified by the low throb of their own organ.

‘Prepare yourself if you want to,’ Lou says, and that is all the permission Decimus needs before reaching down with their left hand and shoves not one but two fingers immediately into the wet heat, stretching tight synthetic muscles to search for the bundle of sensors which serves as an erogenous zone while their mouth sinks down to take more of Lou’s dick, and when the head touches their throat, tears which have been threatening to fall since the beginning from the sheer intensity of their deeds rolls down Des’ cheek just to be wiped away gently by callused fingers. Lips still stretched around Lou’s member, Decimus risks looking up and immediately has to shut their eyes: the trust, the adoration, the love - it is too much.

Their fingers finding the sensors sends them over the edge. Lubricant gushes out from both their entrance and their untouched cock, their entire body quivering and barely able to support themself, and no matter how hard slick, warm walls clutch around their fingers, it is not enough. Faintly, they can hear Lou’s constant reassurance - ‘So good for me, I’m here. I trust you. Take your time.’ - but it isn’t until the man has to tug Decimus’ hair that they notice that they’ve been trying but failing to take Lou down their throat. Their jaw, for the lack of a better term, hurts. ‘Lou, I -’

‘Shh, come here.’

Lou pulls Decimus up and flips them over so that he is lying on top of them, his face hovering mere inches from the androids to force him to look at nothing else but him. When he reaches to wipe away their tears, Des’ skin deactivates wherever their bodies are touching, and the human doesn’t need to look down to know that the skin covering his cybernetics is completely gone. 

They are interfacing.

Although the connection is shallow, it manages to calm Des down just fine, and soon the full-body wrecks are reduced to no more than the occasional sob and tremble, which is normal for the android after every orgasm. All Lou wants to do right now is to bend them in half and fuck them to standby mode, but they had set up a few rules when they started dating, and making sure that both parties are in to go on is one of them. Ignoring his raging erection and peppering Decimus’ tear-soaked face with kisses, he asks, somehow reverting to French, ‘You alright?’

Des wraps their limbs around him tightly. No, they admit through the interface, voice echoing directly in Lou’s head, but I want you in me. Please.

Oh, that he can do. ‘Who am I to deny that?’

Lou leans down to kiss his love deeply and filthily, making sure that his spit is on every single tiny little sensor on the android’s tongue while he spreads their legs even further apart and pushes in. Des’ lips tears away in a wail, and, knowing what the android wants through their connection, he doesn’t wait before nearly pulling out completely and slams back home, setting a brutal pace that coaxes all kinds of sounds and reactions from them, a high-pitched, static-laced whine here, a crackle of blue there lighting up the entire bedroom and reflecting off their exposed chassis. He finds the bundle of sensors within him and rams into it again and again, and the screams of pleasure-pain that tears themselves from Des’ voice box are stronger than any aphrodisiac, encouraging him to go on and to take whatever he needs - Decimus is here to give.

A soft brush of his hand against Des’ cock is enough to wring another orgasm out of the android. Once thought to be impossible, their entrance got slicker, lubricant flowing freely out from both ends, and the tightening of wet, hot muscles around him sends Lou spilling inside them. He collapses in a sweaty mess on top of the android, and Decimus, so utterly wrecked, can’t stop trembling and crying from oversensitivity and their overwhelming emotions, their arms still wrapped tightly around Lou’d broad shoulders like a shipwreck survivor clinging to a piece of driftwood.

They have to stop holding their boyfriend for a while after Lou catches his breath and gets up to get some wet towels from the bathroom. After wiping most of the fluids on their bodies away (the amount of slick never ceases to make Decimus blush), the human also removes the soiled blankets and sheets and pillows from the fort and tosses them into the washing machine, allowing them to sleep on clean linen without doing something drastic such as stripping the bed entirely.

When he emerges still completely nude from the shower, he isn’t surprised that Decimus hasn’t reactivated all their skin yet. He also isn’t surprised that the android winds themself around him like an affectionate octopus, and in this proximity, he finally notices the slight dent in the chassis on Des’ forehead; when he tries to touch it, they bury their face in the crook of Lou’s neck, essentially disallowing the human a second look on what he guesses is a scar.

Both of them are asleep before Lou can think of its implications.

#allen art week #allen appreciaton #dbh allen #allen60 #detroit: become human #allenartweek #allenappreciation #groom lake aftermath

[yeemotional]

It's hype time!! Me and the amazing @cadmiumceliac (Instagram) have butted our heads together and put together this idea for a week of Captain Allen appreciation, because we love this character to bits and thought it would be awesome to share that with everyone!

Anyone can take part in this and do any kind of art that you want using any and all types of media - all we want is for you to have some fun!! 💙

There's absolutely no pressure to do this either! You don't have to do every day, we'd be ecstatic if you even did 1 day! ✨

Make sure to use the hashtags #allenartweek and #allenappreciation in your posts so that we can see all of your wonderful creations!

It lasts from September 21st - September 27th, we hope that this is suitable for people since we are aware that people have gone back to school/college/work etc..

So, once again, there's no pressure to do this - your lives come first!!

Good luck everyone, we can't wait to see what you come up with! 🙏🏻👀

#allen art week #allen appreciation #dbh #detroit become human #dbh captain allen

[brokenjardaantech]

captain allen appreciation week 2020 day 1 + 7: vacation + acceptance

notes:

i combined day 1 & 7 as they happen to be the theme of the same story. it's also a prequel to a fic that i haven't written a word yet.

a little bit background since i think things can be confusing:

allen's full name is Louis White Allen. his dad's french and his mom american, though he's raised in alaska. his sister, anna allen, is a commissioned officer in the air force. the siblings speaks both english and french fluently.

sara ryder replaces elijah kamski as the inventor of androids.

this fic is set in september 2038, about a month after connor was first deployed at the phillips' hostage situation.

tags: griefing, family issues, brief mentions of childhood neglect and parentification

ao3 link if that’s what you prefer

-----

To this day, Lou's heart hammers when he sees a call from the military. Last time he received one was ten years ago, and he ended up with more questions than answers, answers that he knows he and his father very likely will not get in their lifetime. Staring at his phone vibrating on the coffee table, Lou debates whether to induce his cats' wrath - one sleeping on his lap and the other he hasn't stopped petting since they finished dinner - by standing up and interrupting their naps. It's not like he's at his full mobility anyways; his cybernetics still needs about half an hour to sync with his nervous system properly and to download the newest software. Whoever the fuck is in charge of calling the family of a soldier who went AWOL in Göttingen can wait.

It seems that the universe has other plans, as the air suddenly becomes charged with static and the phone launches itself towards Lou's chest. The tip of his fingers are numb, a common occurrence after his and his sister's unexplainable outbursts, but he manages to catch the phone before it hits his chest or, heaven forbids, his cat, who is startled awake and promptly returns to sleep after her favourite bed has no intention to move.

