Note: This is not the domestic fluffy stuff I am supposed to be working on, not even a little bit.
Rating: PG13 (for allusions to the murder)
Word count: 1067
You’d think he was trying to speak directly with the
President with the way this woman was blocking his numerous attempts to knock
on Annalise Keating’s office door.“Annalise doesn’t have the time, patience, or interest to
hear about how one of her minions has slighted you. You’ll take it up with me
or you’ll leave. Pick.”“I need to speak with Professor Keating and I’m not going to
leave until I do, if she really has so little interest in-“The thick door creaks open and there she is, standing in all her terrifying
glory. Oliver has only ever seen her on television before, always strutting out
of the courtroom with her head held high and her overworked ducklings trailing
behind her. He is particularly concerned about how much she’s overworking them,
and he isn’t afraid of her. Not at all. Or at least not enough to back down
now.“I need to speak with you.”
“Yes I heard. Mr. Hampton, isn’t it? I understand you’ve
been of some service to a few cases. I can spare some time for whatever
impassioned rant you’ve prepared.”“Annalise-“
“Let him be Bonnie. Come in, Oliver I don’t have all day.”
The way she leans back on her chair when she sits across her
desk from him and reads him like a book is petrifying. But he made it all this
way and even if Connor never speaks to him again he can’t let this pass.“Connor worked six 17-hour days last week between classes
and your internship. As I understand it all of your interns are on similar
schedules so if you don’t particularly care about Connor or his health or his –
it doesn’t matter,” he snaps, “because I’m sure you care about having interns around
to do all of them frankly insane things you ask of them and you won’t have them
much longer if you work them to death.”She still sitting there evaluating him, completely unfazed. “Last
time I checked all of my interns were capable of breathing without the assistance
of machinery, they look the picture of health to me, in fact.”“Well then you must not be paying attention which is insane
because you have them in your house all day every day except for now when they’re
apparently three towns over sweeping some dude’s house.” He pulls out his
phone, still open to the text. “It’s 11:30 at night on Wednesday.”She blinks. Twice. “Is that all?”
“Don’t you care about them?”
“You mean don’t I care about him, the way you do. That’s
always the question,” she says, leaning forward, “isn’t it. When you start to
care about someone that’s a little bit frayed at the edges. Why doesn’t the
world care the way I do? Why can’t I protect him? And the answer is because
there isn’t anything to be done. I didn’t sign Mr. Walsh up for my class, or
his career, or his frankly destructive coping mechanisms. I chose him because
he’s brilliant, more so than my most studious – and less cunning than he thinks
he is. All of the students I choose I choose for two reasons. The first is for
what they can do for me, their particular skill. Mr. Walsh believes that is his
ability to obtain information by borderline prostitution. He is wrong. That’s
my second. I show them their blind spot, or at least I intend to. But you must
know, Mr. Hampton that it’s been trying year.”“I know that.”
“Then I guess I have to admit you’re partially right. It was always my
intention to show Mr. Walsh that he is more than an attractive trap. Just like
it is my intention to put some foundation in the quaking crystal tower Ms.
Pratt insists living atop. All of them are more than they can see.”“And what,” he says, shaking his head to try to get some
sense of where she’s going with this strange web of words, “you got distracted
from the lesson?”“In way. You know just how seductive Mr. Walsh can be. You
can imagine that the results are just as tempting for me.”It makes him so angry, so furious, and so unbelievably
helpless. “You’re using him.”“And he knows it,” she shrugs, “just like you always knew he
was using you.”“I don’t – I don’t care about your intentions. You don’t
understand what you’re doing to him…”“I understand perfectly. Some people break. Or explode.
