A/N: I'm still making up for the dearth of Coliver scenes in HTGAWM. Every episode should have at least two. The one Coliver scene in S02E12 is clearly a prelude to lovemaking. "I'll Take Care of You" takes place immediately after that lovemaking. How to Get Away with Murder is the property of Shondaland Productions. I don't own any of the characters in this story.
Oliver lay on his stomach, stretched his limbs, and literally purred at the beautiful man beside him.
"I take back what I said before," Connor said.
"About wanting to transfer to Stanford?"
"No, about your ass. Mine's turned to mush this semester and could certainly use toning, but yours is perfect." He started on the small of Oliver's back and pressed a line of soft kisses down to the other man's ass, to which he directed his full attention, causing Oliver's eyes to water. "Absolutely perfect. Maybe I shouldn't let you out of the house in those tight pants you've been wearing – not even here in Philly, much less in Palo Alto."
Oliver turned onto his side and faced Connor. All the post-coital bliss was gone from his expression, and he looked ready to make a confession.
"I don't think I'd be very popular in Palo Alto," he said. "Actually, I know I wouldn't. I tried living out there when I first graduated from college, and it didn't work out so well."
"Really?" Connor had grilled Oliver in detail about his ex-boyfriends, his childhood, and his family, but he'd never been at all curious about Oliver's work history. "I'm surprised. I thought all you computer geniuses loved the Bay Area."
"Connor, I …" The older man struggled; broaching this subject months into their relationship was painful. "This is awkward." But he saw the love in Connor's eyes and knew that he had to take the next step.
"I know that you and your work friends think I'm a 'computer genius,' but I'm not. I'm good at hacking into IT systems of government bureaucracies and big companies. It's something I started doing when I was a kid for some reason I can't even remember, and I've assembled a big bag of tricks over the years. But I'm not especially good at anything else."
"Oh come on, Ollie. More low self-esteem?"
"No, just a realistic view of my own abilities," Oliver said. Now that he'd started, it felt good to be sharing his hard-earned self-knowledge with his partner. "I wasn't a very good student. I got ok grades in most of my comp. sci. courses and just squeaked by in a few. Luckily, I lived in a dorm full of geeks. I would have flunked out if I hadn't had my study group."
Connor was mesmerized. After Oliver had been silent for a few seconds, he gave the needed prompt to continue. "What happened after graduation?"
"Three of the guys in my study group decided to do a start up. They asked me to be part of it – god knows why, because they knew I wasn't a strong programmer – and we all moved to the valley."
Oliver was happy that he'd started this trip down memory lane. He had last told this story years ago, when the shame had been raw and recent. Since then, he had grown up and faced much more serious challenges. Telling the story matter-of-factly to someone he trusted was liberating.
"It was only a month before they asked me to leave. I wasn't contributing anything. Hell, I was holding everyone else back. After I quit the start up, I applied for an entry-level job at Google, but my interview was a disaster. They expected me to solve puzzles and write code on a white board – in real time, while three interviewers sat there watching. Epic fucking fail."
Connor bit his lip and looked embarrassed. That kind of think-on-your-feet-and-impress-everyone-in-the-room routine was something he was great at. It had made him irresistible to hot guys in gay bars from Detroit to Boston to Philly, and someday it would make him an even more effective defense attorney than Annalise Keating. It was an invaluable skill that he would never relinquish but not one he was proud of; he liked the fact that it wasn't something he and Oliver had in common.
"So I came back East with my tail between my legs," Oliver continued. "I got a boring-ass job in the IT department of a bank. Mostly running scripts and installing patches and configuring machines for new employees. I had plenty of time for my hacking hobby. A few years ago, I found this job in the IT department at the ad agency; it's slightly harder and pays better. But I'm still a grunt in the tech world and probably always will be."
Connor smiled and reached over to stroke Oliver's cheek. "I'm glad you told me."
Oliver was glad, too. All those years of feeling like a failure, and now it was crystal clear to him that he'd be miserable working 80 hours a week at a start up. He was actually pretty content at his current job, if not always intellectually engaged.
"Anyway, it's not just my job," he said. "Moving to California may be a bad idea for me all around. You know my parents live in New Jersey. I'm not sure I want to be 3000 miles away from them."
Connor was surprised to hear that. They had only visited Oliver's parents once, briefly, while en route to New York, and Oliver had never said anything about wanting to see them more often. His sister worked in finance and lived in London, which didn't cause their parents any grief as far as Connor could see.
"They could come visit us out there," he said. "It's not as though we see them every week … or every month for that matter."
