Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The TV is on low, adding some comfortable background noise to the usual dull silence of my apartment. And although its glow illuminates the room with an artificial light, I find myself barely noticing the flickering images on screen.

Engulfed entirely by my own thoughts. Trying to make sense of the mess of emotions that have occupied my head for the past few weeks, as if attempting to untangle an elaborate knot.

Because I’m thinking of him again. Always of him. Connor.

And I know I shouldn’t be. Because I have to keep reminding myself that he isn’t worth my time. He cheated on you Oliver. Remember? My stomach clenches at the memory and I resent my own stupidity. At ever assuming a man like Connor could have feelings for someone like me. Someone so normal. So forgettable.

He won’t be giving me a second thought. Having dusted himself off after I kicked him out. Wiping away crocodile tears and chuckling that the sad tech guy he’d been screwing had finally had enough.

He’s probably slept with half the men in Philadelphia by now.

I down the last of my wine and sigh. Because as much as I hate Connor for leading me on, making me feel like we actually had something before dashing it all by hooking up with someone else; a part of me misses him.

That’s the thing with guys like Connor. They’ll move on from you in a matter of seconds. Whilst you have to fight in order to forget them.

Because deep down I’m still hanging onto him. Like some sad, one sided childhood crush.

Can you blame me? He’s Connor fucking Walsh. And for a fleeting moment; he was mine.

Chapter Text

Connor brings himself down beside me on the sofa, breathless. He turns so that our faces are inches apart and kisses me again. This time with a new softness that contradicts the fire ignited in his pupils.

A fire which I suppose I’m partially responsible for. The way we were entwined just moments ago, our kisses sloppy, desperate, messy. Connor’s muffled groans against my lips. Intoxicated by each other’s touch.

I meet his wild eyes, scanning Connor up and down. His hair is disheveled and descends over his forehead in messy black waves.
He glistens appealingly with sweat that highlights his toned torso. And I’m thankful that our shirts remain discarded on the floor beside the couch, so that I’m able to take in this image of a drained and shirtless Connor for a few moments longer.

He shoots me a signature lopsided smirk, reaching out to trace lazy patterns across my collar bones with his fingertips. “What are you looking at?” Connor whispers in a teasing tone.

I lean forward and drop a kiss on his jaw. “You.” I murmur, brushing a strand of hair out of his eyes. “I’m looking at you Connor Walsh.”

Connor moves so that our noses touch. I reach for his hair again, trapping my fingers in the chaotic waves.

“I never thought I’d find it.” He breathes, so quietly I can barely distinguish his words.

“Find what?”

Connor pauses, studying my face. “Love.” He replies in a broken whisper, colliding our lips together before I can utter a word in response.

I pull back slightly, shooting him a quizzical look. “You love me?” I mutter, absentmindedly massaging my fingers in his hair. Trying to ignore the fact that my heart is suddenly racing at Connor’s sudden words.

“I...I’ve loved you for a long time Ollie. I’ve loved you since we got drunk at that seedy bar and you almost got into a fight with the bartender because he wouldn’t agree with your suggestion that I was the hottest guy in the building.”

I giggle, a foggy memory of said event drifting to mind. Connor continues, his eyes fixed on mine. “I’ve loved you, Oliver Hampton, since you held my hand the night of the bonfire and coaxed me out of a panic attack even after I woke you up at 6:00am. Which I must say was very inconsiderate of me.” He muses, a grin playing on his lips.

“I’ve loved you since I tried to cook you breakfast that one Saturday and you continued to let me into your apartment, even after I almost burned the building to the ground.”

“You really are a terrible cook.” My voice comes out fragile, as I let Connor’s words sink into my skin.

“I love you Oliver. And it scares me a little because I... I’m not good at this stuff.”

Its my turn to kiss him. Fiercely, as if trying to taste the words that have just escaped his lips.

I always assumed that me and Connor were casual. Him often throwing around the line “I don’t do boyfriends,” with a knowing smirk. But here he is, lying beside me on my sofa and telling me that he, Connor Fucking Walsh, loves me. Boring, forgettable Oliver.

“I love you too Connor.”

“I know.”

I roll my eyes. “That obvious is it?”

“You told me.” He giggles, dragging the pad of his thumb across my cheek.

“When?” I splutter.

“A while ago, you were incredibly drunk.”

Drunk enough to not even recall.

“I was trying to get you to go to bed but you wanted to erm,” he bites his lip thoughtfully, “do things.”

“Hmm. Are you suggesting that I’m a horny drunk?”

Connor throws his hands in the air in mock protest. His eyes flicker playfully. “Suggesting? No, I’m confirming.”

“Okay because you’re never in the mood for sex.”

“We’ll discuss my sex addiction letter Oliver; I’m getting to your confession.”

I purse my lips.

“So as I was saying, your drunk ass was all set on seducing me into your bed. And you know I almost gave into your charms. But as much as it pained me, I had to decline.”

