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[hackd]

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[climax]

[ It is fun for him. ]

They're black.

[hackd]

That wasn't it. But thanks for the visual.

[ DEEP BREATH. ]

I was guessing when I get to see you again.

[climax]

And what's your prediction?

[hackd]

Honestly? I have no idea.

But I'm hoping it's soon.

[climax]

Maybe. Keating's keeping us busy.

[ Not entirely a lie! ]

[hackd]

[ Respond without sounding disappointed, Oliver. ]

Right. [ Not quite. ] I don't know how you do it. I'd probably lose my mind if she were my boss.

[ Nailed it. ]

[climax]

[ What is this feeling??

Must be heartburn. He's too young for that, though. No more caffeine after 8PM. ]

It's not so bad.

[ It's possible that half a minute later, a picture is sent of Connor sitting in the dimly lit front room of Keating's home/office amalgamation. The signature smirk is on his lips and bedroom eyes in full effect. He might be tired and tired of reading through casefiles, but he's not going to look like it. ]

[hackd]

[ As he opens the picture, his heart leaps and crash lands a moment later, unsure if it's a help or a hurt. Sometimes he feels like a puppy chasing a flashlight; just when he thinks he's got it, it darts away again out of reach. Either way, it's undeniably a relief to see Connor wasn't lying.

So, Oliver smiles, half-hidden by his fist. ]

You make working late look good.

[ Connor is also undeniably hot, and if Oliver stares a little longer than necessary at the picture it's between him and his conscience. ]

[climax]

[ Yup. ]

What are you doing right now?

[hackd]

[ lmfao get out of my face. ]

Not working late. Enjoying the fact I have a normal job. [ Missing Connor. Feeling like an idiot for doing so. ] Why?

[climax]

Why not tell me what you'd like to be doing? With me. Right now.

[hackd]

[ Oh.






Oh. ]

Seriously?

[climax]

Yeah. Why not?

[hackd]

I don't know. [ A smile edges along his lips, though his heart is picking up speed. ] I thought you were working.

1/2

[climax]

I can multitask.

[climax]

I've been here for six hours, I deserve a break.

[hackd]

OK. Fine. [ As if he could deny Connor anything. Okay. He can do this. He can.







He doesn't think he can do this. ]

OK. We'd [ ... ] probably be making-out.

[climax]

[ omg.......... ]

Scandalous. You're making me blush, Oliver.

[hackd]

Hey! Shut up. You're the one who wanted to do this.

[climax]

I did. Where would we be? How would you be touching me? Kissing me? Do I have to walk you through this?

[hackd]

[ The answer to the last one is yes. ]

Where would you want us to be? Here? In your boss's office?

1/2

[climax]

You're terrible at this, you know?

[climax]

The last place I'd want to be is here, so we'd be at your place. It's been a long week and we haven't seen each other in a while.

[ Nevermind that he knows how many days—exactly—it's been since he's last seen Oliver. He shouldn't know that or care about it, but he does. ]

So, when I saw you, I'd fist my hand in that ugly threadbare white shirt you sleep in and pull you against me. And I'd kiss you, hard, on your mouth until I couldn't taste this shitty coffee Laurel made anymore and all I could taste was you. I'd keep going until you couldn't breathe and you had to push me away.

1/2

[hackd]

I could've told you that.

[hackd]

[ He waits a small eternity for that last message, wondering what the hell Connor could be writing, but when he finally receives it his heart almost stops.

Jesus.

He is so out of his league. ]

I didn't know you were such a poet. [ His eyes wander down the message again and drift closed as he imagines it. Something closes around his heart, making it harder to breathe.

When he opens them again, his fingers are already typing. ]

I wouldn't push you away for long. Just long enough to lock the door. Then I'd bring you further inside and [ he swallows ] take off your shirt.

[ Better? ]