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Connor was- god, he was pissed. Another kid had a medical emergency that they couldn’t immediately fix, each new shipment of whollies seemed to be getting smaller, yet somehow their available bed amounts were shrinking, and Risa had gone off to meet with the ADR- fuck, don’t even get him started about the trouble he’s been having with the ADR. He can’t believe he used to view these guys as all-knowing saviors, they couldn’t navigate their way out of their own asses if they tried. Not without his constant assistance, at least.
Honestly, if he thought hard enough about his situation (which, he obviously means if he spoke to Risa about his situation), it would be easier to find out that he was not actually pissed, he was stressed out of his mind. Problems kept piling and piling, and yes, while he had plenty of help, with his coded letters to Lev, Risa and his’ afternoon talks, Trace’s vague words of advice, Hayden’s annoying yet comforting tendency to never shut up. Hell, even the Admiral would likely have something that could help, but it wasn’t like Connor would ever ask in the first place. Even if he were actively dying, and someone was nearby to help, he would spit in their face and start throwing punches in Lady Death’s direction.
So, how did he find himself awkwardly standing outside of the ComBom at 3 am, tugging at the ends of his hair and hoping that Hayden would be inside? Well, there are few, very few instances in which Connor “That Prideful Fucker” Lassiter will seek help. And in this instance, it was because his stupid fucking coffee machine broke. No, correction, Connor broke his stupid fucking coffee machine.
Before he ended up outside Hayden’s jet, looking like a lost, sad dog, he tried to calm himself down. He had turned on the TV, trying to get some white noise going through his jet so he could maybe avoid his anger by sleeping, but he couldn’t handle sleeping in his bed alone, at least not now, and no one came into Connor’s jet, that was a known fact. So he tried to sleep on the couch. But the odd positioning caused the damaged nerves in his back and side to flare up. Connor decided ‘Fuck it, fine! No sleep for me.” so he made a cup of coffee, or, tried to. Roland’s and his own hand shook, and water splashed down the front of his gray shirt, and the TV was too fucking loud- and he threw the mug, breaking it and the cheaply made coffee machine.
Connor climbed the steps to the ComBom, hesitating. He wouldn’t technically be asking for help, he reasoned, he didn’t want help cleaning up the shattered pieces of mug on his floor, or help fixing the strangely dented coffee machine, or anything like that. He just wanted- well, he didn’t know what he wanted. But it definitely had to do with being in the general proximity of one Hayden Upchurch. If he wasn’t asking for help, his pride couldn’t be hurt, easy as that. Yeah, that totally made sense. With that, he knocked three times upon the metal surface. A muffled “Shit-fuck,” and loud fumbling came from the other side. Was Hayden awake already? Doing what? Did he- god, did he have someone over? A low, poisonous thrum of jealousy spiked in his stomach. He couldn’t tell why, but that made him just a tad angrier, made his skin feel just a little worse against the Graveyard’s air.
Either way, though, Hayden eventually swung upon the door, irritation flashing across his face before being quickly replaced by surprise and concern. “Jesus, it’s 3 in the fucking- Wh- Connor? What happened, are you okay?” Connor didn’t plan on telling the other that he may have cried in response to the shattered mug, but it looked like he’d already figured that part out. Hayden cupped his face with both hands, inspecting him with worry. That was something he would never get used to with Hayden, how touchy he was. It wasn’t that Connor was uncomfortable with it, he was just… very unused to touch that wasn’t with the intent to harm. With anyone else, he would shrug them off and glare at them for getting within his personal bubble, but, with Hayden and Risa, it was different. A lot different. When Hayden rested a hand on his back, he would lean into it like a cat, sighing in something like content. When Risa would run her thumb over the knuckles of Roland’s arm, although it made him nervous, he relished in the feeling. When he would return to his jet once the day had finished, he would ghost his own scarred fingers across those places, hoping to get the feeling to return, but it was never enough. Connor was greedy, eating up any affection he could get and hoarding it all into the depths of his mind, for no one to touch or glance upon except him.
