So, I absolutely love this couple. They are so fucking adorable. And Jack Falahee is just...Shit! He is just gorgeous. Anyway, I don't really feel like I did them justice, but I wanted to try my hand and writing about them! So here we go. Parts of this are based loosely around the episode where Connor goes to visit his sister for Christmas.

Disclaimer: I unfortunately do not own any of them :( I also unfortunately do not own Colton Haynes, who is made mention of in the story.

Connor Walsh appeared to be the kind of guy that things came easy for.

And in a lot of it's entirety, that was true.

Sex came easy, with both men and women, when he needed it to.

His body came easy, because he had a high metabolism and liked to run in the mornings. Plus he pretty much only lived off caffeine and the occasional bagel.

Friends were easy, because he didn't want any, so he simply didn't have any, just acquaintances.

Law school was a little harder, but nowhere near hard like it was for some people.

Detachment was easy...Mainly because he hadn't really ever cared about anyone or anything since he was thirteen years old. Detachment from a case, whether it be murder, child abuse, a kidnapping—he never got emotionally involved. And that's why he was good at his job. Because he could use whatever means necessary to find out more and get another win under his belt and against his name, whether that meant screwing a cute but geeky IT guy to hack a computer system, or bugging a sexy PA after he had taken him right in his office.

But then the cute but geeky IT guy had made things hard.

He had confused things in Connor's head, and made him realize that his life wasn't all that together as he thought.

Oliver Hampton.

Oliver Hampton had fucked it all up for Connor.

He thought that he had everything all figured out; his life was set on track. He liked the way he was living it. He liked the mindless sex, not answering to anyone, throwing himself into work at all hours of the night and day, living on a diet of caffeine and adderall. He liked his SUV, which his father had brought him as a late birthday present a few years ago to make up for the fact he actually forgot Connor's birthday because he was so caught up in wife number four. Or wife number five. Connor had lost count. He liked riling up Micheala Pratt, who's need to control everything made him want to pull her perfect hair out, or Asher Millstone, who he secretly actually thought was an okay guy, just a complete douche on the outside. He liked coming home to his apartment, which was neat and tidy, not a thing out of place and only half a bottle of milk and a quarter bottle of vodka in the fridge. He liked only seeing his dysfunctional family on the holidays, given the only family members he actually loved was his sister, and the brats he called his niece and nephew.

But now Oliver made him feel as though there was more that he was missing out on.

He made him feel like there should be something more.

Something more that he could be a part of.

And like he should want that something more.

Oliver was kind of a mess. He forgot where he put his glasses every morning, and fumbled around for a good minute or so before he found them in the exact same place that he always put them on the bedside table. He got excited every time there was a re-run of Fresh Prince of Bel-Air and Friends on TV, even though he had seen every episode a hundred times over. He sometimes wore mismatched socks and he hated clothes that drew attention toward himself, which is why he brought suits that didn't fit properly and weren't tailored to his body.

But Oliver could hold a conversation about the sky rocketing interest rates and the plummeting property markets.

He had friends who were happily married and had kids, or kids on the way.

He brought expensive, high thread count sheets and actually washed and changed them every weekend.

He remembered to get his car serviced without weird sounds or lights coming on to give him a warning.

He had enough savings to buy his own fucking house if he wanted too.

He got on well with his whole family.

He knew how to cook.

He wanted a pet.

He watched the friggin' morning news.

Connor wasn't an adult like Oliver was. Oliver was a properly together adult that Connor had always made fun of. He had liked having no responsibility and being selfish and not caring about anything or anyone else. But Oliver made him want to be like that.

"Hey!" Oliver called from the kitchen, catching Connor's attention from where he was stretched out on the couch, his eyes glued to where Arrow was playing on TV. "You know, a little help would be appreciated." He raised his eyebrows pointedly and then looked over at the pile of dishes he had just finished washing and propped up on the drying rack. Connor pouted as he met his eyes, sticking out his lower lip.

"But...Colton Haynes is back on..." he batted his eyelashes at his lover.

"You think I'm going to let you off drying the dishes because you're perving up a hot guy on TV?" Oliver asked. Connor didn't say anything, just grinned cheekily and Oliver rolled his eyes. "Yeah, whatever. He is pretty beautiful," he relented, and wiped his hands down on a tea-towel, tossing it onto the bench before joining Connor on the couch. Connor immediately shifted from where he had been stretched out over the couch, spreading his legs to let Oliver settle between them and slung an arm over his shoulders. He rested his chin on Oliver's shoulder, his lips brushing the back of his ear as Oliver leaned into him, making himself comfortable so he could watch the show. It was over twenty minutes later, and Oliver made a move to get up and go back to the kitchen but Connor grumbled and moaned and twisted himself around so that he had Oliver pinned to the cushions underneath him. "Connor! Come on! We need to finish off the dishes!"

