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"Oliver! Finally, come in, come in!" Gemma says cheerfully as Oliver steps inside the Walsh home for Connor's birthday dinner.
"You brought lumpia!" Gemma points to the tray Oliver's holding with both hands.
"Of course I did! It's basically tradition at this point," Oliver replies, handing her the tray. She gratefully takes it and brings it to the dining table as Oliver carefully takes his shoes off by the door.
"Where's Connor?" he asks, shrugging off his coat and hanging it on the coat rack.
"Oh, he's up in his room," she says before looking over her shoulders, checking if her parents are out of earshot.
She then walks to him, lowering her voice and saying, "Don't keep your boyfriend waiting. He's pretty excited to see you." She smiles teasingly.
"I'm— sorry, what?" Oliver splutters. Gemma laughs heartily.
"You thought I, of all people, wouldn't notice? I've been watching you two pine over each other for years now — I mean, it's about time you two got together!" She bumps her shoulder to Oliver's. He's still processing the shock to react normally.
"But… Pam? And— and, Jeff?"
"Don't worry. I know Connor said you guys weren't ready to tell anyone yet. You can trust me," Gemma says warmly.
"Wait, did Connor tell you? I mean, about us?" Oliver asks.
"Connor? Hell no! He's too much of a pussy for that. I figured it out on my own. I'm not blind, Oliver," she says.
"Oh," Oliver says, laughing — a bit more relaxed now.
"Come on. Mom and Dad are almost finished with preparing dinner, but you should let Connor know you're here. You've kept him waiting long enough," she says, pushing him towards the staircase.
He's already up a few steps when Gemma's hand appears on his shoulder and she's whispering into his ear.
"Also, since it's almost dinnertime, can you like, keep it in your pants? Thanks," she says frankly, an amused smile spreading across her face as she watches Oliver's reaction. She turns around and walks off as Oliver starts to speak.
"I— What— Gemma! No! We're not— I'm not—" Oliver stutters, cheeks flaming red.
"I can't hear you!" she says from the living room.
Oliver laughs then goes up the staircase to Connor's room.
Oliver knocks on Connor's door, yelling, "Connor, it's me!"
He hears immediate shuffling before the door suddenly opens, showing a grinning Connor. He mirrors that smile as Connor pulls him inside and shuts the door behind him, then loses it as Connor kisses it away, chaste and tender.
"Hi," Connor says softly when they part.
"Happy birthday," Oliver replies, just as quiet.
"Thanks," Connor says, smiling. He leaves a peck on Oliver's lips before taking his hand and leading him to sit beside him on the edge of his bed.
"So, how are you feeling?" Oliver asks, sitting down and inching closer to Connor, their sides pressed against each other.
"I don't know. Birthdays aren't that special for me. Just a fancier dinner than usual. There's cake and gifts too, but other than that it's not actually as big of a deal as we make it," Connor says simply. "But…" he adds before Oliver can reply. "Because you're here," he drops his hand on Oliver's knee, "it feels a lot more special." He squeezes his knee then looks at Oliver, smiling softly.
Oliver giggles, taking Connor's hand from his knee and intertwining their fingers.
"Wow, that's really cheesy," he tells Connor, gazing into his eyes. Connor chuckles.
"Yeah, it is," he whispers as he slowly leans closer to Oliver, making their lips meet in another kiss.
It's slower, sweeter, more intimate — taking its time and learning its rhythm, speaking its deeper intentions.
It lasts a few more moments until Oliver leans back just as their noses brush and their lips almost meet again.
"What?" Connor asks confusedly, slowly opening his eyes.
"It's just," Oliver laughs, "Gemma told me— or maybe she was telling us— whatever. She said to keep it in our pants," he says while laughing, Connor joining in soon enough.
"Oh my god, she told you that?" Connor says in disbelief, cackling even louder. "She's out of her fucking mind!"
"And I couldn't even reply! I was just at such a loss of words, I didn't know what to say," Oliver remarks, still laughing with Connor.
"I bet you were," Connor says, which earns him a playful punch to the shoulder. "God, remind me never to let her talk to my boyfriend again," he says, his laugh fading into a grin.
"Don't you even dare. I love Gemma. She's sweet," Oliver says.
"She has her moments, yeah," Connor replies jokingly.
Oliver shakes his head and bumps his shoulder to Connor's, smiling.
"How'd she find out, anyway?"
"I seriously don't know how she figured it out. It was like one, maybe two weeks after we got together and she was like, 'Are you and Oliver finally together?' And obviously, I couldn't lie to her so I said yes then told her we weren't telling anybody yet—"
"And you didn't think to tell me?" Oliver interrupts. Connor stops himself, his expression shifting.
"Oh, shit. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry! Oh my god, I didn't even think that," Connor says, worried.
