It starts by the coffee maker in those bleary hours of the early morning when everyone is still checking e-mails and sorting phone calls. The clients haven't yet decided that they need attention right now, the office is still filling up with paralegals and personal assistants, half of the partners still MIA.
It is a strange moment, looking up and seeing a face from the past, like a ghost or a bad dream, and yet somehow warmly welcome. A brief brush of hands as they both reach for the top cupboard where the sugar usually is.
"Out of all the firms, I wouldn't have ever imagined you to end up at Gibson Dunn." Conner sips at his coffee, watching his former classmate with some interest. He likes his coffee pure black, bitingly bitter.
Asher fusses with the cream and sugar, pedantically measuring out each. "Why?" He looks up, confused, clueless as always to the gibe.
"Just didn't think it would be your sort of place."
Asher shrugs. "It's fine.
They stand there in the kitchenette, not saying anything, the watery morning sunlight spilling through large windows and pooling on the floor between them. Connor realizes he hadn't spoken to Asher since first year. He hadn't spoken to anyone from Crim since first year. Except for that one time with Wes, a few months ago. Wes and Laurel were still in touch at the time, everyone else has drifted.
"I should go. They're giving me something pro bono today," Connor says finally.
"Alright. See ya, man."
Connor looks back before turning the corner, realizing Asher has said three times fewer words than he usually would have. Strange.
Asher's still stood at the counter, leaning back casually, but his eyes are downcast, studying the tiles. Cheeks flushed.
Connor doesn't have the time to analyze the look – but he remembers it.
Murrey v. Creigan is a messy case. Just the discovery takes months. Asher is assigned onto it two weeks in and shows up in Connor's corner of the box-stacked conference room with pizza. "Hey. You ah, mind if I join?" He's got that shit-eating grin.
"Whatever." Connor hardly looks up until he's done reading the file in his hands. "Are you sharing?" he nods at the pizza.
Asher holds it out. Connor reaches for a piece only to have the box snatched away. He raises an eyebrow and gets a smirk back. "Five bucks."
An eyeroll is all Asher deserves in response. "Fuck you," Connor adds for good measure.
"If you like."
He looks up sharply, meets dark eyes that are watching him with interest. That's different, Connor thinks. "I don't do straight boys." He reaches over and steals a slice from the pizza box.
Asher doesn't protest.
They're drunk.
Connor knows it's a bad idea to get drunk at the office but a day full of depositions and a memo due early next morning is enough to make anyone an alcoholic.
"People are morons," he says blearily, splitting what's left of the whiskey between his and Asher's glasses.
"Not Ms. Percy. She's just scared."
"Even her lawyer thinks she's a moron. Why give Creigan all that money if she already knew he would cheat her out of it later."
Asher rolls his eyes. "Obviously because she's in love with him."
Connor snorts. "He wasn't even fucking her."
Asher shrugs at that and downs his glass. "I forgot, you don't do boyfriends."
Connor winces. He'd tried. Twice. With Aiden and with Oliver. Aiden had left him, he'd left Oliver. Now, apparently, he's down to drinking hard liquor at work with Doucheface. Good going, Walsh.
Behind them, the city lights sparkle, the muted bleating of cars just barely audible through the sound-proof window frames. Connor's head is swimming. He can feel Asher beside him on the couch, their legs so close they could touch.
"Do you remember 1L?" Connor asks suddenly. "The night of the bonfire?"
"The night Professor Keating's husband disappeared?" Asher's eyebrows knit together. "Yea. You all were acting super weird. Michaela stole my fucking trophy." He laughs, a little sadly. "What were you all up to anyway?"
"We were at the bonfire." The line comes out automatically by now. Connor has repeated that story so many times that he almost believes it.
"Like fuck you were."
"What?" Connor is too tired. He needs a nap. His comprehension is gone, apparently, because there is no way Asher doesn't believe…
"You all were up to something. I don't know what it was, but… I'm not an idiot."
"No one said you are." Connor runs a hand through his hair tiredly. He's not going to reassure Asher of anything, but he also doesn't want a pity fest on his hands.
Asher gives him a long hard look, then stands. "I should go work."
Connor smirks and rolls his eyes. Straight boy is all offended. He falls back onto the sofa and watches Asher leave.
Despite everything, Connor wishes he'd stayed anyway.
It ends after the trial.
Or maybe it begins. Or one thing ends and another begins. Or it's the middle. Connor isn't sure.
Asher kisses him, frantic and overjoyed in the parkinglot of the courthouse. The look on his face after they draw back is that of a terrified puppy.
In the background, Connor can hear the babble of reporters, the clicks of cameras. Those aren't for them - the press is still interviewing the partners on the steps. The headlines will be big and bold tomorrow, emblazoned over the front pages of every newspaper. The biggest corporate take-down in decades. A turning of the tide. Maybe he and Asher will even get a mention, somewhere in the footnotes or hidden in the wall of text, the middle of the article that no one reads.
"Why did you do that?" Connor could hear the hoarseness in his own voice.
"I-I don't know. I've wanted to do it for a while. Probably since first year, but definitely since that morning in the kitchen...at the office..." He starts to slowly back away.
Connor fixes his tie. Grabs Asher's arm and twists it just slightly so the other man doesn't dare run away.
Then kisses him back.