"But do we really?" Connor gave him a devilish smirk and dropped a kiss to Oliver's mouth, quickly working his way over his jawline and down the side of his neck. Oliver's eyes fluttered closed but then he tried to push Connor away.

"No, no, no, no! We need to finish off the dishes! And wipe down the bench! And I need to get my lunch ready for tomorrow—"

"'Adulting' is too hard! Let's just forget about it for a while!" Connor tried to distract him, his hands finding the hem of Oliver's shirt and jerking it upward.

"No, no, no, no!" Oliver cried, shoving Connor away and rolling off the couch, getting on all fours and crawling toward the kitchen. Connor groaned and dropped himself face down on the couch, letting out a frustrated shout into the couch cushion. "Connor—come on. I cooked dinner! And then I washed the dishes. That means that you at least have to dry them." Connor continued to groan into the cushion until he realized that Oliver wasn't backing down, and he rolled over, pouting again.

"Or I could just blow you while you dry the dishes?" He grinned. Oliver laughed and shook his head, turning his back to Connor as he picked up the tea-towel and picked up the first plate. He had dried down the first few plates and was piling them on the bench before Connor rolled over on the couch and looked over at his boyfriend.

He was right.

Oliver always cooked dinner, when Connor didn't buy take out.

And he pretty much always washed the dishes—but mainly because he was so pedantic and he claimed that Connor didn't wash them properly.

So it would be fair that Connor should dry.

He got up and walked over to the kitchen, reaching around and snatching the tea-towel from Oliver's grasp and giving him a nudge with one shoulder.

"Oh? You decide you want to 'adult' with me now?" Oliver teased him, stepping back and bracing his arms back on the island behind him. Connor just rolled his eyes at him as he began drying to dishes, moving around the kitchen to put them away. Oliver watched him silently, his eyes darkening as Connor finished drying the dishes, and then put away the drying rack, and then wiped down the bench and hung the tea-towel over the railing in front of the oven. He turned around with a shit-eating grin on his face.

"See? I can 'adult' just fine," Connor grinned, spreading his arms out to display the clean kitchen. "Dishes all done—" he was cut off by Oliver jumping forward, his hands on either side of Connor's neck and pulling his face hard against his. Connor let out a noise at the back of his throat in surprise, but it never took him long to recover, especially when it came to things that lead to sex. He pushed back against Oliver, but it was clear that his lover wanted to be the one in charge, ripping off Connor's clothes and dropping to his knees in front of him. "I didn't realize drying dishes was such a turn on for you."

"Everything you do is a turn on for me," Oliver rasped out. His mouth surrounded Connor, his tongue curling around him as his blunt fingernails scratched up and down his toned thighs and then curved around to dig into his firm ass. The moans coming out of Connor's mouth spurred Oliver on, and they were soon a mess on the kitchen floor, their bodies tangled together.

Once Connor had decided what he wanted—Oliver, and a life with him—he moved quickly. But he always had when he had his mind set on a goal.

Connor's sister noticed the difference when he went to spend a few days with her over Christmas. He hadn't spoken to his family about Oliver yet, because it was all new and different, and so Gemma Walsh had invited a gay man who worked in her building to come to her annual Christmas Eve dinner. He was definitely good looking, with a sinful looking mouth; the exact type of man that Connor would usually go for.

But he didn't.

He wasn't even tempted.

Gemma had known something was up then. And when Connor had told her that he was seeing someone, that it was only new but that it felt serious, she had almost passed out. Connor and Gemma had always got on well, and she had never judged him for the way that he had slept around, but there had been definite pride glowing in her eyes when she said 'her slutty little brother is finally growing up', and threw her arms around him.

It felt good.

Oliver called him on Christmas morning—clearly Connor had been his first thought because his voice was still rough with sleep. They had talked over the phone for almost half an hour, Oliver recounting his families last night antics. His aunt had gotten drunk and starting singing Mariah Carey. His younger sister had brought home her new boyfriend, and after Olivers father had had a few drinks, he begun grilling the younger man. Connor liked the way Oliver's family was such a...Family. So loving of each other. He couldn't imagine his own family like that.

He also liked that Oliver ended the conversation with 'they want to meet you'.