“Wow such a gentleman not taking advantage of his drunk boyfriend.” I retort, although I’m blushing a little.

“I tucked you in and just as I was leaving the room, you said it.”

“Said what?”

Connor smirks, loving every second of this.

“I. Love. You. In all your drunken Oliver glory.”

I wack him in the chest with the sofa cushion, watching the royal blue pillow collide with his washboard flat stomach.

“I don’t speak for intoxicated Oliver. He is a whole new identity all together.” I argue, slightly mortified that I confessed my feelings so early on.

“I don’t know Ollie. I think drunk Oliver is quite a character.”

I bat him with the cushion again.

“Drunk Ollie is also a lot more...” Connor’s gaze momentarily lands on my lips, “forward.”

His eyes have darkened and there’s something daring in his crooked smile.

“You know,” I mutter, “Sober Oliver can be forward too.”

“Can he no...”

I cut him off, my lips falling against Connor’s. He kisses back almost immediately, already coaxing my mouth open with his tongue. The kiss deepens and I reach up to lock my hands around Connor’s hips which rut gently against mine.

Both of us itching for round 2.

Chapter Text

Connor could barely feel his feet touch the sidewalk as he paced home, head clouded, eyes glassy, disappointment and shame pounding in his ears.

He was still reeling from the jury’s verdict. Entirely perplexed by this afternoon’s events. Connor was sure. So incredibly sure that he could have won the case. Spared his client, an elderly man, a gruellingly long prison sentence.

But it had all gone to shit. The moment Connor opened his mouth to present his defence, he knew - they had already lost.

The jury had surveyed him with a steely coldness; the judge seemed irritated by his words.

Connor was always one to deliver a passionate defence. Sometimes too passionate. But always honest, always sincere.

Although, on this occasion, his efforts were futile. There was too much evidence stacked against his client; a streak of bias to the predominantly middle class jury and a sharpness to the judge’s words when she addressed Connor.

As he rounded a familiar street corner, not far from the apartment he shared with his long term boyfriend Oliver, Connor couldn’t help but replay the moment in his mind.

*

“Have you reached a verdict?” Queried the judge, considering each of her words as if selecting a chocolate from a box.

“We have your honour,” replied a middle aged jury member in a stiff voice.

“We name the defendant, guilty of first degree manslaughter.”

*

The apartment block drifted into view but Connor barely noticed. All he could see was his client’s eyes. Merciful, warm eyes. Eyes that had witnessed far too much for one life. Eyes that had lived out a hundred interlocking stories. Eyes that had gradually drained of hope upon the jury’s announcement. The same eyes had met Connor’s without resentment or hatred; only unapologetic gratitude for his efforts. And that’s what hurt him most of all.

The keys rattled in Connor’s shaking hands, his breath hitching with each feeble attempt to enter the apartment. Eventually the key slotted into the lock.

Connor just about managed to stagger into the apartment before the panic attack consumed him entirely.

Who knew his heart could thud so manically, so rapidly. Vision blurring, eyes streaming - Connor called out for the one person he knew could make things better.

“O...oliver.” He croaked, embarrassed by the vulnerability his fragmented voice portrayed.

Connor was breathing in ragged, uneasy breathes, trying to get air to his lungs as he sunk down the wall and hugged his knees to his chest upon contact with the floor.

Oliver appeared from the bedroom and ran to Connor almost at once, his expression pained with concern. He sat down beside Connor on the carpet and just held him, as the younger man shuddered beneath his grasp.

Connor could barely respond, chest heaving, as Oliver whispered soothingly, “that’s it Connor, in and out, in and out, just breathe”. Again and again.

The two of them remained entwined, until Connor was finally breathing half normally. He felt his hammering heart relent, began to see Oliver clearly, notice the sensation of his boyfriend’s thumb brushing his tear tracked cheeks.

They didn’t say anything for a while.

They didn’t need to.

“I...I...I’m,” it look Connor a moment to find his words, “I’m sorry...I didn’t mean to s...spring that on you.”

Oliver kissed him softly, silencing Connor at once.

“You need to stop apologising for things you don’t need to be sorry for.”

Connor gave Oliver a shaky but signature smile. Exhausted eyes locking onto Oliver’s warm brown orbs.

“I love you so much Connor. And I hate to see you...” Oliver’s voice broke a little “See you falling apart.”

“I... messed up at work today.”

“Oh baby.”

“This man. I was s...supposed to win the case.”

Oliver sensed the fragility in Connor’s voice and brushed the subject aside.

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow, when you’re in a better frame of mind.”

Connor nodded, hands trembling slightly.

“For now I’m going to run you a bath. And then we’ll make dinner, whatever you want, I’ll even stomach one of your healthy stir fries if I must.” Oliver smiled softly, giving Connor a wink.

“What did I do to deserve you?”

“You deserve the world Connor Walsh.”