Shooting stars, we call them. It has to be someone and it might well be him.”The helplessness presses down on him like the weight of the
ocean and he thinks maybe he’s shaking in his seat. But he’s run out of bravado
and words.“I can see you understanding that there is nothing you can
do, because I am not doing anything to him. Because you’re not here about his
work schedule. You’re here about the shake in his hands and the shift in his
eyes. You want it to be about work and school and not something else.”“So you do notice. You do know what it’s doing to him –“
“I know. And I care. And there is nothing you or I can do
about it, I’m afraid. But I can give you one piece of advice.”“Not legal, I hope.”
“All advice is legal advice, in one way or another. Now
listen to me, Oliver. Let him lie to you. Don’t pry or dig or beg. No matter
how much his eyes give away or your gut tells you he’s full of shit. Let him
lie to you, for your own sake. Honesty, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”So he sits across from him at his own dinner table two days
later and listens in detail about the NA meeting he found just outside of
campus. About how he’ll find a way to fit it into his day. He listens and
smiles, he tries to forget about every night he wakes up in a cold sweat. He
tries to forget about his shaking hands and the way he shudders and curls up
into himself in bed. Mostly he tries to forget about the way he mumbles in his
sleep he’s dead he’s dead he’s dead. He
tries to forget about all that and remember, to let him lie to him for both
their sakes.
Tag: to read
Connor always kind of expected falling in love would be a little like the movies.
He’d have this moment of epiphany and just know. He’d catch some guy’s eye or hear his laugh or something like that, turn around, and there he’d be. The One. Connor would find him and fall in love and that would be that. In the span of heartbeat, the world would be lighter, the air fresher, the songs sweeter. Rose-colored glasses and all that jazz.
The reality is a little different. Loving Oliver doesn’t crash over him in a wave. Loving Oliver seeps into his soul in a slow but steady trickle.
It’s Oliver buying French vanilla coffee creamer for Connor even though he takes his own coffee black. It just appears in the fridge one day with no explanation. Connor holds up the bottle with a question on his lips when Oliver just shrugs. “What? You like it.” Oliver kisses him goodbye in the morning with coffee breath and hair that is already losing its style because he keeps fussing with it and Connor decides that it is a rather nice way to start the day.
elastic heart (ao3: x)
Connor is trying to make things work. Oliver just isn’t sure he wants them to.It started with a mouth on his neck, hands on his hips, fire in his veins. Or maybe it started in a bar, with a sharp laugh and a killer grin. With an insecure IT worker and an overconfident law student. Oliver can’t be fucked to care. Doesn’t want to pinpoint the exact moment when he screwed his own life over.
And now. Well, now.
It’s hot, and sweaty, angry and hurt. And if Oliver’s being honest with himself, probably a bad idea. Just like the couple of drinks that led them here.
A future-ish, post 1×11 Coliver fic. I really have lots of feelings about Oliver backstory you guys…They’re out to dinner, at this horrible Thai place they discovered during those first few months, when it happens.
Way too late one night back then, Connor dragged Oliver out of bed with a “You have no food in your house” and off they went. Wandering through the darkened streets of Oliver’s neighborhood, talking about everything and nothing at all, they found it. It was the only place with an open kitchen for blocks and they entered with a careless shrug of “How bad can it be?” In truth? Awful. The service was abysmal, the food almost inedible, and the prices astronomical. But no one said anything when Connor and Oliver couldn’t keep their hands off each other in the back booth and their server didn’t bat an eye when they came back two days later to do it all over again.
And that’s how the Thai place with the worst Thai food either of them had ever had becomes their place.
Oliver hasn’t been back since the break up. Connor ordered takeout once but he couldn’t bring himself to actually eat it. The greasy bag sat unopened on his counter all night while Connor stared at it and thought, for the first time in a long time, of getting blind drunk.
Things have been moving slow the past few weeks. Movie nights in. Casual nights out with Oliver’s friends. Holding hands. Light pecks to a cheek. Nothing like that night in Oliver’s kitchen. They’re both going slow. Learning to trust again.
When Oliver casually brings up going out to their place with the simple text: “I was thinking Thai food tonight,” Connor tries not to get his hopes up. It doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t mean he’s been forgiven. It doesn’t mean they are back together.
