"Connor… Connor…"

Without opening his eyes, he swatted. "Too early, Dean…"

"He's had a migraine. Let him sleep."

"I'm sorry we had to call you but, well, you know what our boss is like… but we couldn't just leave him and we weren't sure who else we could ask, you know…"

His weight shifted downwards – someone must have sat by his feet. "No, I'm glad you called. He's an asshole, but, you know, he still…"

"You still care."

"Somewhat," the voice agreed.


At some stage he was aware there was someone in the room with him. They were kind, gentle, like his mother once was. They pulled some blankets from his bed and folded them over him. They ran a face cloth under cold water and rested it over his forehead. They kept his coffee table stocked with water and caffeinated pop.

They spoke in a soft voice – not a harsh whisper, but low, experienced.

He knew it was Oliver. But he didn't want to believe it. And so he just gave in to the haze of pain and sleep and accepted the bustling around him without question.


It couldn't last forever. Sleep was great, when he could get it, but with the amount of caffeine buzzing through his system, nature was eventually going to call.

He was exhausted. And judging by the clean bucket, few empty cups and the man staring blankly at a DNA on his armchair… he wasn't the only one.

"Hey."

Oliver jumped. "You're awake."

"It would appear so." He struggled to push himself to sitting, body sluggish.

"How are you feeling?"

"Mmm…" He hung his head, letting himself rest into the corner of the back and arm of the couch. "Been better," he admitted.

Oliver's eyes flicked over him once – probably taking in just how pale he looked. "And your head?"

"Not bad."

It wasn't a complete lie – it was a hell of a lot better, even if the remnants still dregged through the corners of his mind – but, like always, Oliver wasn't about to take his shit. So he put the magazine down and raised an eyebrow. Just that.

And Connor must have been feeling guilty… or really out of it… because out of his mouth came, "I mean… I should probably take another pill but I can deal with this. If I could actually get out of bed, I could work like this…"

"You aren't going anywhere, Connor." Almost in an instant, the tablet he'd left on the table was in his hand, the warm hand of his… maybe-friend… wrapped underneath it, fingers curled onto his palm. "I gave up work for this."

Connor upended his hand, swallowing the pill with a glass of water… that Oliver held for him. "You didn't have to do that."

"I wanted to," was the response he received, plain and simple and honest enough to hurt.

"After all I did to you? I don't deserve anything."

"So is that why you avoided my calls? Because you didn't deserve to speak to me?"

"Because you didn't deserve to be ruined by the asshole that I ultimately am." Connor groaned. "I'm a fuck up. Every relationship I've had I've fucked up. Including whatever the hell we were."

"Were?"

"Fuck." He may have been awake, but things were still unfocused, thoughts and images and memories rushing through his brain faster than he could process, words tumbling from his mouth and he powerless to stop them, like paddling upstream right at Niagara Falls.

"Look, Connor…" Oliver sat in front of him, perched on the coffee table. "I'm nearly 30 and I work in IT… I can't say I'm traditional, but we do have different culture. And I obviously couldn't help it, I know I wanted more, and I hoped, and that… that's what it was… I just… I can't help but care about you…"

"The funny thing is…" He rubbed his head, reaching out for another glass of water. "You were never just a booty call. You're great at sex, don't get me wrong… but I can get that anywhere. You were the first one that I went back to in years."

Oliver stared at him. "Am I meant to be flattered by that?"

"No. You should value yourself more than that." His eyes fluttered shut, everything hazing around him again. He wanted to grip on to that train of thought, trail his fingers through it, wrap them around and coil it over his hands like ribbon, but there were too many colours, everything too entangled, and his fingers still too slow from the mixture of migraine and medication. "I don't do boyfriends… because something inside me is so scared it has to go and fuck everything up. I don't know what I'm doing. And I do dumb shit. And it hurts people. And the more I care about them, the worse it seems to be. Sex is easy. Sex is meaningless. Sex is…"

"Always on your mind, apparently." Oliver bit his lip, but he reached out anyway, brushing a few lone bangs out of Connor's eyes. "What if I told you that I'd rather be hurt by you than always wondering, 'what if'? What if I tried harder? What if we both tried to compromise?"

The hand fixed itself on the side of his face, and he fell into it, letting the warmth transfer over his cheek. "You do like pain, don't you?"

Oliver rolled his eyes, but brought them back quickly with a small smile. "A conversation for another time, I think. You're fading."

He was… but he wasn't. The second dose had kicked in, the pain was gone, and all that remained was this clear focus on the skin brushing onto his, the fingertip pressing into his temple. He yawned.

"Can I get you anything? Are you hungry?"

"No…" Connor tried to force his eyes to stay open. "I just want sleep…"

"You do that." Oliver leant forward, pressing his lips onto Connor's. "We'll talk when you're ready."

He yawned again, pushing himself back flat on the couch. "Might not be for awhile, Oli."

"That's alright." The man squeezed his hand before running his hand up and down Connor's side, almost like a cat. "I'll be here when you are."


Hey everyone!

Sorry for the delay - work and a friend needing to chat took up a bit more time than I'd hoped - but here we go, completion :-)

I'm thinking of... a way that Oliver can help Connor feel better - but that's not gonna get posted here. Probably just on my Tumblr ;-)

Thanks to everyone for reading, following, liking, everything! It means a lot to me!

Like it? Hate it? Want me to turn into a speaker and be subjugated to Avi Kaplan's range? Please let me know!

Keep smiling!
:D