A little bit scared—yes.

But not high-tailing it in the opposite direction like he would have before. Admittedly, he had never actually got to the point in a relationship where they were meeting each others families, because the longest 'relationship' he had had before Oliver was a guy he saw ten or so times over the span of a few months, which was only for a quick fuck.

And that was when he made his decision.

Oliver was away for a week over Christmas, whereas Connor was only gone for three days. As soon as he got back to his apartment, he started packing up his things. There really wasn't much that he needed, and a lot of it was just there because his sister had insisted that he get furniture and all the necessary kitchen utensils. He put a lot of his things into storage, although Oliver didn't have an espresso machine, so that was definitely coming. And his TV was also bigger, so that was coming as well.

Working for Annalise Keating, and by extension, Frank Delfino, had taught him a few things, including how to pick a lock. Probably not the best thing, but it came in handy now. Oliver had mentioned getting him a key a month or so ago, but Connor had froze up, taken aback by the question, and Oliver and quickly told him that it didn't matter, saying they could talk about it later.

Well, Connor was definitely going to need a key now.

Given he had just moved his ass in and all.

The first night in the apartment, by himself, Connor almost moved all his shit back out in a panic. Instead, he had forced himself to stay, and had just drunk himself into a stupor with almost a full bottle of whiskey. The second night in the apartment, Connor reorganized the kitchen about three times, trying to fit in the espresso machine to the tightly fitted together appliances. The third night...Oliver was coming home.

"I'm going to be in my apartment in, like, two minutes," Oliver was saying into his phone. "I'm going to dump all my stuff and then I'm coming right over."

"I can meet you at yours," Connor said, as he looked around Oliver's apartment. He was sitting on the couch, drumming his fingers nervously against his knee.

"Someone's impatient," Oliver teased.

"You have no idea," Connor replied honestly. Oliver meant he was impatient sexually—which Connor definitely was—but for once, it wasn't sex that Connor needed the most right now. Which was a hurdle overcome in and of itself. What he needed right now, was Oliver to tell him that this was what he wanted.

Moving in together.

Because he felt the most scared that he had ever felt in his life as the pair hung up the call and Connor waited for Oliver to walk in. He heard the scratch of Oliver sliding the key into the lock and he stood up, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans, swallowing nervously as he waited for him to walk in. Oliver stumbled in a minute later, not noticing Connor at first as he dumped down his bags and then walked over the kitchen island and put down his keys and phone. He spun around and then let out an adorable squeak when he saw Connor standing there.

"Ohmygod!" He let out a laugh as Connor gave him a sheepish smile, walking a few steps closer to him. "What? You're breaking and entering now?" He tilted his head to the side and raised his eyebrows. "You think that's more fun than just getting a spare key."

"Uh, well," Connor took in a deep breath. "I think I'll take you up on that spare key now." Oliver's smile faded slightly and he frowned a little. It was then that he actually looked around, noting Connor's law books on the coffee table, and two pairs of his expensive leather shoes on the shoe rack. His TV was gone, replaced with Connor's sixty inch, and there were a few more DVD's in the entertainment cabinet. He turned and looked at the kitchen and took in the espresso machine next to the microwave and then he turned and looked back at Connor, his mouth open.

"What have you done?" He asked flatly. Connor's face dropped and he locked his jaw, swinging back on the heels of his feet as he tried to find the right words.

"I, uh...I moved in," he admitted.

"You moved in?" Oliver's eyes were wide.

"I...Yeah?" This was the most nervous Connor had ever been. In his life. And that was saying a lot, given who he worked for. Oliver stared at him for a long few minutes before the biggest smile broke out over his face. Connor still wasn't completely reassured. "This is...Okay?"

"It's more than okay," Oliver let out a laugh. He closed the space between them and cupped Connor's face. "Fuck. It's probably the best Christmas present anyone could ever give me." Connor's expression finally relaxed and he grinned back, lunging forward to attack his boyfriends mouth. Oliver grappled with his clothes, pushing down his own jeans and then reaching out for Connor's. They were naked within a few moments and Connor pushed Oliver back until he was shoved against the counter. They reached for each other, fingers scratching as their teeth nipped at one anothers mouths. Oliver was reaching out for the lube that they kept in the second drawer when Connor reached out to grab his wrist, pulling him back so that they were staring at each other, breathing heavily.

"I love you, Ollie," he choked out. Oliver's eyes were dancing as he stroked his thumb over Connor's collarbone.

"I love you too, Connor."

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