It’s silly and small but Connor loves that he can still get Oliver a little flustered after all these months. As much as Oliver tries to play it off that he’s become immune to Connor’s ways, with I know you now, Connor Walsh and That doesn’t work on me anymore, Oliver’s still just as susceptible to Connor as always and Connor loves it.
He gets a little thrill when he stands just a bit too close and gets to watch as the tips of Oliver’s ears turn a little red and the blush slips down Oliver’s neck.
He adores how he can stare just a bit too long and hear Oliver’s voice jump an octave or two with the harmless Cut it out, Connor, which is almost always followed by Oliver avoiding eye-contact and Connor chasing it, wearing a grin he just knows is ridiculous.
But Connor’s favorite has to be how adorably clumsy Oliver gets when Connor touches him unexpectedly.
A light hand to the back of his neck and Oliver bumbles the phone in his hand.
Connor hooks his foot around Oliver’s under the table and Oliver’s silverware clatters, dropped against the plate.
At the bar, Connor leans in, his hips slotted behind Oliver’s and his chin hooked on Oliver’s shoulder; Connor slips an arm around Oliver’s waist just as he turns to press his lips to the side of Oliver’s neck and Oliver’s hand trembles, the drink spilling on his shirt. The glare Oliver sends him is meant to be a warning but Connor just presses a fond smile into Oliver’s shoulder and mumbles an insincere sorry.
Connor’s not even sure what it is but something about seeing this quiet but self-assured, self-confident man of his nervous and blushing stirs something in him. It’s predatory and protective. And as much as he knows he really should cut it out he just can’t seem to stop himself.
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