Oliver turned onto his back and faced the ceiling. It was a familiar move that Connor recognized as the lead in to a difficult conversation.
"That may change as my condition progresses, Con. I may need their help."
Connor had not seen that coming at all. He immediately fell back on the supportive, optimistic patter that he'd perfected when Oliver had first been diagnosed with HIV. "What are you talking about? You're doing so well. There are new treatments discovered every year. There might even be a cure before too long."
"And there might not be."
Connor's anxiety level shot up. "Have you been sick lately?" Had he been so focused on Annalise's crap that he'd missed something seriously wrong at home? "Please tell me what's going on. Have you seen Ken?"
Ken Rosen was Oliver's primary-care doctor. He'd done a remarkable job of coordinating all of the specialist visits and turning Connor into a knowledgeable partner in Oliver's HIV treatment without overwhelming him. Thoughts of Ken gave Connor his first glimpse into why Oliver might not want to leave Philadelphia. Still, there must be good HIV doctors everywhere – certainly in California.
"No, I'm feeling ok. Better than ok, actually. Since the last dosage adjustment, I haven't had any nausea or sleeplessness or … anything. I feel better than I have in years to be honest."
"Thank god," Connor whispered. He pulled Oliver into his arms and squeezed as tightly as he could. "You have to tell me if you feel sick. Even if it's something minor. Or something you think is minor … it might not be …"
"Connor, stop! I do tell you. Always. You've been totally with me since I tested positive, and I wouldn't have gotten this far without you." Oliver squirmed halfway out of Connor's vice grip so that he could breathe. "I didn't say that I need my parents' help now. I don't."
He kissed Connor's neck and chin, looked deeply into his eyes, and sat up against the headboard. This was all very difficult to say.
"I'm thinking about the next stage, Con. And the stage after that. My immune system hasn't started to deteriorate yet. Everything's gonna be harder once it does."
"Ollie, I'll take care of you! How could you even think I wouldn't?"
"Don't make this more difficult than it is. You know I love you. You're the most important thing in my life right now."
What was he trying to say? Connor was terrified.
"And I know you love me. But serodiscordant couples have very high separation rates."
Separation. Connor turned pale.
"No, we're not separating!" Oliver should have known the word would scare Connor. "I want to be with you – more than anything. But you're 23 years old. You're still in school. You haven't started your law career yet. Neither of us can know what you're going to want years from now."
"I'm going to want you, Ollie."
Oliver smiled. "I hope so. I hope everything keeps getting better for us. I just don't want more pressure or big changes now. I'm still getting used to being positive. I'm still struggling not to freak out about whatever it is that you might go to jail for – something you're going to have to tell me about someday, you know. Now's not the time for me to worry about moving to California or getting a new job."
Amazingly enough, Connor got it. Never having been in a committed relationship before, he had no points of reference. But he knew that this conversation had brought them closer together. Strange that it seemed to have happened randomly. One minute they'd been joking about how Oliver's hot ass would play in Palo Alto, and the next he'd been hearing about a private and painful episode in Oliver's past.
"Anyway, let's not waste our time together worrying about stuff that may not happen," Oliver said as he lay back down in the bed. "Stanford may not be an option for you. Or, if it is, maybe I'll do better on the Silicon Valley job market this time. Who knows? Maybe my mom's always had a secret desire to live in the Bay Area and would move there and help us out if we needed her."
Connor hugged Oliver and kissed the top of his head. "And maybe you'll be healthy for a very, very long time." He wasn't ready to think about the expected progression of Oliver's illness; at least Oliver had said "we" instead of scaring the shit out of him with that "serodiscordant couples" bullshit. They'd be together, and they'd work it out.
"You're not wrong about yoga, you know," Oliver said.
"Oh? What do you mean?"
"I started doing it because Ken said it could be a stress reducer. But I've kept up with it because it's done wonders for my ass."
Connor gripped his lover's ass firmly with both hands. "It certainly has."
"Do you want to come to my next yoga class with me?," Oliver asked.
"Why? Is my mushy ass a turn off for you?"
"No, Con, not at all. I got the impression that its alleged mushiness was bothering you. Personally, I absolutely love your ass."
Oliver flipped Connor onto his stomach and showed him just how much he loved his ass.
A/N: Sadly, I have to admit that I'm not sure how long I can keep this up. Season 2 peaked for me in S02E08, during the sex-in-the-lecture-hall scene, and it's been going steadily downhill ever since. I really don't care at all about Rose and Wes and Annalise and all of the stupid flashbacks. Unless the writers get back to developing the Coliver relationship in interesting and challenging ways, I may give up on this show.