Connor comes home from work late. Oliver, it seems, tried to stay up waiting for him but passed out on the couch. The television screen shows the Netflix menu, and there’s some stale popcorn on the coffee table beside a half-finished bottle of beer. Oliver’s glasses are there, too, close to the edge.
Connor walks to Oliver and shakes his shoulder. “I’m home, baby.”
Oliver just turns his head further into the couch cushion and mumbles something incoherent.
Connor watches him for a moment, smiling wide because no one can see. Then he walks into the bedroom. He takes off his clothes, hangs up his suit. When he’s down to his tank top and boxers, he grabs a blanket off the bed and shuffles back into the living room.
He clicks off the tv, and then unceremoniously drapes himself and the blanket across Oliver’s sleeping form.
Oliver startles awake with an umph! He blinks a few times before his dark eyes focus on Connor. “You’re home,” he says and starts to smile.
Connor glances away from Oliver’s wide smile, the one that’s so cute it threatens to make him blush just looking at it. Connor Walsh does not blush. “Yeah.”
"Good." Oliver wraps his arms around Connor and pulls him closer. Their lips meet, and just as Connor goes to deepen the kiss, Oliver breaks it. His head turns, eyes closed, and he starts to snore.
"Are you kidding me right now?" Connor laughs, but when Oliver doesn’t stir, when his lips don’t even twitch with a hidden smile, Connor knows he’s genuinely asleep.
"Fine," Connor sighs, ever suffering. "In the morning, then."
He lowers his head to Oliver’s chest. Oliver is so warm. And his arms, even in sleep, hold Connor like something precious, something to be protected.
Just like this, somewhere between one heartbeat and the next, Connor falls asleep and dreams of sunshine.