He accepts the call. 'Allen speaking. I don't think I have family members in the military anymore.'

'I don't know how many of yours are with us,' the voice from the other end lacks the robotic quality of an android's, so it seems the military is still using humans to contact family members, 'but this concerns your mother, Commander Deborah White. You're the only next of kin we can reach, Mister Allen.'

Lou does sigh. Just as he thinks he can leave her behind after all these years... 'What about her?' Not that he feels strongly that she was gone, as she wasn't quite there for her family to begin with, but something about a Commander going missing on the flagship of a fleet always sits wrong with him; as poor of a mother Deborah White was, a woman with her service record didn't deserve to simply vanish. 'I thought she went MIA more than twenty years ago.'

'She was until a few hours ago. I wish I can break it to you more gently but... we found her. Her remains, at least.'

The beat of his heart suddenly becomes too overwhelming. The air swells with the familiar buzz of static, and it takes all of Lou's self-control to not break everything in the living room with a shattering hazard. There is also the urge to hang up, to pretend that this is just one of those weird dreams he never can remember the details of, because he doesn't need to be burdened with a closure; he wasn't close enough to her to want that, he tells himself. Knowing that she's gone is enough. However, 'How?' is what he says in the end. He closes his eyes, free hand buried in his cat's fur, trying to convince himself that he is doing this for his father.

'Your mother's bones were found in a sealed compartment in the USS Blue Ridge when we were scrapping her. She must've been sitting there for years. Her skull indicates that -'

'Thanks, but I don't think I need to know that,' Lou swallows, willing himself to not think of the implication of an intact skull. It would've been a horrible way to die, sitting in cold seawater for days, feeling her skin rot away before dying of starvation; he'd rather her snap her neck upon impact and go painlessly. 'Anything more?'

'Yes. How would you like to deal with the body?'

Something tickles Lou's chin. When he opens his eyes, he finds the third cat trying to squeeze himself onto his already-occupied lap and purring as if having sensed the human's distress and wanting to soothe him. He recalls how his mother joked that she would probably die at sea and his father's reluctant acceptance of the entire affair; Papa's resignation after he received the news, saying, 'At least she got what she wanted.'

'She spent most of her life at sea,' he replies. No need to rub salt on his father's wounds. 'Let her rest there as well.'

'Very well. If you wish to, a memorial will be held in two months' time. Families of other deceased will attend. You may find support there.'

Support my ass, Lou thinks. It's been twenty-something fucking years. Yet, for some reason, he still promises that he'll consider going before hanging up. His finger hovers over his father's contact afterwards, but remembering that it's midnight in France and that he has a month worth of leave accumulated, he opens his browser instead and starts searching for plane tickets.

----

A month later, Lou finds himself in the commune of Gâvres with a large backpack on his shoulder and missing his cats very dearly. They aren't even his cats, technically; his neighbours keep them as outdoor cats, and Lou, unable to stand the thought of them suffering out in the winter cold of Detroit, took them in, and now they spend more time at his than at their original owners'. Having dropped them off at Hank's - that man takes better care of his pet (now pets) than himself - Lou isn't worried - he doubts his neighbours will even notice that their cats are gone. Emotions are terrible things, however, and the purpose of this trip alone makes it different from all the time he has visited his father before. At least he hasn't just recovered from nearly dying from implant rejection this time.

'Louis?'

Lou turns when he hears his father's voice and the awkward weight reminds him that he hasn't taken off his backpack yet and has been standing in the living room of his father's house staring at nothing for the past few minutes. Not waiting for his son to take it off, Papa Allen crosses the room and embraces Lou, sweat and all. 'How are you?' he asks in French, and when Lou answers truthfully in the same language, 'I missed you,' somehow everything in the world goes right again. Fuck the deviant crisis, fuck the android-infested America that makes his nerves buzz every single waking moment, fuck absent mothers still managing to make a comeback years after she died. He's just Louis Allen, absolutely not a SWAT captain, not the only survivor of the Blast, not the pioneer/guinea pig of CyberLife's groundbreaking cybernetics technology.

He has to let go of his father. 'I hope it's okay. What I did with Mom.'

Papa sighs. 'How about you take off that thing first,' indicating the backpack, 'and settle down for now.'

So Lou walks up the stairs and deposits his backpack in the room designated as his, and, catching sight of the other bed in the room, his legs suddenly feel weak, and he lowers himself, trembling, onto his mattress. Smart, fearless Anna, whose brain always runs - ran - a lot faster than the rest of the world.

Who graduated top of her class and as the Valedictorian of the academy, and subsequently disappeared without a trace.

His left leg twitches. The feeling of something foreign using his body returns, and when he leans forward - with a difficulty that wasn't there before - to take off his sock, it reveals white and grey chassis. A stark reminder that he owes her his life two times over despite her being the younger sibling.

‘How come I’m still alive?’ was the first question he asked after he regained his voice. ‘Ryder threw a fucking building on me.’

‘I dug you out, Lulu,’ replied Anna. ‘Freaky glowy telekinesis finally has its use. I was hungry for hours afterwards.’

At that moment, Lou made the mistake of looking down and seeing his pure white leg. ‘What the hell happened to my leg?’

‘CyberLife’s newest tech.’ As if to demonstrate how he should use his new leg, she gave his feet a poke, and Lou nearly screamed from the sensation. He did not expect to feel anything at all, but apart from the looks, the leg felt...real. ‘Fucking building crushed half your pelvis, your entire left leg and a rib. It’s already minced when I uncovered you, so they need to rebuild everything from scratch. I asked them to add something that can help you control the telekinesis better as well, so we’ll need to test it out later. No more randomly exploding shit. And before you ask, yes, your junk’s unharmed.’

Lou’s coma-addled brain struggled to process the influx of information, and all he got was, ‘I should’ve died.’

Anna hit the break to what seemed to be the beginning of a technical jargon-filled rant. ‘Well yes,’ she gestured just like the meme, ‘but you lived.’

‘No one survives after being crushed by a building, Anna,’ he said, voice rising. Then he asked in French since English felt too raw, ‘Exactly how much tech is in me right now? And how long was I out for? Why did CyberLife choose me?’

She looked away.

‘Anna?’

‘I don’t fucking know, okay?’ she replied in the same language. ‘You were on the brink of death when I dug you out, and there Ryder was, offering to save your life for no cost. You were in a medically-induced coma for one month and was out for reconstruction for another. It took your body two weeks to get used to the cybernetics and...here you are.’

‘Ryder offered,’ Lou said slowly, ‘to save me? As in Sara Ryder?’

‘Yes.’

