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Oliver tightens the thin blanket around his shoulders as yet another person walks through the door, letting in the chilly night breeze. The fact it's technically no longer Winter doesn't stop the wind from biting. He’s got the charger under his feet and his laptop on his lap, and a pillow he will probably have to throw out after tonight under his butt. He’s almost tuned out the incessant humming from the vending machine beside him (powered by the only wall socket in the whole lobby) but it’s still annoying and really cold. On top of that, he’s reorganized his files and folders, his iTunes and started on his next assignment, but there’s only so much to entertain yourself with when there’s no wifi.
Ugh, how can it only have been four minutes since he last checked the time? Oliver miserably regrets not grabbing his wallet or his movie hard drive before flusteredly tripping out his dorm room door over an hour ago.
“Hey, are you okay?”
He looks up and nearly swallows his tongue. “Y-yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.”
Oliver recants his earlier thoughts and sincerely regrets his entire life, and wishes he was wearing something sexier than a ratty old sweater. He fiddles with his glasses and gives a small smile, breaking eye contact, giving the hottest guy in the whole building – hell, the entire campus, a chance to keep walking without it being awkward. He doesn’t take it.
“Are you locked out or something?” He asks.
“And happen to have half my bed with me?” Oliver smiles shyly for real. “No, um, my roommate has some… company, so I’m steering clear until they’re… done,” he finishes lamely.
His hair is windswept and he’s clutching a bunch of books and a heavy laptop bag, but Connor Walsh still remained irresistibly sexy. Life was very unfair.
Connor raises his eyebrows. “Oh. You mean… er, biceps?”
For a moment it looks like Oliver’s laugh catches Connor by surprise, but then he's smiling too.
“Biceps?" Oliver says between laughter, "Is that what people call him?”
Connor’s smile turns sheepish when he shrugs. “I don’t know, I’ve just seen him in the corridor a few times - heading out to the gym, I think. You’re 303, right?”
“Y-yeah, that’s us. And that sounds like Dom.”
“So, you two aren’t…”
“No. I’m, um, not really his type.” Oliver didn't mean to be so honest and fiddles with his glasses again, pushing them up unnecessarily.
Connor looks thoughtful. Dark and handsome from 303 definitely wasn’t straight, judging by the long appraisal and smile he and Connor had exchanged when he first moved in.
“We’re good friends and not compatible like that. He’s a good roommate. Makes great pancakes.” Oliver adds, when Connor doesn’t say anything.
“You mean, when he doesn’t kick you out of the apartment while he gets lucky," Connor says.
“Yeah," Oliver grins, "Something like that.”
“Listen, it’s really cold out here. Do you want to wait it out in my room?”
Oliver stares up at Connor owlishly from behind his black frames. “Seriously? You don’t have to. It’s not that uncomfortable here, and…”
“Are you kidding? It’s freezing. Come on.”
Oliver bites his lip. He lied. It’s actually really uncomfortable; the old walls seem to radiate cold somehow and it's seeping past his blanket, sweater and into his bones, and his phone is running low on battery. He’s also quite curious. He’s seen/spied quite a few guys – good looking guys, leaving quietly from 310, never to be seen again. But walking into the room of the guy you’ve had a crush on since you moved in seems like a really bad idea.
“Think of it as a neighborly gesture type thing.”
That brings Oliver’s trepidation, but also elation, down a notch. Of course, Connor wouldn’t mean this to be any more than a friendly act of kindness.
“Okay. Thanks for this.” Oliver unplugs his charger and scoops up his pillow.
“No problem. Oliver, right?”
Oliver almost trips on nothing. He was still struggling to process that Connor Walsh knew of his existence, let alone his exact dorm number, and now his name?
“Yeah.” No point in pretending. “And you’re Connor. We… We’ve met.”
“I remember.” Connor says casually. They make their way up the stairs. Oliver concentrates really hard on not looking at Connor’s ass as he leads the way.
“Really?”
“Yeah. It was in the corridor. And then you helped us set up the wifi.”
“Oh, I don’t remember that. The second part.”
“Not surprising. I think you set up everyone’s that day.”
Oliver nods ruefully, that was true.
“But I saw you later that night. At the start of term party.”
Oliver frowns as he searches his memory. He remembers the party, but he didn’t remember speaking to Connor. And that’s something he’d definitely remember, no matter how many cocktails he had. And he usually never had more than two.
“No, I don’t think…”
“You had a Manhattan, two cherries.”
This time Oliver does stumble and just manages to save himself from smashing into Connor’s back.
“Are you okay?”
Oliver had been so caught up he hadn’t notice they arrived on the third floor. “Sorry, I’m fine." A quick glance down the corridor tells him his roommate isn't ready for extra company yet. "But how did you…”
Connor gives him a sidelong glance as he fits his key into the lock. “I make it my business to know all the hot guys. Especially those living on my floor.”
Oliver can literally feel his face turning red when he looks down and all he can manage is, “h-hot?”
Connor gives him a smirk as he pushes the door open.
“Oh good.” He says, when it’s clear the room is empty.
“Where’s your roommate?”
“Probably at some frat party, which means he won’t be back tonight. I hope.”
“You guys don’t get along?”
“We get along better when we’re not always together. He’s in almost all my classes.” Connor makes a face and dumps his stuff.
Oliver isn't sure what he expected, but the room looks like any other dorm room: two beds and two desks against the walls, large books, papers and folders stacked and shelved both neatly and haphazardly, and a small kitchenette area with a microwave, toaster and mini-fridge. It looks almost identical to Oliver's except for the 40inch plasma screen taking up most of the back wall.
“Asher brought that.” Connor says, when he sees what Oliver is staring at. “He’s loaded. Daddy’s some big time judge or something.”
Oliver stands awkwardly as Connor clears some space.
