Author's Note: I am complete Rhodestead trash and I regret absolutely nothing.
"Rough day?"
Connor startles, lifting his head from the cradle of his hands to glance quickly toward the door. It's just Will, closing the door softly behind him as he steps into the breakroom. Will's presence isn't all that surprising; not nearly as surprising as the kick in Connor's heartbeat at his arrival.
"Understatement of the century." Connor responds, his voice coming out nearly as haggard and exhausted as he feels.
One corner of Will's mouth quirks up. It's not amusement, not really. It's mostly dark and a little rueful, but Connor understands. Days like today leave little room for actual humor.
Will crosses the room, pouring himself a cup of what passes for coffee from the pot on the counter.
"These cases are always the hardest."
Connor watches him settle into the gray chair directly across from where he's sitting, Will's long, capable fingers wrapping elegantly around beige porcelain. He shakes his head, trying to dislodge the strained thoughts taking up space.
"I've seen more death than I care to think about," Connor sighs, carding trembling hands through disheveled hair. "But this…"
Death is never easy, especially not in a place like this. In a place filled with people, with equipment, all with the express purpose of saving lives, losing a patient is always brutal. But when that lost life belongs to a three year old girl whose only sin was being in the wrong place at the wrong time, the loss hits like a kick to the sternum.
Will nods, eyes open and careful. There's no judgment there, none of the pity or condescension Connor might have expected. Instead, those eyes hold patient understanding—a softness Connor hadn't realized he needed.
"Do you want to—" Will starts, trailing off when Connor lifts his gaze. He seems to change course, adjusting his tactic in response to the fractured look Connor knows must be screaming in his eyes. "Have a drink with me tonight." he says instead.
Connor's not sure what his face does, but it must be something pretty spectacular because Will laughs, a hint of pink entering his cheeks. He scrubs a hand over his mouth, eyebrows drawing down over his steady gaze.
He clears his throat. "I've got a bottle of tequila Jay bought me, just sitting around. It's not gonna drink itself."
Connor frowns, looking down into his hands like he'll find an answer there. He hasn't spent much time—or any, really—with Will outside of work. Maybe he's overthinking things, but a bottle of tequila and an invitation to his place seems like something reserved for friends. And he and Will aren't that, not really. They're coworkers, acquaintances, occasional allies, and, more commonly, adversaries. Still, the offer is tempting. More tempting than Connor would have thought, but the nudge his brain gives him has him agreeing before he has to time to talk himself out of it.
"Your place?" Connor asks.
Will nods, shrugging one shoulder. "Or yours. Whatever works for you."
"Okay," he says, meeting Will's scrutinizing eyes across the table. "Yours."
Will smiles, small but genuine. "Eight o'clock."
Connor ignores the flip behind his navel.
It's ten after eight when Connor knocks on the door. He's inordinately nervous for reasons he doesn't want to think too hard on, and fidgets with the handle of the paper bag he's carrying while he waits for Will to answer. Except, it's not Will that opens the door, it's Jay, and Connor wonders when he forgot that the brothers share an apartment.
"Hey, man," Jay greets with a grin, swinging the door wide and sweeping an arm in invitation. "Will's in the kitchen."
"You staying for tequila?" Connor asks, following Jay into the apartment, eyes taking in the distinctly bachelor-pad feel of the space.
Jay shakes his head, already shrugging into a jacket and pocketing his keys. "Erin and I have plans. Enjoy it, though. That bottle cost me a small fortune and a favor from Ruzek."
"Well spent, if you ask me," Will throws in as he rounds the corner into the living room.
Connor can hear the smirk in his voice as clearly as he sees it, and can't help but laugh when Jay flips his brother the bird and heads out.
Before he closes the door, Jay yells back, "You puke, you clean it!" and then leaves with a laugh trailing after him.
"Your brother has no faith in us," Connor muses, shrugging out of his jacket. "I haven't puked since med school."
"Jay's a lightweight," Will chuckles. "What do we have here?" he asks, peeking into the bag Connor sets on the coffee table.
"I hope you like Mexican. I figured we probably shouldn't drink on an empty stomach."
"And you kept with the theme."
Connor grins, reaching into the bag and pulling out a six pack. It's a specialty Mexican brew he was introduced to during his stint in the country, one he thinks Will might really enjoy. Will eyes the alcohol dubiously, but Connor is quick to reassure.
"Trust me on this," he says. "I'll convert you before the night is over."
There's something interesting in Will's eyes when he nods and says, "Of that, I have no doubt."