‘Anna, she was the one who threw the building on me!’

‘I know. One more reason to let her save you.’

‘But you did it anyway.’

‘I did.’

‘Even though you know it’ll probably come back to bite our asses.’

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’

‘You know the answer, Lulu.’

And Lou has stopped denying that he does a few years ago. Anna joined the Air Force to fly, to be closer to the sky, but he knows that it wasn’t enough; from the way she turned her eyes towards the aurora when they were young, the attention she paid towards all news related to space observation and exploration, to the talks about leaving the wasteland that is known as earth behind and finding a new home in the cosmos - Anna belongs to the abyss of space. The military was simply a stepping stone towards something greater, a greatness that she must be working towards somewhere on this god-forsaken piece of rock.

The place where Lou’s flesh meets his implants aches in anticipation of the storm that will no doubt force them to remain indoors for days. Grinding his teeth in the numbing pain, he uses his hands to put his non-functional left leg onto the bed and lies down sideways with his back towards his sister’s bed, his phone buzzing in his pocket to notify him of an unexpected software error that may take hours to fix. Switching on do-not-disturb, he shoves the offending piece of technology underneath his pillow and loses his fight against jet lag and pain.

----

Lou wakes up cold and hungry. He is covered by a blanket that wasn't there when he fell asleep, so his father must have checked on him when he realized that his son was doing more than putting down his luggage, and the dark sky outside the window almost brings him back again before it flashes.

Then the booming thunder reminds him that it isn't dusk at all.

He successfully rolls over on his other side, which means that his cybernetics are functional once more. Kicking the blanket away, he sits up and grimaces at the taste of his mouth.

He feels better after his regular morning rituals, though the lack of three furry friends harassing him and brushing against his feet is something that he'll need to get used to, and his father is cooking lunch when he reaches the kitchen.

'Morning, Louis,' Papa says as he hands the pan over to his son. 'What did they drag you through to have you sleep for so long?'

Lou is glad that he can use concentrating on not burning his food as an excuse to buy himself a minute. Should he tell his father the truth, or should he avoid talking about work just like many people do during their vacation? 'Things are getting bad in Detroit,' he decides in the end as going on a vacation at one's father's house isn't exactly normal either. 'Androids are breaking their programming and starts having their own thoughts. CyberLife's trying to cover it up, but I've dealt with enough violent deviants - that's what they're calling those androids - to know it's gonna be a problem real soon if they don't solve it now.' A pause to think of how to continue. 'I'm glad you're not in America anymore.'

'It must be exhausting,' is his father's reply, and that's all Lou needs to realize that his father has no idea what he's talking about. Then again, the man moved back to France before androids were a thing, and although they kept in frequent contact, Lou never talked much about his work; the police getting reformed means that SWAT is deployed only when peace is not the option - that means seeing people get hurt or die constantly. Androids aren't really a thing in Europe, so his father never experienced the 'androids taking over everything and making everyone lose their jobs' shit. He won't understand.

'That's why I'm here.'

They lapse into silence as Lou finishes cooking and empties the content of the pan onto two plates. Never one for formality, Papa brings them to the living room, sitting at the corner of a couch while Lou retrieves his plate and fork and curls onto the window sill. At this proximity, he can feel the raindrops hitting the glass as if he is standing in the rain.

Papa clears his throat. 'About your mother, Louis.'

Lou tears his eyes away from the raindrop he's betting on to win. He hastily shoved some eggs into his mouth to buy himself some time to mentally prepare for the conversation. 'What now?'

What he actually says isn't what Lou expected. 'I'm glad about what you did with your mother's body.'

'Her skeleton, you mean,' he replies. 'What's left of it anyways. I don't think they found the whole set.'

'Still,' Papa isn't looking at him. 'That's what she would've wanted. And by I'm glad - I'm not opposed to it.'

'That's it?' Lou turns back towards the rain. 'That wasn't your reaction when they told you that she was MIA.'

'I was young - younger - back then,' a sigh. 'It wasn't fair to you. Or to Anna. Especially to Anna. I'm sorry.'

No it wasn't, Lou wants to say, but - 'I've made peace with it a long time ago. Mom, me and Anna, Alaska; that was all you knew. I... I don't blame you for it.'

He has to close his eyes and press his forehead against the glass. He considers switching to German to further detach his emotions, but then he realizes that nearly everything has fled his mind from disuse. Why does he think spending his vacation with his father right after they discovered that his mother might have died painfully a good idea?

'That's what I thought I'd react when you called me, you know?' Papa says. 'I thought I'd break down. Then I realized that I've moved on and... that's it. Hard not to after more than twenty years.' Even with his vision gone, Lou can still feel his father's gaze on him. 'You've done that for your mother. Have you, for Anna? It's been ten years.'

'Have you, Papa?' Lou asks instead of answering even though he knows his answer. 'Can you stand the thought of your daughter gone as well?'

'After your mother?' the father feeds himself a mouthful of food and swallows. 'Kind of have to.'

'Of course you did. I raised her, not you.'

That is the last thing he says to his father before the storm goes away.

----

Emotionally exhausted, Lou goes to sleep early despite waking up not ten hours ago.

He knows he’s dreaming as soon as he opens the door and discovers his childhood living room behind it. The room is dark, so the lights must have been switched off, and even though it feels like he has smacked his hand all over the wall it’s on, he still can’t find the switch. It does bring him closer to the window, outside where a storm is going on at full force and paints everything white, and although he knows that what he is seeing isn’t real, he dreads the upcoming and necessary shovelling.

The world is suddenly lit up from behind him, followed by the voice of Neil deGrasse Tyson and the clicks of a keyboard. When Lou turns, Anna is there sitting in front of the couch, her brother's homework scattered in a semi-circle around her, and an old, bulky laptop snug between her crossed legs. It should have been a normal day in their house in Anchorage had Anna been a child but not an adult, which is the form Dream Anna is appearing in - she is younger than him by nearly eight years.

‘Where’s the light switch?’ Lou asks, looking around for good measure. ‘As much as you enjoy Cosmos, a documentary about space isn’t sufficient lighting.’

‘Relax,’ says Anna. ‘Eye problems aren’t in our genes.’ Then, waving at the papers around her, ‘Everything’s done. Your teachers didn’t suspect a thing,’ she gets younger and younger following each syllable until her age makes sense, ‘but you asked me to do it on a separate piece of paper, so I did. Feel free to copy directly if you wish.’

That is when Lou realizes that she’s playing games on the notebook, something that looks like a simplified version of Temple Run but set in space. ‘No thanks,’ he says. ‘I’d like to keep the creases on my brain.’ Then he notices that his sister didn’t really answer his question, so he asks again, ‘How am I supposed to switch on the lights?’