"Connor. Connor! It's okay. It's fine, it's not a big deal. Just, maybe tell me next time, okay?" Oliver assures Connor, smiling.
"Yeah. Yeah, I will," Connor squeezes Oliver's hand. Oliver squeezes back.
"So where were we?"
"Right, so I told Gemma…"
* * *
Connor and Oliver come down when Pam shouts from the dining table that it's dinnertime, sitting next to each other and moving their chairs as close as possible without being suspicious. Gemma's face is trying to suppress a smirk, to which Connor glares at her. She chuckles to herself and doesn't say a word.
They have dinner like they always do, the air just a little bit more cheerful, the food a little fancier than usual, and Connor and Oliver a little more in love than before.
Pam is mostly the one leading the conversations, switching the focus from person to person every once in a while.
Connor steals glances at Oliver, who smiles at him every time he catches him. Oliver, in turn, bumps his knee to Connor's every so often to show him some sort of affection. Connor instinctively smiles at the action, his heart swelling.
When they get the idea to pry their eyes off of each other, they find Gemma's amused face staring at them.
Connor raises his eyebrow at her.
She points at them both then with that same pointing finger, she motions as if she's gagging herself.
Oliver giggles, Connor scoffs, and Gemma laughs. Pam turns her head at Gemma's laughter and gets curious.
"What's funny?" she asks innocently.
"Nothing, Mom. Are we still getting the cake out? I don't think I can take anymore sweetness tonight," Gemma looks pointedly at Connor and Oliver who are looking at her wide-eyed.
"Oh, right, the cake! Thank God you reminded me!" Pam stands up and rushes to the refrigerator, soon coming back to the dining table with a cake and a lighter in hand.
"Oliver?" Pam says expectantly as she lights the candles.
"Already on it," Oliver answers, patting Connor's knee before standing up and sitting on the upright piano near the living room.
Pam, Jeff, and Gemma stand up as the introductory notes of the Happy Birthday song sounds from the piano. The four of them sing the song, all of them except Oliver clapping, while Connor sits and smiles awkwardly. He bites his lips, nodding along as the song goes on.
It ends after a minute (which felt like an eternity to Connor), Jeff now getting out the camera to film Connor blowing his candles out. Oliver turns around to see it, his eyes meeting Connor's from across the room. They share a smile, then Connor blows.
They all whoop in celebration as Pam cuts the cake and serves everyone slices.
"Oh, wait! Before you stand up, Oliver, go sing us something! Pretty please?" Pam asks him sweetly, giving him her best puppy eyes. Jeff nods and smiles encouragingly beside her.
"Yes, totally! Please, Ollie?" Gemma says.
"Come on, guys. Oliver wants to eat cake too—" Connor tries to say.
"It's fine, Connor. Another song isn't gonna hurt anyone," Oliver says kindly before turning back to face the piano.
It's a few seconds before he starts playing, the fiery introduction of Dean Martin's "Sway" resonating throughout the room.
Pam grins in recognition, pulling Jeff and slowly moving her shoulders as if inviting him to dance. He hesitantly indulges her, moving albeit minimally to the music. (At the dining table, Connor and Gemma want to be swallowed by the earth from embarrassment.)
The moment Oliver starts to sing, Connor immediately melts into a puddle. His voice is deep, smooth, and due to the nature of the song, sultry.
He looks over his shoulder every once in a while, trying to see the reaction he's getting out of Connor. The smirk that he doesn't even try to hide makes Connor melt even more.
Gemma nudges her brother to tease him. He nudges back, but there's no fight to it because he's too entranced by Oliver.
In the few minutes Oliver plays, the Walsh household is filled with so much joy and love, and Connor feels like he wouldn't ask for anything more.
The party dwindles down after the song, each of them handing Connor their gifts while they keep eating cake. Pam's given him new clothes (a dress shirt and some proper slacks), Jeff got him sneakers (not really stylish but obviously expensive), and Gemma a book he's been eyeing but never bothered to buy. It makes Connor feel loved.
Oliver tells everyone he forgot his at home and makes an act of promising Connor to give it the next time he sees him, although Connor knows that it isn't actually the case.
After the gift-giving, Pam starts to clean up, with Oliver offering to help with the dishes.
"Aw, you're always such a sweetheart," Pam says, patting Oliver's cheek. "I'd normally take you up on that, but it's Connor's birthday and he seems…" she motions her head over Oliver's shoulder. Oliver turns his head and sees Connor rocking back and forth on his heels waiting for Oliver. "...Quite eager to bring you to his room," she concludes.
Oliver tenses at her phrasing, nervously laughing.
"You boys hang out, okay? I'll be fine. Thank you for the offer, Oliver," she smiles, putting a hand on his shoulder.
He looks back again at Connor, who somehow seems even more agitated than before, and gives Pam a half-gracious, half-apologetic smile before following Connor to his room.