"You're full of shit!" Connor accuses, wiping at his leaking eyes. His stomach aches from laughing, and he's glad the ache in his chest has been relocated.
"I swear to God," Will says, holding his palms out. "I had no idea people were into that kind of thing. I mean, I'll try anything once, but even I wasn't ready for the full-on squirrel suit."
"Why a squirrel, though?" Connor asks through wheezing laughter. "Is there a potent sexuality they possess that I'm unaware of?"
Will shrugs, eyes sparkling with laughter as he pours two more shots. They've long since finished dinner and drank through the beer Connor brought with him. A quarter of the tequila bottle is missing and Connor can't stop staring at Will's mouth, but he feels better than he has in weeks, so he can't hate it.
"I don't know, man, but I was out of there as quick as I could gather my nuts."
The laugh Connor lets out is loud and unashamed. He clutches at his stomach and tosses his head back, resting it on the chair behind him.
"I don't think I can beat that," he admits when he catches his breath.
"No close encounters with the animal kingdom?" Will questions, pushing the shot glass across the coffee table.
"Not unless you count the time my college roommate's cat attacked my sack mid-session," Connor snorts.
He feels Will's eyes on him as he licks the salt line off his hand and tosses back the shot, can almost feel the burn of them as they follow the tequila's path down his throat.
"You're kidding."
"Wish that I were, my friend." Connor tells him, wiping lime juice from his bottom lip. "I've got the scars to prove it."
"Did your roommate at least offer first-aid?"
"Sure," Connor nods, settling back more deeply into the cushions behind him. "After he finished laughing his ass off while I writhed around in pain."
Head whipping up in surprise, Will's eyes go wide. "Oh."
A slow smile curls Connor's mouth. He's pleased that he caught Will of guard with that, but he's more pleased to see that Will doesn't recoil from it.
"I guess I'm not the only one who's up for anything once," Will finally says, when a long moment has passed in silence.
"Oh, it was more than once," Connor says, making sure he's being clear. "That an issue for you?"
He doesn't mean for it to sound so defensive, so challenging, but he's been through this before. Too many staunchly-straight men have reacted negatively to finding out his sexual history is littered through with both men and women, even when they were nothing more than friends. He feels like Will isn't that type, but one never knows and his immediate reaction is deeply ingrained.
Will's expression shifts, like he's trying not to be offended but is all the same. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, and meets Connor's gaze head on.
"If it were, it would be massively hypocritical of me."
It's Connor's turn to be surprised.
"Oh," he says, unable to stop the smile from re-gracing his lips. "I guess it would."
They stare at one another for an extended moment, eyes locked and searching like they're trying to figure each other out. Connor's heart hammers in his throat. He watches the way Will's eyes change, every thought and feeling swirling just beneath the surface. There's darkness pooling out toward the edges of each iris, pupils dilating to swallow up the deep brown.
"This isn't how I saw tonight playing out," Will admits softly.
"Honestly?" Connor shifts forward in his seat, moving close enough that their knees bump together. "Me neither. But, I can't say I'm hating it."
Will huffs a laugh, scrubbing a hand over the ginger stubble dotting his jaw, his gaze staying fixed on Connor's face.
"Is this a good idea?" he asks, not like he wants to be talked out of whatever it is happening between them, but more like he needs to hear Connor's reassurance.
"Depends." Connor shrugs, mouth pulling up on one side. "How drunk are you?"
Glancing at the tequila bottle, Will seems to weigh its effects on his sobriety.
"Not overly," he says, attention flicking up to Connor's mouth before dragging up to look him in the eyes. "But, enough to admit there's an influence."
Connor nods his understanding. He's disappointed—he knows he won't make any serious passes at a man who is admittedly feeling the effects of drink—but he accepts it. When he makes that move, willing to accept now that it's probably inevitable, he wants to know they're both going into it with clear heads.
"Alright," he announces, reaching across the miniscule space between them to lay a hand on Will's thigh, "let's hit pause on this then. Just until we're both sober enough to make informed choices."
Will's brow furrows. He looks like he's going to object, but he holds his tongue.
"If, in the morning, we're still on the same page…"
Connor trails off, but Will's expression says he understands the point.
"In the morning," he reiterates. When Connor nods, Will asks, "Does that mean you're leaving?"
"Only if you want me to," Connor says. He leans back into the cushions of the couch, throwing an arm across the back. "I could crash here, or I can get a cab and call you tomorrow."
