At first, Stephen hadn't known quite where Connor belonged in their little group. Cutter was the leader that gave them all direction, Abby was the spirit that gave them all a conscience, and Stephen himself was the muscle that kept them all on track. If anything, Connor would have been the brains, but Stephen had thought at the time that Cutter was all the brains they needed. The man was a genius, and eccentric enough to fill the part, so he just hadn't thought there was any need for Connor in the place.

And it wasn't just that he didn't fit into the categories Stephen made in his head. On missions when they were called out for the anomalies, it was like Connor didn't know where to put himself. He was always in the wrong place at the wrong time, always getting in the way. It annoyed the hell out of Stephen for the first bit. He was used to everything – everyone – having their proper place, and Connor did not.

It wasn't until the arthropleura and all those giant bloody spidersthat Stephen started to realize he wasn't just an obstacle. He wasn't some blithering little college boy without a clue. For the first time, it had occurred to him that, beneath all the social awkwardness and the eclectic fashion, he really was sort of brilliant. Those archives he'd put together...sure he made the odd mistake, but that he'd managed to pull at that together anyhow was amazing by its own right.

That had been a little like a flood gate: the one revelation had made way for others. He was clever, sure enough. Beyond that, though, he was...actually sort of easy on the eyes. He was slight, Stephen figured, though the layers of too-big clothes he tended to wear didn't make him look it. Stephen had seen his thin wrists and caught enough glimpses of his hips and the v-lines of muscle at his pelvis when his shirt rode up to know he was slim, but muscled. And his face...it was neither round nor too sharp. His eyes had a downward slope that would've made him look drowsy had it not been for the constant spark in them.

Sure enough, he was clever and dishy to boot. He had more quirks about him, though... The way he latched onto something and rambled about it until people were about ready to kill him. His knack for throwing out some random fact that was only sort of relevant. The way he always found the corner of the room to sit in and couldn't seem to go even an hour or two without his beloved laptop. The way he fidgeted when he was nervous. The way he bit his lip when he was concentrating...

Rather than getting annoyed by all the quirks, though, like he normally did with everyone else – Abby's tendency to dance for no apparent reason drove him up the wall, and Cutter did this odd thing when he was talking about something he was happy about that made Stephen want to kill something – he actually thought Connor's oddities were a little charming. Hell, all of Connor was charming, in a peculiar sort of way.

By the time the hesperornis fiasco came about, Stephen was pretty bloody taken with him. It didn't so much bother him, either, that the one that got his pulse pounding was another bloke. He'd never cared much about that sort of stuff; it seemed trivial, and he believed wholeheartedly in going for what he wanted.

Problem being, what he wanted happened to want something else. Connor'd been about as subtle as a car crash on his feelings for Abby. That said, he wasn't altogether ready to throw in the towel. What Connor had for Abby wasn't much more than a schoolboy crush.

Still, he decided to be delicate about it. Like tracking, there were times when it was best to just stay back and read the signs. Connor was such a nervous bloke, always jumping when people reached for him too fast or shying away from close encounters. Stephen figured that was as good a place as any to start, and so he did. Just touching him...getting him to where he didn't start every time Stephen walked by him. They started small: the brush of a hand when they exchanged papers, the graze of a shoulder as they passed in the hall.

Just to remind him he belonged.

Things were going well on that front for a while, actually. Connor had only been startled into dropping an armful of papers twice that week, and he'd only knocked over his drink once when Stephen slid in next to him at the booth of the restaurant.

But then – a hitch. He'd gone to go fetch Abby to bring her in. Helen was talking and Cutter said he wanted them all there. He would get Abby, and then he'd track down Connor.

Of course, when he'd walked into Abby's apartment, he hadn't been expecting to take out two birds with the one stone. On the downside, he wasn't entirely sure how to interpret seeing Connor come down the stairs of Abby's flat in nothing but boxers and an undershirt.

On the upside, he got to admire the way that undershirt clung to a deceptive bit of muscle.

He couldn't help the smile that spread on his face as he peered over Abby's head at the approaching knicker-clad nerd. "I didn't know you were here," he said.

The smile was a little harder to hold as Connor came to stand behind Abby. "Ah, well, we're becoming close friends." He chuckled nervously, like he wasn't quite sure where to go next.

Abby, of course, was all too happy to move things along. "He's been chucked out of his flat, and he's sleeping on the sofa," she said.

Stephen felt the grin start to return at the news. That was good, sort of. He meant, it was bad Connor had been kicked out of his flat, but it was a massive relief to have a perfectly rational reason for Connor to be there.