"Okay, I actually have your gift right now, I just didn't want to give it in front of them," Oliver starts.
"Called it," Connor says.
"Did you now?" Oliver retorts, getting a drawstring pouch from his pocket and handing it to Connor.
He watches his reaction as he pulls out a thin silver chain. In the middle of it, there's a rectangle with an engraving. "Oliver's" it said.
Connor looks up at Oliver, speechless.
"It's a matching thing," Oliver explains.
"Are you wearing one?" Connor asks, still in a daze.
"Yeah," Oliver pulls up the pants on his left leg, showing a similar silver chain wrapped around his ankle. Connor doesn't need to see it to know the engraving on his. (Connor's.)
"It's a little bit more subtle than a bracelet," Oliver pauses. "...Do you like it?" he asks nervously.
"Are you serious? Of course I do! I, I—" Connor never finishes his sentence, instead crashing his lips on Oliver's. He's taken by surprise, but immediately reciprocates, cradling Connor's face in his hands. The kiss has no intention but to show Oliver his gratitude and his happiness, gentle lips pressing onto his, telling him the things words can't tell.
When they part, their eyes shine brighter than the stars, their smiles impossibly wide.
"Do you want me to put it on?" Oliver gestures to the anklet. Connor nods, the smile still not leaving his face.
Oliver kneels down to put the anklet on Connor. It would've been romantic if not for the fact that Connor's foot is right in front of his face, but he won't comment on that.
It doesn't take any more than a few seconds until Oliver is standing back up. They stare at their matching anklets for a few moments, their feet instinctively moving closer to each other. They play footsie (literally) for one second before they both burst out laughing.
"This is ridiculous!" Oliver says in between laughs.
"I know!" Connor puts a hand to his stomach. "I didn't know you were into feet, Ollie," he teases. He gets hit by a pillow.
"I'm not!" Oliver says, still laughing.
The laughter goes on for a while, fading for a moment then suddenly starting again, the cycle repeating until their stomachs hurt too much.
Their eyes meet mid-laugh, and it hits Oliver.
Right now, he feels really happy. And loved.
"I think I love you," he suddenly blurts out. "Is that okay?"
Connor's grin shifts into something softer.
"I love you too, so I think it is," he replies. A warmth spreads in Oliver's chest.
"I can't believe it took us so long to get here," he says.
"Not my fault you never told me you liked me," Connor teases.
"Hey! You never told me either," Oliver frowns.
"Well. As long as we're here now," Connor says, stepping closer to Oliver and wrapping his arms around his neck. Oliver doesn't reply, instead letting their lips meet halfway.
He thinks he'll never get tired of kissing Connor.
The arms around his neck tighten, their bodies pressed together. As their lips keep chasing for touch, his hands roam around Connor's back, his waist, his chest—
"Connor! I—"
Oliver shoves Connor as the door to his room slams open. He immediately places a hand on his waist while the other one covers his mouth as he looks around the room, everywhere but at Gemma.
Connor stumbles back but catches himself in time, putting his hands in his pockets and biting his lips.
"Have you ever heard about knocking?" he says a few seconds too late, slightly annoyed.
Gemma looks at the both of them, a shit-eating grin forming on her face.
"You two were just making out, weren't you?" she narrows her eyes.
"I invoke my Fifth Amendment rights," Connor says, straightening his back.
Gemma rolls her eyes while Oliver chuckles.
"Oh, do we have something to say, Mr. Hampton?" Gemma cocks her eyebrow at him.
"Nope," Oliver shakes his head, raising his two hands up in defeat.
"Whatever. As long as you two can keep your hands to yourself on the way there, then we're fine. As I was about to say, Mom and Dad already gave us the go-ahead, so let's go," Gemma says, already walking away. Oliver's still looking confusedly at Connor when Gemma comes back and says, "Now. So you two lovebirds have more time together."
* * *
Oliver and Connor sit beside each other, the sand beneath their feet as they watch the waves crashing on the shore. Connor's head lays on Oliver's shoulder, their hands entwined. Aside from the sound of the water and their voices, it's quiet.
"It's beautiful here," Oliver says.
"I know," Connor says, admiring the area, the two of them alone. "You should thank Gemma. She was the one who offered to drive us somewhere a bit farther, and definitely better than my room."
After a soft "okay" from him, Oliver doesn't really say anything after that — just basking in the peace of the night.
They're alone, surrounded by darkness and silence, but Connor is there, warm and solid and by his side, his anklet reflecting the moonlight, and really, this is all he wants.
(Love. Free and eternal.)
* * *
Years pass and the days fly by. The anklets are taken off, hidden somewhere safe.
Now in their place are silver rings, the same engravings on the interior, promising each other love. Free and eternal.