There's barely a beat of silence when Will shakes his head, standing up to offer Connor his hand.
"Stay the night."
Connor's smile is slow to unfurl, but it curls his mouth at each corner when he reaches to accept Will's offered hand.
"Should I take the couch?"
He's teasing—sort of—but he's hoping with every fiber of his being that Will offers an alternative. Just the idea of sharing a bed—being beneath the covers, on sheets that smell like Will's cologne and hold the warmth of his skin, makes Connor's pulse pound inside his head.
Will's lips pull into a wolfish smirk, higher on one side than the other. He wraps his fingers around Connor's hand and tugs, walking backward as he says, "My bed is big enough for two."
It's not the sun streaming in through Will's window that wakes Connor. He's is wrapped up—cocooned, more accurately—in the decadently soft blankets of Will's bed, head buried where the sun can't reach it. What wakes him is actually the way Will shifts in his sleep, one long, bare leg wedging itself between Connor's knees until they're thoroughly tangled. He can feel the heat of Will's body pressed up along his back, smiles sleepily at the way Will's breath ghosts over the back of his neck.
He wants to stay where he is, surrounded by Will's warmth and perfectly content, but his bladder forces him to move. He's careful as he slips out of bed, doing his best not to disturb the gorgeous redhead lightly snoring beside him. Will doesn't wake when Connor stands, just mumbles under his breath and turns into the warm spot Connor left behind.
After a moment spent drinking in the serene scene before him, Connor pulls his t-shirt back on and shuffles to the bathroom. When he's finished freshening up from a long night of sleep, he heads out to the kitchen with the intent of foraging for coffee. He manages to find everything easily; Will's organization makes it simple to locate mugs, filters, and coffee grounds without having to search too hard. Once the coffee's on, Connor lingers. He's debating crawling back into bed when a voice breaks the silence.
"Well, good morning, Dr. Rhodes."
He barely manages to not jump at the sound of Jay's voice, somehow brashly loud in the stillness of the morning. Connor turns to find Jay leaning in the doorway, one shoulder propped against the jam, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans.
"Detective Halstead."
"Long night?" he asks, a hint of teasing in his tone.
Connor grins. "Could have been longer."
Jay cocks a brow over amused eyes, straightening up to saunter toward the coffee pot. "Enjoy that bottle?"
"Immensely."
"You weren't on the couch when I came in this morning," Jay offers.
Connor watches him root around in the cabinet above the coffee maker, says only, "Very observant, Jay. No wonder they made you a detective."
Jay's chuckle is low but rumbling. He turns to fix Connor with a look, letting his eyes slide over his state of half undress. It's not a hard look, not even a trace of judgement. If anything, Jay seems even more amused.
"I've gotta head to the station," he says, like Connor asked. "Real big case—be gone all day."
"…Okay?"
Jay shrugs, pours coffee into his travel mug and heads toward the door. "Have fun," he calls over his shoulder, just before the door clicks shut.
"Ignore him."
This time Connor does jump. He spins around to find Will filling the doorway Jay previously occupied, looking adorably rumpled in just his boxers and a-shirt. His hair is sticking up on one side, flattened from resting on his pillow all night, and his skin still bears the creases of sleep.
"That's what I do."
Connor smiles, turns around to pour what's left of the coffee into two mugs.
"Cream, one sugar," he says, holding out one of the mugs.
"You know my coffee order?" Will asks as he takes it with a smile of his own. He takes a sip with eyes closed in caffeine-induced bliss, lets his eyes flicker back open lazily.
Shrugging, Connor leans back against the edge of the counter. He takes a long drink from his own mug, savoring the bitter bite of black coffee dancing on his tongue.
"I have a good memory for the little things," he offers.
Will's expression doesn't change, but his eyes warm noticeably. He steps farther into the kitchen, doesn't stop until there's barely a foot left between them. Connor swallows hard, releases his cup when Will wraps his fingers around it and tugs.
"Would you like to know what I have a good memory for?" Will asks, leaning into Connor's space as he sets both mugs down on the counter behind him.
He doesn't move away when he sets them down. Instead, Will leans forward, palms resting against the edge of the counter on either side of Connor's hips.
Ensnared by the molten chocolate of Will's eyes so close, Connor can barely form a proper sentence. He settles for an inquisitive, "Hmm?"
Noses nearly brushing, Will's words whisper over Connor's lips, making them tingle.
"The way your hand felt on my thigh last night."
"That so?" Connor asks, only the littlest bit embarrassed by how breathy his voice sounds.
