Connor comes in, the usual bag of takeaway replaced with groceries.

"I thought I could make dinner," he says and Oliver smiles. Ever since Connor apologised, he's been taking little steps to show Oliver he can have a "mature adult relationship". Oliver feels like maybe he should reassure Connor that he doesn't need this many flowers, chocolates and home-cooked meals, but he's also not entirely sure he wants to. Connor is a surprisingly good cook.

As Connor starts cutting vegetables, Oliver remembers he still has to ask him about the invitation, one of those annoying ones that turned into a glitter explosion when you opened it. Apparently he hadn't managed to wipe all the glitter off his face, because Connor was staring suspiciously at his neck.

"Why are you sparkling? Did you go to a strip club? Did you go to a strip club without me?"

"No! It's from a wedding invitation. That's something I have to ask you about, actually."

Connor's face turns into a mixture of confusion and panic and he tries to hide it, terribly.

"Relax, Connor that's not what I—it's for my sister's wedding."

"Ah," he says, visibly relieved.

"She's invited me, and asked if I could bring a plus one. So if you want to—but I mean, you don't have to – I get it, it's awkward for you, we've only technically been dating a few months, I can tell her no if it's weird—"

"I would love to," says Connor.

Oliver isn't sure if Connor actually wants to, or if he's doing it because he thinks it's one of those things good boyfriends "have" to do. He also isn't sure how to word this without making Connor indignant and a little hurt.

"Great," he says finally.

As the wedding gets closer, Connor seems to obsess more and more.

"So, you think the jacket looks better with the blue tie?" he asks for the fiftieth time.

"I think you look incredible," Oliver says, trying to end the conversation with a raised eyebrow and lilting smile. "You might even upstage the groom."

Panic dawns on Connor's face. "Well then I definitely need to lose the tie," he says as Oliver resists the urge to bury his face in a pillow.

"Why are you so worried?"

"I'm not worried."

""You know you can back out of this if it's too much."

"It's not that."

"Then what—"

"What if your family hates me?" interrupts Connor.

"That's what you're worried about? Connor, they won't hate you."

"Oliver, I'm kind of an asshole, they might hate me."

"Kind of?" asks Oliver, with a teasing smile and Connor rolls his eyes.

"You're not an asshole, just be your usual charming self."

"…You want me to use bedroom eyes on your parents?"

"No, Connor! You do know you can be charismatic to someone without literally charming their pants off?"

Connor looks at Oliver helplessly. Oliver sighs.

"You know, like when you come to my door with a smile and puppy-dog eyes."

Connor looks a little flattered and a little embarrassed, like he's not sure whether to tease Oliver or go on the defensive.

"I don't do puppy dog eyes."

"You're literally doing them right now."

"No, this is my mildly concerned face."

"Really? Your mildly—you know what, fine, show my parents your mildly concerned face then."

"Oliver, that is the worst advice I've ever heard."

"Then just be yourself."

"Nope, I was wrong, that's the worst."

"Will you stop freaking out and just come to bed? I can think of a couple of ways I can distract you."

"Can you?" says Connor, looking a little distracted already, as he slips into bed and kisses Oliver.