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Connor couldn't believe his luck. He was stuck, in a closet, with Will Halstead. He smelled good, and his body heat was warming Connor's skin where goosebumps were starting to form. They'd been caught in a stampede of upset families looking for their loved ones, and Will had caught Connor's arm to pull him to safety off to the side. Unfortunately, the crowd had surged and they'd been knocked into an open janitor's closet, and the door had been swung shut to get it out of the way. And the inside of the closet didn't have a door handle. So, they were trapped. It was hell, because Will was a straight man, and Connor was violently bisexual and unbelievably attracted to Will Halstead's everything. It was his everything, too: his eyes, his chest, his hands while he worked with a patient, the width of his shoulders, the slender line of his hips, his stupidly long legs, all the beautiful pieces that made Will a strong Irish man with freckles dotting his cheeks and shoulders, his dark red hair waves against the background. All of it. But not just his physical body, either. It was his laugh, too, and his patience, his care, his open heart bared to his scared patients, the people who needed him the most. He was a good person, and Connor hated that he was everything good and hot and magnetic when he was a straight man.
And he was pressed close enough to Connor that he could smell the scent of his skin, and could see the individual eyelashes framing his dark eyes. They were so dark, and so endless, and Connor never wanted to look away.
"This seems like a safety hazard," Connor said, running his hand over the smooth door where there was not a handle to grab. "Why would there not be a handle on the inside?"
He didn't do well in small spaces. He was trying to force his breath even, but it was hard when there was a small voice in the back of his mind saying that there wasn't enough air in the closet for two grown men to last long in.
"Connor," Will said, and his voice was calm, relaxed, unbothered by their predicament. "You're alright. We'll get it sorted out."
"How? Our phones are at the nurse's station, and there's no one in this hallway to hear us. We could be here for hours, days. We could die in here, and –"
There were hands on his face, and they were gentle, and warm, and there was a wave of calming sensation washing over him.
"Hey," Will said. "Hey, take a breath. I will get us out of here. You can do anything with enough persistence and a paperclip, and I'm nothing if not persistent."
"A paperclip?"
"Mmmhm," Will said, and his face brightened even more with a full summer smile that could have lit up the entire room.
"How the hell are you going to get us out of here with a paperclip ?"
"I'll show you," Will said, and he drew a handful from his pocket. "I fidget with these all day, so I've gotten really good at making them do what I want."
"You fidget?"
"All the time. It's a coping mechanism thing a therapist taught me, how to channel any nervous or extra energy into something constructive instead of destructive."
"Sure. I guess, I just don't understand how you're going to Macgyver your way out of here."
"How about this, if I don't, you have bragging rights over me for a month? And I'll do all your paperwork."
"And if you do?"
Will grinned and said, "you go out on a date with me."
Connor blinked.
"What?"
"Is that okay? If not, it won't –"
"I don't get it. You're straight."
Will let out a sound not quite sane and said, "oh, god no. No. Not even once. Where did you get that idea?"
"You flirt with Natalie every day."
"Platonically, sure. She's my friend, and she knows I'm gay, so –"
Will Halstead was gay. Will Halstead was gay , and he wanted nothing more than to scream. He'd wasted so much time pining for a straight man who wasn't even actually straight, and here he was, in a dark, secluded place where no one would find them for a bit.
"Jesus Christ," Connor breathed, reaching forward to grab his scrub top, and pulling Will sharply into his arms. He kissed Will, standing on his toes so they were more on even level. He'd loved their height difference, so kissing Will in this space like this was perfect, and he sighed. He sighed because it was everything he'd ever wanted it to be, even if he was pointedly ignoring the where of it all. Will kissed back just as aggressively, hard and hungry, the greedy plunge of tongue into his mouth, and then the press of his body back into a wall. There was a thigh in between his own, and he was gasping. He was groaning. He was lost in it all, and he could have stayed there forever.
There was a noise in the hall. There was another, and another, and another, shouting, yelling, a door crashing open, and Will pulled away to look at the door beside them untouched. He could hear Maggie's voice, Maggie and then Ms. Goodwin yelling for something.
"Fuck," Will said, and he pressed another kiss into Connor's lips, soft and sweet, quick, there and then gone. "Can I still get that date?"
"You can have every single date, you incredible idiot," Connor said, and he pulled Will close again. "But, what if, what if we don't call out to them just yet? I'm not done with you yet, and you've got some extra energy to get out. Might as well do something constructive with it, right?"