"And the underwear?" Because that bore mentioning.

"Thermostat," both Abby and Connor said in what might've been unison if they hadn't both been stammering.

"Too hot," Connor said.

"It's broken."

Well, this was just getting better and better. As the two stood awkwardly, Stephen let his eyes flick down, and he couldn't resist a little barb in Connor's direction. "Nice legs."

As he walked past, Connor looked down at his legs and then back up. "Thanks," he said. "Oh!"

At first, Stephen wasn't sure what the exclamation was about, and he didn't rightly care as Connor came running up beside him just to pat him on the back and sit down on the settee while he went to investigate Abby's other flatmates.

"I hate to break up the party," he said finally, "but you better get dressed. Helen's talking."

It had been an odd sort of day. First, chasing Helen into the anomaly – Christ, what a sight that had been – and then the dodo birds. When they'd first come through, he'd thought it was a nice sort of reprieve from giant carnivorous monsters and all the other madness they usually got. That, and it had been bloody hilarious watching Connor and the rest of the team trying to nab those daft little birds. And when they'd gotten them back through the anomaly, he'd thought they would be calling it an early evening, maybe even go out for some drinks or something.

He supposed he should've known better. Things were never that simple, and son enough, they were chasing after parasites that went between man-eating and mind-controlling.

And because when it rained, it poured, they hadn't gone long before finding out that one of Connor's mates had been infected. He'd seen Connor face down massive prehistoric creatures and not seen him so scared. To his credit, he was holding it together well for the situation, especially when he was talking to his other mate, but Stephen caught glimpses when Connor thought no one was looking that he'd seem to have a millisecond break down. But then he'd pop right back up and act like he was in control.

To think these clowns deserved a friend like Connor...their idiocy had gotten them into this mess, and it was pissing Stephen off watching Connor suffer for it.

When they'd found "Tom" at the stadium, Stephen had been a squeeze of the trigger away from blowing this guy's brains out. He meant nothing to Stephen personally, and so far as he could figure it, he'd done nothing but hurt Connor. Beyond that, he was about to infect Abby, and so shooting him seemed like the best option.

Only Connor was in the way.

"Let him try it, let him try it," Cutter said. It wasn't what Stephen wanted to hear. It was bad enough having Abby in there with that parasite; the last thing Stephen wanted was for Connor to get in the thick of it, too.

But there was nothing he could do about it, so instead he just got ready to shoot in case he needed to.

"Tom," Connor said as he turned around to where his infected friend had Abby pinned to the ground. "Tom, it's me. Let her go, mate." And he kept talking. He got Tom's attention, which somehow only made Stephen feel worse. He couldn't see Connor's face, but he could hear the telltale tremor in his voice. He was so hurt, so scared, but he stood fast.

As Abby ran, though, Connor did move, only in the wrong direction. He moved closer, squatting down in front of his friend, and Stephen thought he would never get the muscles in his chest to loosen after this. He couldn't hear them, not over the pounding of his chest.

And then Tom moved. It was quick, and Stephen felt his chest tighten. He didn't have a clear shot; Connor was in the way. He couldn't shoot Connor, but he couldn't let that parasite—

Nothing happened. Tom wasn't attacking Connor, and Connor wasn't running. He hadn't flinched back like he should've, he hadn't screamed or yelped or even made a bad joke like he did in so many other situations where he was terrified. No, he didn't run from the man in front of him. He held him. Like a brother, he stayed there.

That was the moment Stephen fell in love with Connor. Because even though he was terrified and scared and heartbroken, he stayed. He was brave when it counted, and Stephen thought the world of that.

Slowly, he lowered his gun. Not the whole way, but enough...this was Connor's place, and he knew how much it meant to Connor to be able to do this for his friend. He only wished Connor didn't have to do it alone. The pain he had to be in...it was unimaginable.

Beside him, he felt Abby take his arm and bury her face in it, but he wasn't paying attention to her. His eyes were on Cutter as he made his way over to Conner.

"I can't do this anymore," he heard Connor say, and it was like a knife had been lodged into his heart. Connor couldn't quit. Not so soon. Connor couldn't leave them.

Connor belonged with them. With him.

He most certainly didn't belong standing next to the body of his dead friend. "Get him away from it," Stephen said under his breath, as if he could will Cutter into the action he himself wasn't able to perform. "He doesn't need to see."

As if he'd heard him, Cutter steered Connor away. They were talking, but Stephen couldn't hear what they were saying. All he could see was the soft smile that eventually managed to break onto Connor's face, and he knew then that Connor would stay.

Only then did Stephen remember how to breathe.