Plus, the close proximity allowed him to see how goddamn red Hayden’s eyes were. At least now he knew why he was up so late. Hayden ushered him inside, stumbling just a bit as he slammed the door back shut and collapsed on the little gray couch in front of the mountain of collected technology that made the ComBom, well, the ComBom. “Jesus, dude. I thought you were Bam.” The blonde rearranged the lumpy pillows on the couch to give Connor a space next to himself.
“Does Bam usually come by this late?” He didn’t mean for it to come out in a venomous sort of bark, but it definitely did. Hayden gave him a look, with his eyebrows knit together and lips pursed, one that he always gave when Connor was getting too mean. He mustered up a halfhearted little scoff to act like he was unaffected, but he did feel bad. He felt very bad. God, he was being mean to Hayden now? He was such a dick, he should probably leave and just try to sleep in his shitty, empty bed. Seeming to sense his inner turmoil, Hayden’s look eventually softened, and he let out a little sigh, patting the space next to him. “C’mon, come tell all your problems to Daddy Hayden.” He giggled when the dark haired boy rolled his eyes. He still trudged over, though, and still sat heavily next to the other with a huff.
“If you ever call yourself ‘daddy’ again, I will punch you in the face.” Connor leaned against the other’s shoulder, huffing out yet another sigh. That only caused Hayden to giggle more, reaching a hand up to bury his fingers in Connor’s hair and fumbling for something on the side table with the other. “Oh, shut up, you’d love to call me daddy, wouldn’t you?” He spoke with a smile, giving a little cheer once he’d finally retrieved what he was looking for- a joint. Oh joy. Completely ignoring Connor’s shocked expression- which wasn’t even directed at the weed- he took a long drag, closing his eyes and leaning back. He could only stare, finding the display strangely attractive. It reminded him of when he first met Ariana. He had stolen a half empty pack of cigarettes from a woman on the street, and attempted smoking them every time he was in her vicinity. One of his friends told him that girls thought it was attractive when guys smoked, and he believed him, even if he didn’t see the logic behind it. Maybe he did now. Or maybe Hayden just always managed to make the most mundane things look attractive. Or, even more likely, maybe Connor was just a little obsessed with anything Hayden did.
Hayden glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, his usual smirk spreading across his face once again as he raised the hand holding the joint. “You want some?” He… sort of did. Contrary to what his parents believed, Connor had never done drugs. He’d of course been exposed to them before, he went to a public high school, but he’d always been a little too untrusting of the company he kept to ever feel safe enough to get high. It was for similar reasons the only time he got drunk was in the safety of his home, where he knew exactly what source the liquor in his dad’s ‘secret’ cabinet had come from. “Where did you even find-”
“Jeeves. Turns out he’s a real pothead.” Hayden smiled again, wide and toothy. “No, no, not actually. Well, not entirely. One of the new kids, Jeeves made friends with her, and apparently she brought a shit ton of weed stashed in her fuckin’- bra or something, I dunno. Who cares, I wanna see what you’re like when you’re high.” Connor stared at the joint, apparently taking too long to decide as Hayden pulled him a little bit forward, and putting it to his lips. He knew how to smoke. He hadn’t done it in years, and never with actual weed, but he knew how. It couldn’t be that much different, could it? He drew in a breath, holding it as Hayden pulled the joint away from him, and letting it out slowly in a puff of smoke. He felt a horrible, burning need to cough his lungs out, but he refused to make himself look stupid in front of the other. He turned away, his eyes watering just a bit as he let out aborted, muffled coughs. Hayden only giggled harder.
Maybe he was imagining it, but Connor thought he could already feel a buzz. And, now, it actually made sense to him why people referred to the sensation as a buzz. It felt like a low, static sort of pressure in the back of his head, pressing all around himself and making his body warm and fuzzy. It was more pleasant than he expected. He didn’t actually know what he expected, and he wasn’t about to confess how he’d never gotten high before, so he settled on scooting even closer to Hayden, waiting for the joint to be raised up to his lips again.