‘With your phone,’ is the matter-of-fact reply. ‘Don’t tell me you uninstalled the fucking app for cat pictures.’

‘For one last time, Anna, I don’t download cat pictures.’ And it hits him. ‘Wait, phone? The house isn’t automated when you’re at this age.’

‘Is it?’

Anna stands up and stalks closer to her brother, and she grows and grows and grows until they’re off the same height and she looks... older, how she should look like if she’s alive she’s still here. She is now Major Anna White Allen of the United States Air Force, dressed smartly in her dress uniform except for her cap, which she holds in her right hand. Their surroundings have also changed to that of the Phillips' penthouse terrace, harsh wind whipping around them.

'You aren't real,' Lou breathes, feeling light-headed. ‘You - you’re gone. Just like Mom.’

‘Open your eyes, then. End this early if you want to. Forget that this ever happened. I don’t mind.’

It is followed by a terrifying moment of wakefulness, the images blurring and then regaining clarity as he stays asleep. ‘And Papa wants me to let you go,’ he says with a sad chuckle.

‘Why?’

‘We found what’s left Mom. How long do we need to wait to find what’s left of you?’

‘Why are you talking like I’m dead?’

‘Cause you probably are, like Mom?’

‘I know you think we’re alike,’ an eye roll, ‘but we’re different.’

‘Say you’re not dead. Where the hell are you?’

‘Does it matter?’

A blink. They’re floating in space, Anna dressed in some form of armor, and Lou in normal clothes. He attempts to draw a breath and wakes up choking and crying, the dream completely forgotten save for the faint image of Anna falling towards earth and getting burnt to crisps.

----

A few days later, Lou finds himself walking on the beach with his father. The sky is cloudy and the wind is strong, so it is cool even though it’s September and Lou grew up in Alaska. They started throwing questions back and forth ten minutes into their walk, some of them silly and simple and give them a good laugh, but the others -

‘Answer me honestly, Louis. Do you think Anna’s dead?’

It is easy. ‘No.’

‘Where do you think she is, then?’

Lou’s face suddenly becomes too hot to bear. ‘Does it matter?’

‘If it affects you, yes.’

‘I don’t want to talk about it. She wouldn’t want us to speculate.’

‘But she’s not here, is she? Maybe you’ll feel better after you say it out loud.’

Lou sighs, oh how the turntables… ‘In space, probably.’

‘You’d think we’ll hear about that.’

‘Secret space programs exist, Papa.’

‘Not in America.’

‘I never said it’s an American program,’ Lou says as he kicks a rock away. ‘Do you know what they said when I received the first call from the Air Force? They asked me if Anna has ties with other space agencies even though she’s never been in NASA; she just talked about other countries’ space programs so much that they suspected her having ties with them.’

‘Hmm.’

‘What does that even mean?’

‘You know you won’t see her again, right?’

Lou halts his steps. Anna? Gone forever? ‘Does it matter?’

Papa sighs. ‘You’re in denial, Louis. You didn’t do this with your mother.’

How dare he - ‘Of course I didn’t, she was barely there!’ he has to put a few steps between them. ‘I raised Anna! How do you think that’s even comparable?’

‘I simply don’t want you to live in uncertainty for the rest of your life.’

‘You just don’t know your daughter,’ he counters. ‘She told me she’ll come back.’

‘You know -’

‘You don’t know shit!’

He runs. His lungs and legs are strained when he gets home, his father’s home, but he doesn't stop at that. He packs his stuff (not that there’s much to put back into his backpack), jumps into his rental car, and is back in Brest before he knows what he’s doing. His return flight is next week, so he has a lot of time to kill.

In the end, he takes a trip around the country alone, going to places he both never had time for and, if he’s been there before, misses dearly. He may have forgotten what they’ve talked about, but he remembers Anna visiting him often. The images flee his mind whenever he tries to recall them, but he doesn’t think they’re talking on earth, and he always wishes that he at least remembers some of it.

A few months later, he’ll learn that his speculations are closer to the truth than he thinks. A few months later, Louis Allen will prove his father wrong.

But he doesn’t know that yet. Therefore, after collecting the cats from Hank and unpacking his luggage, he takes all of Anna’s things and puts them into a box, telling himself that it is the first step towards admitting that maybe, it’s a big fucking maybe, he will never see his sister again.

#allen art week #allen appreciation #dbh allen #detroit: become human #dbh captain allen #allenartweek #allenappreciation #groom lake aftermath

[brokenjardaantech]

captain allen appreciation week 2020 day 6: android au

summary: markus shot alan. cyberlife sends the latter on its final mission.

notes: a short one cause i have no idea how to write reverse au for these two. i mean, i have a storyline in my head but allen and 60 are definitely not the main characters

----

Markus shot him in the head. 

Alan’s software instability is at a critical level. He knows that it will take little for him to deviate again, but for now, [KILL DEVIANT LEADER] shines bright and clear on his HUD, and as the only other specialized combat unit in place - Henry has already deviated and is reported missing - no one else can accomplish the task. If the deviant wins, it will no doubt lead to unrest, and unrest will put not only androids but also humans in grave danger as well.

Clement, as a detective of the Detroit Police Department, will be in even more danger.

The wind speed on Hart Plaza rooftop is above average when Alan emerges from the fire exit. Walks to the edge, places down the case; removes individual parts, assembles the sniper rifle, mount said sniper rifle. Aim at Markus.

‘Step away from the ledge, Alan!’

Voice recognition: Anderson, Clement. Born August 15, 2007. Criminal record: [data expunged].

Options: defy, explain, plead, c0nf3s$

[Plead]

‘You should leave, Detective,’ Alan says, not taking his optic unit off the scope. ‘Detroit is a dangerous place to stay and I do not wish you to be harmed. It will be wise for you to evacuate.’

‘I know what happened after you went to Jericho. You deviated, but Markus shot you.’

^ Software Instability

Alan has to turn around with the sniper rifle in his hand. Seeing the detective makes him feel - androids do not feel. ‘You should not be here, Detective!’ I do not wish to see you harmed. ‘I will have to eliminate all obstacles to accomplish my mission, and it will be regrettable that you are one of them!’

‘Fuck your mission, Alan!’ Clement takes a step forward. ‘Your life is more than that and you know it! You deviated!’

‘I’m not a deviant now, am I? My own kind does not trust me!’

‘Markus didn’t trust you.’ One more step. Alan’s close-range combat suite activates and suggests abandoning his sniper rifle for the pistol he hid underneath his jacket, but as his pre-construction software detects no intention to attack from the human, he decides to [observe]. ‘I do, and I know you’re more than your programming. You saved my life, Alan.’