But then at dinner, Oliver genuinely smiles at one of Connor’s stupid work stories, he keeps brushing Connor’s hand with his and their feet keep casually bumping into each other. The flicker of hope Connor left burning explodes into an inferno. He wants to laugh and cry. He wants to slide over into Oliver’s side of the booth, wrap his arms around Oliver, and never let go. He wants to bury his face in Oliver’s neck and just breathe in.
Connor wants to do so much but doesn’t get a chance to do any of it when a stranger stops by their booth.
“Hey. Long time,” the man says in greeting and Oliver looks up and freezes. He smiles up at the man but it’s his fake smile. The smile he uses when a friend says something moronic or their server gets his order wrong for the third time. It’s all thin lips and no teeth; nothing like his real smile. Oliver’s real smile is gummy and big and he gets little crinkles around his eyes. His real smile makes him look younger and free. Connor made Oliver smile like that not even five minutes ago. Connor wants this guy to leave so he can try and make Oliver smile like that again.
Oliver and Connor being college roommates who basically do everything together. Not just friend stuff, but suspiciously romantic stuff, like expensive dinners and late night walks under the stars. Their hugs definitely last more than is probably necessary. Three seconds turns to ten then twenty. Sometimes they hold hands in the cafeteria. Sometimes Connor’s friends say, “Oh, you’re Connor’s boyfriend.” But Connor’s never said it.
And Oliver is very confused. He doesn’t want to presume. Connor is gorgeous, all dark-eyed smoldering well-dressed sexiness. He could have anyone on campus – hell, in the world.
By comparison, Oliver is lanky and fumbling, with coke-bottle glasses and a stiff neck from staring at the computer all day. He isn’t smooth like Connor. His smirk wouldn’t start wars. He’s just an average guy with average attributes.
Another few weeks of hand holding, and one very public cheek kiss in line for the movies, Oliver finally has to ask. He waits until they get back to their dorm room, then turns on Connor.
“Are we… dating?”
Control
I’m still emotionally compromised after being slayed by episode 11 of HTGAWM, so I wrote a Coliver drabble. It’s a retelling of a certain scene that made us shippers scream, I’m sure.
Spoiler warning! Spoiler warning! You have been warned. It spoils episode 11, and the teaser for episode 12.
***
Oliver notices how silent he’s been through dinner, but he doesn’t trust his own tongue. The credits have barely started running on the television that he stands up brutally fast, diving for the kitchen before he can make a fool of himself. It’s only when he gets to the sink and begins to run the water for the dishes that he realizes that he’s left their plates behind.
Connor kisses up the side of Oliver’s nose and over one eyelid.
“Do you have any idea,” he says, brushing his lips over Oliver’s cheek, “how much I adore you?”
Oliver bites his lip but the smile still breaks. “No.” That smile widens. “Maybe you should remind me?”
Connor huffs out a laugh, but his touch softens, fingers tracing up the line of Oliver’s throat, across his chin, thumb brushing Oliver’s bottom lip. When Oliver opens his mouth, Connor replaces his fingers with his lips.
“You’re everything,” Connor whispers into the corner of Oliver’s mouth. His hands slide to Oliver’s shoulders and push him down into the mattress. “You’re handsome.”
“Connor.”
Connor grins against the bare skin of Oliver’s neck. “You’re hot.”
Oliver gasps.
Connor kisses down to Oliver’s shoulder. “I want you.”
Oliver’s hands grip Connor’s biceps and drag him back up. Face to face, Oliver leans up to claim Connor’s mouth.
Connor nips at Oliver’s lip.
”Connor.”
“Only you.”
Oliver holds him away. Eyes wide and vulnerable and impossibly dark, he stares up at Connor in silent question.
“I mean it,” Connor says, a promise he intends to keep.