"Mmm," Will murmurs, bottom lip catching on Connor's Cupid's bow. "Just thinking about it now makes me hard all over again."
Fire bursts to life in Connor's chest, erupting into a certifiable inferno. He doesn't stop to think, doesn't bother weighing his options. Before he knows it, Connor is digging fingers into the hair at the back of Will's head and yanking. Their mouths crash together like waves pounding the shore, rough and raw but somehow smoothly elegant. Connor can't help but moan into it, a low, feral sound that is two parts hunger, one part finally.
Will clutches at his hips, jerking him forward so they're pressed together, belly to belly. Connor can feel the proof of Will's words jutting up between them, solid and thick where it lays against his stomach. He shivers at the feeling of fingertips slipping beneath the cotton of his t-shirt, scorching their way up his sides and teasing over the bumps of his ribcage.
They both gasp when they pull apart. Connor looks up into bottomless pools of liquescent desire, feels like he's drowning in the depths of it.
"You're not going to hit pause again, are you?" Will asks, flush riding high in his cheeks.
"Not if my life depended on it."
Connor surges forward, reclaiming Will's mouth. Will opens eagerly for him, parting his lips to let Connor's tongue dip in to tangle with his. It's lacking any of the finesse Connor prides himself on when he's in the OR, but all the more perfect for it. The kiss is sloppy and desperate, all searching tongues and seeking hands. Connor gives himself over to it, pours every ounce of anger and admiration he's ever felt toward Will into it.
Somehow, they end up horizontal. Connor doesn't know how they got from the kitchen to the living room, but he's thankful for Will's presence of mind when he feels the couch sag under their combined weight. Will kneels over him, trailing rasping kisses over the hinge of Connor's jaw, down the taut line of his neck. When Will's teeth nip at the lobe of his ear, Connor bucks up, nearly throwing Will off.
Will just laughs, low and gritty. He redistributes his weight for better balance and goes back to mouthing at Connor's throat, marking the skin with indents in the shape of his teeth.
"Fuck," Connor hisses, head thrown back in offering. "Christ, Will."
"I've been waiting weeks to get my mouth on you," Will confesses, like he's spilling some deep, filthy secret. "Every time you mouthed off, every time you questioned my decisions… You've been driving me fucking crazy."
"The feeling was mutual."
"Prove it," Will growls.
It's more a command than anything, and it makes Connor's cock throb against his belly. He grinds his teeth, lifting his hips to let Will feel how hard he is. Their cocks brush against one another, pulling groans from both of their throats.
"You think this is first time I've been hard because of you?" Connor breathes, words spoken directly onto Will's tongue. "A month ago. One month. You contradicted me in the ER, told me I was wrong in front of a room full of people, and you smiled while you did it."
He bites lightly at Will's mouth, laps away the sting with a flick of his tongue.
"I wasn't sure if I wanted to punch you or fuck you, but I had to jerk off twice in the on-call room before I could go back to work."
The sound that spills from Will's mouth is nearly obscene. It's possessive and fierce, and Connor feels the echo if it deep behind his sternum.
"Show me," Will grits between clenched teeth, sitting back on his heels so he can see all of Connor spread out under him.
Connor is quick to oblige him. He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his briefs and pushes them down over his hips. Will's glassy eyes focus on the way his rigid length springs free, bobbing up to slap against Connor's belly. He bites his lip and swallows thickly, watching in rapturous awe when Connor takes himself in hand and strokes lazily. His eyes follow every shift of skin over skin, mesmerized by every twist and pull of Connor's fist on his own turgid flesh.
"You planning on joining, or you just gonna watch?"
Will's attention snaps up, lust-blackened gaze burning into Connor's skin like a brand.
"Oh, I'm gonna join you," Will promises, reaching behind his head to tug his shirt off. "And I'm not going to stop until you beg."
Goosebumps explode over Connor's skin, making him shiver. With Will cradled between his spread thighs, Connor wraps his legs around Will's hips and urges him closer. With elbows on either side of Connor's head, Will settles on top of him, letting his hips roll deliberately. Connor sucks in a jagged breath, arching into the sensation.
"Jesus Christ."
Will's smirk is dark and knowing. His eyes throw sparks when he shifts back, sucking delicate bruises down the center of Connor's chest. He moves in achingly slow increments, catching his teeth on each of Connor's pebbled nipples before moving on to trace his tongue over the bumps and ridges of Connor's stomach.