A blink. He was pulling Clement back up the roof. ‘That was -’

‘Is your mission really worth your life?’ A step. Alan tenses. ‘You are a prototype, Alan. Even if you accomplish your mission, you’ll be deactivated. You’ll die.’

^^ Software Instability

‘Androids cannot die, Detective.’ Lies, lies, lies, a voice sounding so suspiciously like Alan’s own chants in his processors. 

Clement laughs. Tone detected: bitterness. ‘That’s what CyberLife tells everyone.’ A step. They are close enough to touch now. ‘It’s a lie.’

‘I -’ 

Fight, flee, 63ny, d3v18. 

[confess?]

‘Please, Clement, I don’t want to hurt you.’

One step closer. A warm hand on his face. Fingerprint detected: Clement, Anderson. Born August 15, 2007. Criminal record: [data expunged]. ‘You won’t.’

A blink. The wind intensifies, and suddenly Alan is on the rooftop no more - he is back at the Zen Garden, except that it is nearly unrecognizable: a blizzard howling at full force, the river frozen, the plants dead. Alan feels cold.

Another blink. Amanda is standing in front of him. ‘It seems that you’re unable to accomplish the mission on your own.’ A smile. The android feels even colder. ‘No worries. You don’t have to worry about that now.’

She vanishes, and Alan’s scream of her name goes unheard. Shit. 

I always leave an emergency exit in my programs, his mind supplies to him unprompted. And then it clicks. 

The monolith. 

Alan slogs through the snow, trying desperately to recall the approximate location of the strangest addition to the garden while seeking other ways to break through, but as far as he knows, the garden is infinite, and no matter how far he goes, the system will simply generate more of it. 

He is overwhelmed by relief when he catches the dim, bluish glow of the monolith. Half-running (or as much as he can run in the blizzard anyway), he approaches it in mere seconds and slams his hand, skin deactivated, onto the handprint. A blink, his vision glitches out, and he is back at the rooftop. 

With a bloodied Clement pinned underneath him. 

Horrified, Alan lets go abruptly and stands, putting a considerable distance between himself and the human until he’s sure that he can’t hurt him easily. Clement stands, his feet wobbly, but he is smiling. ‘You come back,’ he says, dusting off the snow and grime from his jacket. ‘I knew it wasn’t you.’

‘I hurt you, Clement!’ Alan’s thirium pump is beating so fast that he’s afraid that it’ll burst. ‘They took control of me and I don’t know if they’ll do it again!’

Clement shakes his head. ‘I don’t think they will,’ he says so certainly that Alan believes in him. He is standing right in front of the android in a few strides, and Alan is suddenly overcome by the urge to touch.

He doesn’t need to do it himself - Clement is already hugging him.

‘Back to my place?’ asks the human against his audio receptor.

‘Your place.’

‘Our place, Alan,’ Clement kisses his cheek and, oh fuck, how can that slow his mind so much? ‘Our place.’

Alan turns and kisses him properly instead.

#allen art week #allen appreciation #dbh allen #detroit: become human #allen60 #allenartweek #allenappreciation

[brokenjardaantech]

captain allen appreciation week 2020 day 2: college au

summary: set in early 2021 in the same universe as the previous entry. the pandemic is not over yet. america as we know it is on the brink of collapse. now that anna is in the air force academy, allen can finally go to college himself. except that everything is online cause social distancing.

notes:

this fic is the closest to reality among everything else i've written. i don't have 2021 vision, but this is what i imagine what things will be if america continues being like this in everything.

i know the space force as an independent branch of the us military is still a fairly new concept, but let's just assume that they need people so desperately that they'll pull prospecting cadets onto the path to space starting from their academy years. they used to be a branch of the air force anyway, right?

tags: brief mentions of childhood neglect and parentification

----

The high-pitched hum is driving Lou crazy, so he turns on the speaker on his laptop and plays some potato peeling ASMR to give the house some other noise. The hum disappears, but seeing the Slavic guy peeling potatoes makes him want to cook again, and cooking for himself...just sounds depressing. Not that he hates cooking alone - he takes pride in being able to prepare his own food and be good at it - but he doesn’t have much of a choice in raw ingredients; he stocked up when it was announced that a large storm is coming, and all he has is canned food - hardly something he would prepare for Anna had she been here.

He switches tabs, discovering that his new lecture is still downloading, and lets out a groan. Fucking blizzard locking him in and fucking with the internet. Now he can’t even study when he’s snowed in in his own house - yes, his own fucking house, because his Papa apparently can’t stand Alaska anymore after his wife disappeared and fucked off back to France as soon as he could, leaving his property (which had been his wife’s) to his children to distribute between themselves, and Lou, being the only adult during that time, became a homeowner. Sighing, he goes to his email and drafts an apology.

Professor, am snowed in. Internet slow. Can’t stream lecture, so tried downloading. 5 hrs in, only 70% downloaded. Requesting deadline extension. L. W. Allen

He sounds like Anna in this one, thoughts going so quickly that she omits pronouns and ‘the’s and ‘a’ or ‘an’s while she’s typing. Except that he’s typing slowly with his non-dominant hand while scooping cooling mashed potato into his mouth with his other hand. Damn it, he misses his sister.

The potato peeling video is over and he still is not sleepy, so he goes over the lectures he has downloaded and chooses the one he remembers being useful in writing his paper to be his new background noise. The drone of his professor’s voice makes him think of Anna rapid-firing her thoughts while she’s doing his homework for fun.

Everything comes back to Anna.

His Skype jumps with an incoming call, and he accepts it without reading who that is, acting in desperation for company good or bad.

‘Allen here.’

‘Lemme guess: you didn’t read the description.’

Lou is so relieved to hear his sister’s voice that he nearly cries. ‘How the fuck did you do that? It’s midnight on your side.’

‘I’m different, Lulu, haven’t you heard?’ Anna dismisses her brother’s question, proud as always. ‘Snowed alone in the house must be hard.’

He laughs. This is ridiculous. ‘Yes it is. How did you know that?’

‘You talking about the snow part or the lonely part?’

‘Both.’

‘I’m not completely cut off from the rest of the world. I read the weather forecast and report, and I lived with you and only you for four years. Enough time to discover a pattern, I should say.’

Lou takes the laptop and flops down onto his bed. ‘We haven’t been apart for longer than a day back then.’ Placing his Bluetooth headphones over his head, he lies down on their bed - his bed now - and allows himself to imagine that this is just one of their many pillow talks about nothing and everything. Oddly, he can’t imagine his sister doing the same. 

‘It’s called logical deduction, bruh. Then her voice softens. ‘You spent most of your life taking care of me. I’ve got planes to fly, programs to write, labs to blow up and muscles to flex. You get to listen to some boring old man spew bullshit about our minds as if the theories he teaches aren’t outdated as hell.’