Hayden had his arm around Connor’s shoulder now (when did that happen?), hand still stroking gently through his hair, with Connor half over his lap and leaned into his chest. He’d near completely forgotten why he was so upset before, too focused on the wonderful experience that was having Hayden’s silent attention trained solely on himself. He rarely got quiet moments like this, and even- okay, especially- through the haze of a warm, lazy high, it was nice. It felt intimate, almost, being so close to the blonde without the pressure to speak, to put on his usual leader performance that he did when anyone else was near. It always felt like this when he was alone with Hayden, anyways.
Hayden tugged him forwards again, causing Connor to clumsily fall into his lap. That didn’t seem to deter Hayden from whatever he had planned, though, manhandling the other into a sitting position in his lap. Oh, good lord, he was straddling Hayden. How is he supposed to react to this. He might combust. With how red his cheeks definitely were, he actually felt like he might. Hayden smirked up at his gawking face, his gorgeous eyes crinkling at the corners as he shook his head. He grabbed the collar of Connor’s shirt- oh, hey, it had finally dried- and tugged him down to Hayden’s level. “God, you’re such an idiot.” He whispered against his lips, before dragging him somehow closer to kiss him. Kiss him? Holy fuck, he was kissing Hayden. Hayden kissed him. Hayden IS kissing him, and he hasn’t reacted yet. Connor finally pressed them further together, relishing in the little pleased noise that came from Hayden.
Is he dead? He might be dead, because never in a million years did he think Hayden would kiss him. But he was, and he was holding Connor so close, gripping his hips and smiling into the kiss. It left his face warmer, his head swimming with the sensation, his eyelids heavy and a bone deep need that he couldn’t quite place. Hayden pulled back first, giggling in the stupid, adorable way he always did, when Connor tried to follow and kiss him again. He made a frustrated sound when a hand tangled in his hair held him from moving forward, but softened when Hayden’s other hand left his hip and cupped his cheek, palm brushing gently over his scars. “You’re so sweet like this, baby.” Baby? Connor felt himself melting, slouching over the other. He really liked that. He didn’t know that before, Ariana hadn’t really called him pet names, but wow. He really liked being called baby. He almost thought about asking why Hayden called him that in the first place, but figured he didn’t want to, just in case he somehow assumed that his asking meant that he didn’t like it, and he wouldn’t call him baby again, which Connor was sure he wouldn’t be able to handle.
“‘M not sweet,” He eventually huffed with a pout. His whining was cut off with a little yelp, though, when Hayden tugged his head back farther by his hair. He made no effort to move out of his grasp, especially once his lips returned, this time laving over his throat. He kissed once over where Connor’s adam’s apple would’ve been, slowly trailing up over the side of his neck, and mouthing over his pulse point. Connor’s hands moved up to grab at Hayden’s shoulders, gripping uselessly at the fabric covering them. He finally released the other’s hair, and Connor was able to kiss him deeply again. He made a louder, more frustrated noise when Hayden pulled him back yet again, wriggling his hips around.
Hayden grabbed his waist, stopping his movement and shaking his head with a little smile. “You’re the sweetest, Connor. C’mon.” He spoke so quietly, Connor had to strain just barely to hear him. He couldn’t fight what he said, when his words were so heavy and tender and truthful. He was so tired, now, all his anger gone and replaced with such a sweet, overwhelming feeling of quiet love. He didn’t expect that, but it was more than welcome. He didn’t often get the chance for peace like this. Maybe he should come to Hayden more, allow himself to fall into that plush, warm emotion.
Connor was pulled into a hug, Hayden twisting their bodies so they laid on the couch together, Connor’s back exposed to the air and causing Hayden to be crowded into the lumpy surface. Their limbs tangled, their bodies pressed against one another perfectly, and Connor was distinctly aware of how they fit like a puzzle piece. Hayden yawned loudly and nuzzled into his dark hair with a content smile. He wished he could stay in the ComBom forever. He clung to Hayden a little tighter, Roland’s arm holding to him like a lifeline. At least he got to stay here tonight.