Oliver’s gaze turns gentle, and Connor will make a million promises tonight to keep Oliver looking just like that.
He’ll keep them all, too.
So these scenes gave me lots of feels…Oliver resists the urge to tug at his tie again and takes a sip of his drink instead. He hates these functions for Connor’s firm. Socializing with all the type-A, Ivy League educated, designer clothes sporting lawyers always makes him feel inadequate and rumpled and boring. Every person he’s introduced is ridiculously successful with a spouse to match and he feels like an idiot. Also, they have the same look of shock when they learn he and Connor are together. Most quickly hide it but Oliver knows what they’re thinking, “What does Connor see in this guy?” And, looking out over the crowd of perfect people, Oliver can’t think of a damn thing.
After hours of watered down drinks and inane conversation, Connor leans over to whisper in Oliver’s ear, “Let’s find my boss, say goodbye, and get the fuck out of here” and Oliver’s never been more in love. They’re silent on the drive home and it isn’t until they’re in their kitchen when Oliver asks the one question that’s been bugging him all night.
“Why me?”
Connor turns as he tosses the car keys into the basket by the phone. “What?”
“Why me?” Oliver asks again. At Connor’s blank look he explains in a rush. “I mean what is it? Why me? I’m not a lawyer. I’m not super successful. I didn’t go to a good school and I don’t read books on the New York Times Bestseller list. I hate watching the news cause it’s depressing. I really like my job and might want to go into management someday but I’m not really driven to become a CEO or anything. I really hate wearing suits and I can’t cook. I’m such a nerd I even embarrass myself sometimes. I think I’m pretty good in bed but it’s—it’s not spectacular or anything. I mean—sometimes it’s pretty spectacular. I was actually really impressed with myself on your birthday last year but that’s not the point. The point is—is that there’s nothing special about me—”
It Feels Like Something
Oliver and Connor’s relationship is still delicate, but the warmth and the feelings, those are as strong as ever.
Set some time after the last episode. I’d tentatively place it a week after what happened in 1×11.
Let it be known that this all happened because of theexistencegame. She mentioned Oliver’s huge ass couch and next thing I know, I’m telling her that Connor has spend the night and sleep on that couch at
least once, now that they’re taking things slow. So, yeah, have an
excuse for me to fluff a little, because why not? We’re all in a fluffy
mood, am I right?
Title from this song right here.It’s almost like Oliver forgot about
it – Connor being here, the two of them being together… After kicking
Connor out, Oliver had gotten used to not having him around anymore; not
for favors, not for dinners, not for sex – but, in reality, he didn’t
forget at all. He is hyper-aware of Connor’s presence in the apartment.
The things you do to me
This is a reaction fic after watching htgawm 1.11 and it’s the scene where Connor gives Oliver the crochete hat from his grandmother. It’s my first reaction fic and the first part is just what happened in the scene plus a little extra what I think happens after.
Words: 1.900+ words
Ship: Connor Walsh/Oliver Hampton (htgawm)
Show/episode: Htgawm 1.11“My sluttylittle brother is finally growing up.”
The words stung like a bee. A lot of things had
changed since he started school and working for Annalise, including what
happened in his personal life between him and Oliver. Nobody knew about that in
his family so it wasn’t surprising to him when Connor’s sister got him that
nice present. Yes, the guy was hot and if she’d give him that present a year
ago, he would ravish the guy upstairs but he couldn’t stop thinking about
Oliver; who was he spending Christmas with; was he thinking about Connor at
that moment; wished he was with Oliver to spent Christmas with. At least he got
to spend some late-Christmas with him now.Connor watched Oliver from his end of the couch as he
opened the gift. Okay, so, Connor hadn’t exactly found a gift for Oliver
because the guy was hard to shop for! He had wrapped up the gift his grandma
made Connor, the weird green and yellow hat she crocheted for him because she
thought he was still thirteen. Besides, Connor never wore hats because they
looked weird on him.
lanablack 