“Want a drink or something?”
“No, thanks. I’m fine.”
“Want to watch something?”
“Oh, I-I don’t want to interfere with your plans," Oliver says quickly. "I’ve got my laptop so just do whatever you need to do.”
“Do you have a lot of work to get done?”
“Um, not really. We’ve just submitted a bunch of projects.”
“Good. I was planning on watching a movie.”
“Oh, okay. Which one?”
“Lord of the Rings.”
This time it’s Oliver raising his eyebrows. “Which one?” He repeats.
Connor shrugs. “All of them.”
“Extended?”
Connor almost looks offended. “Of course.”
Oliver doesn't feel as tense when Connor unwraps his scarf and chucks it to the side and then takes off his shoes while suggesting that Oliver make the popcorn while he sets up the movie. He finds out that Connor is in pre-law, hails from Grand Rapids, Michigan, has a nosy older sister (who just got engaged) and an even nosier mother. But even with all the eye-rolling Oliver can hear the love.
In turn, Oliver reveals he’s first-generation American - his parents immigrated from the Philippines where he’s got a myriad of aunts, uncles and cousins, and he wants to work with computers somehow.
The opening credits roll and they spend the next few hours trying to play a drinking game with beer and rules Connor finds on Google, but end up distracted as they debate on whether Legolas is in love with Aragorn or Gimli.
Connor knows way more LOTR trivia than necessary and is the one to run down to the vending machine for chocolate while Oliver puts on The Two Towers. They somehow end up from one person (Connor) being on the bed, and the other (Oliver) on a chair, with a bowl of popcorn between them, to sharing a single duvet on the bed, while they take turns biting into Mars bars.
Asher ends up stumbling in, thankfully alone, in the last half-hour of the second movie, in a very loud fashion and dancing in ways Oliver would rather never see again. Oliver rubs his eyes and says he should probably go and Connor looks reluctant but agrees, and they awkwardly say good night with Oliver’s laptop and pillow between them.
Oliver quietly lets himself back into 303, crawls into his bed and falls asleep with a smile on his face.
He doesn’t start to wake up until the sunlight is blinding him through closed eyelids and he rolls over to check the time and remembers all the events of last night. He’s smiling as he showers, shaves and rinses the stickiness out of his mouth, and still smiling when he puts his glasses on and reads the thank-you note Dom left on the back of their door.
He plugs his dead phone in the socket and grabs his keys and wallet in search for coffee, food and his roommate, in that order. He glances at 310 on his way to the stairs. Too soon, he thinks, even though he’s not sure what it’s too soon for. Dom pays for coffee and is thankfully too preoccupied with his own love life to notice if Oliver seemed distracted, otherwise he would have definitely interrogated the story out of him and tease him mercilessly. Oliver spends the remainder of the day catching himself looking out for a certain pre-law student in places he’s never seen him. And then mentally kicks himself because the whole night probably didn’t mean as much to Connor as it did to him.
In classic Oliver fashion, by the end of the weekend he’s dissected the entire night and come to the conclusion that the whole thing probably meant nothing more to Connor than two friends with a mutual appreciation for epic adventure-fantasy trilogies.
Monday morning Oliver is locking up behind him when he hears, “Hey, Oliver.”
Connor walks down the corridor, clearly just returning from a morning jog, smiling. All Oliver can think is that must have made some deal with the devil looking that good after exercise.
“There’s a Hobbit screening on,” Oliver blurts out when Connor is three-feet away. That wasn't meant to come out. “D-do you want to go?”
“Wednesday night?” Connor looks surprised but is still smiling, which Oliver finds tentatively encouraging.
“Yes. Um, I owe you for the popcorn and the chocolate.”
“Is this an I-owe-you thing or a date?”
“Err..." Oliver flounders.
“Because I already got tickets," Connor says, before Oliver can say "both?"
“Oh.” Oliver’s face falls.
“For us." Connor says, "To go on our second date.”
“Oh.”
“I was going to ask you with the tickets in hand so you couldn’t say no, since I already bought them.”
Oliver who hasn’t had the benefits of early morning exercise or caffeine struggles to keep up. “Wait, second date?”
“I was going to ask you tonight, at dinner, during out first date.”
“Dinner?” He echoes.
“I’d love to. See you at seven?”
Oliver shakes his head to clear it. “Okay." His smile practically beams rainbows and lights up his entire face like Connor's home at friggin' Christmas time.
Connor sighs. "I was going to save this for tonight too, but...” He grabs Oliver’s smiling face in his hands and kisses him. Hard.
It only takes Oliver the span of a gasp to recover before there's the dull thud of his bag falling to the ground as one hand curves around Connor's neck to bring him closer, and the other bunches the front of his shirt.
Connor swipes his tongue along Oliver's lips as he coaxes him open and deepens the kiss, one hand cradling Oliver's jaw while the other threads through his hair and pulls him in closer still.
“I wanted to do that six months ago.” Connor says when they finally break apart.
“We hadn’t started college yet.” Oliver says breathlessly.
“Five, whatever.”
Oliver's glasses are skewed and he probably has the dopiest expression on his face but he doesn't care. “What took you so long?”
Oliver can feel Connor's smile against his when he leans in again. Their second kiss is longer, softer, less desperate, but more everything else, and somehow ends with Oliver's back against the door.
“You know,” Connor mumbles in between kisses, "we never finished that movie."
Oliver just murmurs in agreement and tightens his fingers.
"We should... watch all three... before Hobbit."
"Mmm, definitely."
"Now? No, wait," he leans his forehead on Oliver's, "Dammit. Asher's still asleep."
Oliver's eyes lift to meet Connor's. "Dom's out."
It takes him two seconds to unlock the door again, another two to yank Connor in with him, and only one to lock it.