Connor can't stop the way his hips undulate, seeking out the wet heat of Will's mouth when he feels it at the crease of his hip and thigh. Instead of giving him what he wants, Will moves on, sucking wet, open-mouthed kisses on the inside of each thigh. Connor trembles under the onslaught of heat pooling low in his belly.
"Will."
It's not even his name, not really. It's mostly just an exhalation Connor can't stop.
"Shh," Will soothes, smoothing one palm over the flat plane of Connor's pelvis.
His tongue flicks out, lightly brushing the underside of Connor's cock, and Connor's whole body flinches. Will makes slow work of it, sucking and licking at the hard length before backing off. He does it over and over again, until Connor's brain is buzzing puddle of needneedwantneed.
"What's wrong, baby?" Will taunts, looking up at Connor from his place between his thighs. "What do you need?"
Connor ignores the way Will's endearment makes his stomach flip, shoves it down and focuses on the way the rough pads of his fingers dig into the fleshy part of his thighs. He knows Will wants him to beg, wants him to ask for what he wants, but Connor is stubborn and struggles to show that kind of vulnerability. He grinds his teeth, throws his head back so he's staring at the ceiling and refuses to ask.
Will doesn't seem phased. If anything, he seems more encouraged. He licks a long stripe up the length of Connor's cock, takes just the head into his mouth and swirls his tongue around it.
"Holy shit." It slips out without Connor's permission, just leaps of his tongue like it has a death wish.
His fingers twine in the silky waves of Will's hair, hold on for all their worth when Will sucks him into back of his throat and swallows around him. Connor's body bows forward, curling in on itself until he's staring down at the way his length disappears into the slickness of Will's mouth. He's dazed by it, caught off guard by how good Will looks with his cock in his mouth.
"You're fucking gorgeous like this."
He's not sure who's more startled by the admission, himself or Will, but they both stutter in their movements. Will's eyes smolder up at him, but they're sharper now; more aware. He pulls off Connor's cock slowly, lets it slip from his mouth to slap wetly against his own belly.
Connor braces himself, expects teasing or taunting. But Will doesn't do either of those things. Instead, he moves over Connor, realigns them until they're face to face again. His eyes are soft but molten, his lips puffy and red. Connor can't stop staring at the way they shine, spit-slick and swollen.
"I didn't—"
"I know," Will says, voice low but enough to shut Connor up. "You didn't mean for that to slip out."
Connor doesn't speak—can't with the lump of mixed emotions lodged in his throat.
"But," Will murmurs, leaning in to kiss him sweetly, more softly than they've kissed until now, "I also know that, even though you didn't want me to hear it, you meant every word."
Frozen, Connor blinks up at him, tries to swallow down the block in his throat.
"God, you have no idea, do you?" Will laughs, humorless but not cruel. "Connor, you… You're all I think about. No matter how hard I try, I can't fucking shake you."
"Will—"
"No," Will hushes him with another kiss. "Stop thinking so hard, okay? Just let this be what it is, whatever it is, and we'll go from there."
Something surges up inside him, has Connor reaching for Will and pulling him back in before his mind thinks to do it. Their slow, teasing atmosphere evaporates in an instant. It changes shape, morphs into the kind of needy desperation that you feel deep inside the marrow of your bones.
They writhe together, sweat making their skin glide smoothly with every thrust, every meeting of their hips. Will reaches between them, taking both their cocks in his hand and stroking, twisting deliberately around the crown. Connor shudders, bites hard at his lips to stop himself from coming then and there.
"Come on, Connor," Will whispers, breath wet and warm at Connor's ear. "Come for me."
The gentle demand in Will's words send lightning coursing through his veins. He tries to fight it, but Connor comes a moment later, shooting white and sticky between them. When Will comes barely a minute after that, he almost growls, biting at the slope of Connor's neck and shoulder and adding his come to the mess already pooling on Connor's skin.
They stay tangled together in a messy sprawl, Will's weight a welcome pressure on Connor's chest. As their breaths even out, settling back into a normal rhythm, Connor hesitantly runs a hand through Will's damp hair. He smiles when Will pushes into the touch and nuzzles into his chest.
"We should probably clean up," Will ventures, not like he wants to but like he thinks he should.
Connor grins. "Jay said he'd be gone all day," he offers.
"Well," Will chuckles softly, looking up into Connor's eyes, "then maybe we should take advantage of our solitude."
"Yeah," Connor agrees. "Maybe we should."
They don't leave the couch until the sun sets outside the apartment's windows, and even then, it's only to return to Will's bed.