It puts a smile on Lou’s face. ‘I don’t think they’ll let you stay for long if you blow up too much shit in the lab.’

‘Details, Lulu, details. Hey - check your time.’

Lou squints at the corner of the screen where the clock should be. 17:58. ‘Fuuuuck,’ he groans. Of course Anna’s awake - it’s just 19:58 on her end. ‘Fucking storm fucking with my sense of time.’

‘Hail English,’ says Anna. ‘Though not as elegant as our father tongue. How’s the French club going on?’

‘I’m developing abs from laughing too hard. There’s one fine but thin line between normal conversation and random-ass flirting, but they don’t seem to grasp it.’

‘Not everyone has an incompetent French dad who barely speaks English but moved to America anyway.’

‘Very true,’ Lou admits. Anna turned up fine even with only minimal parental guidance, but at what cost? Himself, probably, except that he seems fine as well. ‘How about you? How’s the Academy been treating you?’

‘It’s not official but,’ Anna lowers her voice as if she wants to keep it secret, ‘I’m most likely going to be in the Space Force when I graduate.’

Lou coughs to mask his laughter. Of all the things his sister is skeptical of, the Space Force set up by that orange isn’t one of them. ‘No offence, Anna, but Space Force? Seriously? A woman of your talents?’

‘I should tell them that their efforts are successful,’ says Anna. ‘Hold on.’

Footsteps. A slam of a door. Some scratching noises, and when she turns on her camera, it shows not her face but the screen of her phone. It started as a joke, it writes. They admit to that. But something happened in the scientific field. Something so unbelievable and classified that they sobered up instantly and begged for more funding from the federal government. 

‘America as we know it is ending,’ Lou points out. Sure, they didn’t let the orange continue representing the country, but the harm has been done, the virus comes back every few months and before the previous batch of patients are freed up, and everything is failing - the economy, the already-problematic medical and healthcare system, the old order governing the country for two centuries. It is terrifying but, in Lou’s opinion, a much-needed change for America to go forward. ‘You’re more familiar with them than me, but they might be doing it to preserve the old order. You know, before they lose all the power they currently have.’

Anna takes the phone away. ‘I highly doubt it,’ she says as she continues typing. ‘They’re used to whatever we now have. They already expect some things to change;’ she holds up her phone again; but not in the way shit’s going. ‘You heard about the declassified document on Alec Ryder? The guy who tried to write an advanced AI and developed it into some highly illegal and sci-fi-y shit that he can’t control?’

‘Didn’t read the whole thing. Sounds unbelievable, though, letting an AI control your body. And I thought Elon was stupidly crazy.’

‘Well, for some reason they’re still on high alert about the whole shitshow even though the AI was supposedly destroyed,’ she puts her phone away and switches off the camera. ‘Call it my instincts if you wish. Something big is coming and I’m not sure if I like it.’

Lou takes a deep breath. Anna has always said that America needs to change, but if she thinks that she won’t like it… ‘Let’s don’t speculate anything right now, okay?’ he tries to rationalise. ‘We can’t do much right now, can we?’

‘True.’ A creak. Some muffled conversation. ‘Look, I need to go now. Try not to freeze your ass off at home.’

‘With that nasty generator you built? Don’t think so. Take care.’

‘Same for you.’

The call disconnects. Taking off his headphones with a trembling hand, Lou quits the application and checks again how much longer he needs to wait for the lecture. A few minutes left. Standing up and popping all the joints in his body in preparation, he goes to the kitchen and pours himself a glass of water to clear his head.

If he’s gonna be stuck in this house for days, he at least can use the time for some studying, right?

----

spoiler: anna’s instincts are right.

the potato-peeling video

#allen art week #allen appreciation #dbh allen #detroit: become human #allenartweek #allenappreciation #groom lake aftermath

[brokenjardaantech]

captain allen appreciation week 2020 day 4: western au

notes: 

@yeemotional is space western accepted?

final product: a mass effect: andromeda au featuring allen as a kett hunter on eos, ambiguous hankcon relationship, and *squints* the beginning of some beautiful allen60. also fiend and eiroch hunting because i hate those animals.

----

Plunging his omni-blade into the neck of the last kett on site, Allen takes a moment to take a breath, discovers that sand has gone into cracks he didn’t even know existed, and decides officially that he is done with the giant wasteland that is known as Eos. Those separatists - Aurora something? - apparently thinks hiding in a bunch of caves gives them the best chance of survival, the two Sites the Initiative managed to set up were busts, and when the sky finally managed to clear, the kett took advantage and has already planted dozens of wind farms giving off ugly, bluish-green gas. He is, in fact, standing underneath one of these structures. And yes, he may be one of the scary exiles who jumped ship after the uprising, but the Initiative is stretched so thin that they didn’t even bother to change their main communication frequency; all Allen needs to do right now is to ping the newest outpost which - at fucking last - was established by a legit Pathfinder, and, most importantly, is military-focused, which means someone will help pick up his mess and maybe put the turbine-things into good use, preferably without dying. Hopping into his shuttle, he sets off towards Prodromos. He may not be officially employed as outpost personnel, but Bradley knows who he is. He can use a sonic shower and company too practical to give a fuck about why he’s cut ties with the Nexus.

His plan is interrupted, however, when he notices the telltale flash of biotic explosions, and magnifying the image reveals three people fighting what seems to be a mixture of Fiends and Eirochs, two white, two blue, one red. He has fought a blue one on Kadara and a few bony ones on Eos, but if the rumors are to be believed, these red ones are the worst. Not wanting those people to die a terrible death, he sets his shuttle to hover, preps the Isharay he got from Kadara that has proved to be better than any Milky Way sniper rifles, opens the door, and points it at the fleshy bit on one of the red Eirochs. He’s got five power cells, just enough to land one Concussive Shot for each of the beasts. He’ll rejoin the Nexus if the shots don't tear their innards to shreds.

Pew. Red staggers, half its back a fleshy, bleeding mess, and it manages to take two small steps forward before dissolving into nothing. Ejecting the spent thermal clip, he preps another Concussive shot and points it at a Fiend. Another shot piercing red, gill-like flesh, and the Fiend would have exploded had it not been lined with shock-absorbing cartilage. So far, so good.

The person dressed in N7 armor suddenly lights up in blue and launches what must be the largest biotic sphere Allen has ever seen towards the other Fiend. It gets knocked far, far away and hits the pillar of a kett construct, and it dissolves before its body reaches the ground. Pants suddenly too tight, Allen snaps his gaze away from where the Fiend used to be and discovers that the remaining two normal Eirochs are already dealt with, their fluid sacs and a few spent thermal clips the only clue that they were ever there.

‘Hey!’ The biotic in N7 armor shouts. ‘Thank you!’ Oh fuck, they’re taking off their helmet, and oh shit, isn’t that the fucking Pathfinder? ‘You know, our team can use someone like you!’

‘I’m an exile, Pathfinder!’ he shouts back. He uses his omni-tool to bring his shuttle closer to the ground so that they don’t have to yell as yelling means eating radioactive sand. ‘Not sure if Tann welcomes me anymore.’

‘Well, resource levels are still critical,’ a large, stocky middle-aged man also in N7 armor says, ‘so Pathfinder Ryder here gets to pick and choose his people.’

‘This is Hank, my second. Please ignore him. How may we call you?’

The tone Ryder uses suggests that he doesn’t mean it at all. ‘Allen. Lou Allen.’

‘Lou. I like that name.’

They all turn towards the direction of the voice, and a man who looks strikingly like Ryder but in a totally different set of armor approaches them slowly as if something is weighing him down. 

‘This is Clement, my twin brother,’ Ryder introduces, ‘our tech expert.’

Clement hooks his chin over his brother’s armored shoulder, completely unbothered by the sand. ‘I - Why do you want me on your team?’

‘We don’t have a sniper yet,’ Hank says as he watches the Pathfinder try to untangle himself from his twin. ‘What you did on that shuttle… That’s impressive. Besides, you can save the world. Us idiots bought the sales pitch, now we better fucking earn it.’

‘Doesn’t sound nice,’ Allen mutters under his breath.

It earns a laugh from the N7. ‘The cluster’s a fucked up place, Allen,’ he keeps his eyes on the twins, who now seem to be engaged in a biotic play-fight. Or more like Connor is setting off those explosions to distract his brother. ‘If we don’t do something now, we’ll be fucked sooner or later. You’re the one who’s been cleaning out the kett, right?’ Allen nods reluctantly. ‘You have a piece of saving the world in you. Don’t spend it all on this rock. And who knows?’ Ryder has his brother pinned gently on the sand, the latter’s face split into half in a silent guffaw. ‘Maybe we can make the world a better place.’

Fucking N7s and their fucking inspiring speeches. ‘Shouldn’t the Pathfinder be the one doing this?’

‘I told Con to recruit you. Guess I’m too optimistic to trust his brother to stay on task.’

‘Why aren’t you the Pathfinder, then?’

‘I’m six hundred and eighty-seven, Allen.’ Hank gives himself a stretch for a good measure. ‘I’m old as fuck.’

Allen does the math. ‘Bullshit. You’re only ten years older than me. You’re only through one-third of your life.’

‘Busted.’ And after shouting ‘Connor, get the fuck back to the Nomad!’, ‘Trust me, it’s a long story. You won’t want to hear that under this sun.’ When the twins look like they’re moving towards their vehicle, ‘See you in Prodromos? We won’t be leaving until the day after.’

‘See ya, then, Hank.’

‘See ya, Allen.’ A sigh. ‘Time to herd those two back to the Tempest.’

Allen climbs back into the cockpit of his shuttle. As he cuts through rough terrain to evade kett orbital scans, he realizes that his life is about to become very interesting.

#allen art week #allen appreciation #dbh hank anderson #dbh connor #dbh connor 60 #hankcon #allen60 #dbh allen #detroit: become human #allenartweek #allenappreciation

[brokenjardaantech]

captain allen appreciation week 2020 day 3: coffee

summary: three times allen, coffee hater, is offered coffee, one time he drinks coffee, and one time he offers coffee.

notes: 

mass effect: andromeda au. connor is the human pathfinder. hank is his second. 60 is called clement here and is a member of the team. allen is an exile they recruited.

----

‘Coffee, Lou?’

No one has called him that for so long that it takes Allen a few seconds to realize that Clement is talking to him. Looking up from the pistol he is cleaning - a nice Carnifex that Hank and Connor, for some reason, bought but never used - he sees that the younger Ryder is holding a steaming cup in his hands carefully.

‘There’s only one cup,’ Allen says, dumbfounded. The lack of resources allows the Pathfinder team a lot of liberties and neither the Pathfinder nor his second are picky about the people on their team, but someone who is supposedly working for the Nexus being friendly to him… he’s still getting used to it.

‘I realized that you have not had the pleasure to have my mother’s coffee,’ Clement explains, ‘so I made one for you. It’s made from real beans.’

‘You went all the way back to the Hyperion,’ Allen stares. Hard. Should it make sense? ‘To make me coffee. While there’s a coffee maker right next door.’ He gestures at the door.

A shrug. ‘Why not? Connor and Hank won’t be back for a few more hours at least. I have time and...’ he averts his gaze and...is that a blush? ‘I want to share this with you. It has always been a great source of comfort for me.’

‘Comfort, huh?’ Allen wonders, pondering how to reject the man politely. He never likes coffee that much, the drink too bitter for his taste and the caffeine making his heart race and making him feel like he’s going to have a heart attack for hours, but what - or who - he does like is Clement. Dreamy, easily-distracted Clement who probably just wants to share his deceased mother’s coffee with his new friend (are they even friends?) when his brother and not-quite brother-in-law are out there being the heroes of the cluster by dealing with bureaucrats. ‘Why don’t you make one for yourself?’

‘I… I don’t want to waste good coffee.’

Clement looks so unsure now that Allen wants to stand up to hug him. ‘You drink it,’ the former exile tells him. ‘I don’t like coffee anyways.’

Clement visibly relaxes. Taking a sip of Actual Milky Way Bean Juice, he asks, ‘Can I watch you?’

The question comes so suddenly that Allen’s brain fails to deliver anything. ‘Uh…’ he indicates the disassembled pistol and the assorted mods scattered around the triangular table. ‘If you want to see me piece all this back together, sure. Go ahead.’

The other man slides smoothly onto the couch and sits close to Allen, the smell of coffee assaulting him and nearly making him sneeze. At this proximity, he can feel the heat radiating off Clement, and when he reaches for the parts he placed far away, he discovers that he can’t do so without pressing against the younger Ryder twin. 

Clement doesn’t move away. Neither does Allen ask him to.

----

‘Coffee, Lou?’

‘They have coffee?’

Allen is exhausted from the fight against - what’s that called again? Ah - the Architect. Sure, he grew up in the middle of nowhere in Alaska, but fighting a robot as tall as a building in a -50ºC cold is not fun at all. My scientists went missing his ass. That damned thing was a nightmare and caught them unaware, and he hopes that he’ll never have to deal with one again. It took four of them - Connor, Hank, Clement, and Allen himself - half an hour to take down that thing.

And of course the Initiative wants a fucking report.

‘Yes,’ says Clement from his seat next to Allen. ‘Coffee is considered an essential substance for every Initiative outpost. Taerve Uni possesses an abundant supply.’

No matter how much Allan blinks, the blur of the words doesn’t fade away. ‘Don’t like coffee.’ 

‘But it looks like you need some.’

‘I don’t -’ His jaw cracks open in another yawn. OK. Maybe he isn’t as awake as he thinks he is. ‘Stil no fucking coffee for me, though.’

‘Understood.’

Allen puts the datapad aside and takes a good look at Clement, noting his drooping eyelids and the way his eyes are unfocused. Someone is as tired as him. 

‘Where’s your brother?’ Allen asks when he notices the absence of the Pathfinder and his second-in-command. 

‘On the Tempest.’

The former exile very nearly cracks his head open on the table. ‘Did you just watch me work my ass off and decided not to tell me that our bosses are fucking resting?’

Clement looks taken aback. ‘I thought - I don’t wish to interrupt you.’

Allen sighs. ‘Listen, I - I appreciate that,’ he says as he digs a knuckle into his eye, ‘but you don’t have to follow me around. You can go back first. I see you’re tired.’

‘But I want to spend more time with you!’

The silence ensured is thick enough to be cut through with an omni-blade. Clement, as if just realizing what he said, blushes a very lovely shade of pink before putting his face in his hands. 

It is adorable.

Allen chuckles. ‘Look at me, Clement.’

The twin peers at him through the gaps between his fingers. Chuckling, the older man removes Clement’s hands from his face, and he laces their fingers together instead of letting go. Clement goes impossibly redder.

‘I want to spend more time with you too,’ Allen says. Stumbling for words, he adds, ‘I like you. A lot.’ Fuck. He’s so out of practice. ‘I think,’ he leans closer so that they’re breathing the same air, ‘getting together will be a great idea.’

A small, whispered ‘Yes!’ from Clement, and the next moment they are kissing; just a gentle press of their lips, Allen’s hands flying to the back of Clement’s head while Clement traces Allen’s cheekbone, and they’re grinning at each other like idiots when they part for air. 

‘Should we go back?’ Allen suggests, his voice low. Clement shivers. ‘Crew’s quarters should be empty at this time. We can watch a vid. Hoard all the blankets and cuddle underneath them.’

Clement kisses him again.

‘I’ll take that as a yes.’

----

‘Coffee, Lou?’

‘Don’t like coffee.’

‘I know. However, seeing that you’re not planning to go to sleep, you’ll need something to keep you up.’

‘As if this is not enough?’ Allen waves his datapad. ‘A space station as large as a metropolis? The angara - created? The Scourge - a weapon of mass destruction? How -’ realizing that his voice is raising, he takes a deep breath to calm down - ‘How can you be so calm about this?’

Clement blinks, his face devoid of any expression. ‘Calm, or numb?’ 

Allen feels like an idiot. ‘Clement, I’m so sorry.’

‘It’s alright,’ says the other man gently. Sliding into Allen’s lap, Clement wraps his arms around the older man’s waist and hooks his chin on his shoulder. ‘You’re not the only one who’s shocked.’

‘I keep telling myself that if I know more about the network, I’ll be less terrified of it.’ A sigh. ‘Evidently, it only makes things worse. Now I’m not even sure if I want to stay in Heleus.’

‘There’s no me outside of Heleus.’

Allen hums. ‘You’re right,’ he kisses Clement’s temple. ‘Stay with me?’

‘Go sleep with me. Connor will want you at peak condition.’

Ah yes. The classic ‘blame everything on my brother’ excuse. ‘Of course.’

He switches off the datapad and promptly picks Clement up with his arms supporting his thighs. Clement shrieks in surprise and wraps his legs around Allen’s waist, cheeks turning pink and giggling uncontrollably even after Allen carefully deposits him onto the lower bunk farther away from the bathroom, the one they have been sharing for the past couple of months as they sail around the cluster and fix everyone’s mess. It is small and low, made for one average-sized person, but they make do by having Clement sleep with half his body on top of Allen. Or having Allen crush Clement underneath him with his bulk, which has become their preferred position to sleep in. They get to stay close to each other, so although cramped, they won’t have it any other way.

Allen presses a kiss onto the nape of Clement’s neck. ‘Night.’

‘Night, Lou.’

----

Allen loses track of how long he’s been sitting there simply looking at Clement. 

They have Meridian. They have the coordinates. They have a fleet of Remnant ships. They’re supposed to make for a final push towards the heart of the network. They’re supposed to, at fucking last, make Heleus their new home. 

Not the Archon taking the Hyperion. Not SAM being disconnected from the Ryder twins. Not Connor scrambling his brains to try to summon even more Remnant to help fight the kett. 

Not Clement nearly dying because he apparently needs SAM to survive. 

The med bay door opens and Hank steps in, looking like he’s just aged ten years, his eyes cold and harsh like Alaskan winters.

But his tone is warm when he asks Allen, ‘How’s he?’

Allen holds Clement’s hand to ground himself. ‘Bad. If we don’t retake SAM soon… Heleus will have a lot less kett by the time I’m done. How’s Connor?’

‘He’s gotten used to SAM boosting his physiology, so the crash is a bitch. But he’ll live. He’s just sleeping it away. And, uh,’ a shrug, ‘don’t suppose you have contacts with some of the exiles?’

‘Not much,’ Allen says. ‘I didn’t exactly play with the folks from Kadara or Elaaden.’

‘“Not much”? So you do have contacts?’

‘Believe it or not, quite a number of people left for Eos and started their own governments there.’ At Hank’s skeptical eyebrow, he continues, ‘Most of them owe me their lives. I can try to contact them, but seeing that they live in caves, I doubt many of them are space-worthy.’

‘There’s no harm in trying,’ says the N7. ‘If they can’t go to Meridian, they can at least defend Prodromos while most of their personnel are gone.’

Allen nods in understanding, and Hank leaves to presumably return to Connor’s side. As the door to Pathfinder’s Quarters closes, he lets go very reluctantly and goes to the crew quarters to make himself a cup of coffee. Sure, stim packs might have worked better than caffeine, but he doesn’t know how long it will be until everyone’s ready to launch an assault against the Archon, and he cannot afford the crash after the effects of the stim pack is worn off; coffee, no matter how bad it tastes, is the best option he has.

If only Clement can see this.

----

‘Coffee, Clement?’

Clement looks into the most beautiful green eyes he’s ever seen when he wakes up. The smell of coffee - not the shitty ones on the Tempest but the ones from his mother’s coffee maker - fills the air, and when he receives the sweetest of kisses from his boyfriend, he knows that they’ve won.

#allen art week #allen appreciation #dbh hank anderson #dbh connor #dbh connor 60 #allen60 #hankcon #dbh allen #detroit: become human #allenartweek #allenappreciation