“word around here is that you killed a SHIT TON of my men, and i can’t have that.” he drawls, lips sliding into a smirk, sure he’s fucking impressed, but people were resources, assets he needed in order to keep the sanctuary functioning properly. this shit would not fly, no sir! moments later he’s got his BELOVED BAT aimed at her face, eyes glimmering with malice.
You’ve been dating your partner for six months. Tonight they’ve invited you to a work event, and as you step onto the red carpet, you realize it for the first time: you’re dating a celebrity. (x)
Even Oliver had to admit that, to his credit, Connor hadn’t exactly lied.
He turned the invitation over in his hands and frantically tried to think of something–anything– to say. His mind was going a mile a minute but his mouth couldn’t form words.
“I know.” Connor put a hand on Oliver’s shoulder and leaned in. “I know it’s a big step. And a lot to ask but...I just thought that...” I just thought that wouldn’t be a that big of a deal. Why was Oliver so quiet? It was just the VMAs.
Over the past few days, Connor had envisioned dozens of ways how Oliver would react to the invitation. In some he was ecstatic, screaming at the top of his lungs. In others he was so touched and overwhelmed he cried a bit. But in none of scenarios that had played out in Connor’s mind had Oliver acted as cold and quiet as he was now.
He wished Oliver would just look at him. His boyfriend hadn’t taken his eyes off the gold embossed invitation since Connor had handed it over a few minutes ago. He’d known it was a big deal but he hadn’t thought it would be this much of a big deal. I mean, Oliver had to have known that at some point there would be something like this Connor would ask him to attend.
“Listen, Ollie, you don’t have to–”
“You told me your name was Connor.”
Connor blinked. Twice. “What?”
Oliver slapped the invitation down, face up, and pushed away from the counter to pace the living room. Connor glanced down at the invite and frowned. It was addressed to Patrick Walsh but of course it was. Why would Oliver be upset about that?
“My name is Connor,” he said, feeling dumb but not really understanding why. “Patrick is just a stage name.” Didn’t Oliver already know that? It seemed like everyone knew that. What the hell was happening?
“A stage name?” Oliver whipped around, crossing his arms over his chest and staring. “You have a stage name?”
“Yeah. Just something my dad suggested years ago.” Just something to keep a little bit of himself private. It was pretty useless now, when a simple Google search revealed to anyone that Patrick was really just his middle name, but it was something Connor still appreciated when strangers called out “Hey Pat!” in the middle of the grocery store. It was still a little invasive but he thought it might feel even stranger if they called him by the name his family and friends used.
“Your dad?” Oliver repeated.
Connor didn’t really know exactly how to answer that. “Yeah?”
“Your dad knows.”
It was on the tip of Connor’s tongue to say “Everyone knows" but it was clear from Oliver’s expression that not everyone knew. “Of course,” he said slowly. “It isn’t a secret.”
Oliver simply gaped at him. It wasn’t a secret. It wasn’t a secret?!? They had been together nearly a year and Connor just drops an invitation to the VMAs in his lap like it’s nothing and Oliver’s not supposed to be shocked. “What do you mean it wasn’t a secret?” he demanded.
Connor held both hands, palms up, in the air and looked around. “What are–I don’t–? I told you!”
“You told me you ‘played a little guitar,’” Oliver snapped at him.
He remembered the conversation perfectly. It’d been their first date, a setup Oliver had barely agreed to. They’d been making conversation, talking about books and films and other interests before Oliver’s curiosity finally got the better of him. “So what do you for a living?”
Connor had shot him an odd look Oliver hadn’t been able to read. “What do you mean?”
“For work,” Oliver had said with a bit of a shrug. “What do you do?”
Connor’s lips then twisted in an odd smile to go with the odd look in his eyes. “I...I play a little guitar,” he said with a small laugh Oliver didn’t understand.
When it was clear that Connor wasn’t going to elaborate, Oliver pressed on. “Really? That’s awesome. I played trumpet in high school but then college and well...” He trailed off with a shrug. “But it’s cool you play for a living. Are you in a band or something?”
Connor’s odd look and odd smile stayed firmly in place. “I was for a bit but...” He licked his lips. “Branched out on my own a few years ago.”
“That had to be scary.”
“It was.”
“But also brave,” Oliver commented, wondering if he’d struck a nerve. Connor had been pretty open until this point, laughing and sharing easily, but now he looked almost pained. Or was it embarrassed? Laurel hadn’t given him much info on Connor before tonight’s date. Maybe Connor was one of those struggling artists and discussing your career failings wasn’t really the best way to start off a first date. Right then Oliver decided he was A) picking up tonight’s check and B) changing the subject immediately. “I don’t know if I’d have the guts to go at it on my own.” He took a quick sip of his wine before pressing on, “Some friends got together a few years ago, started a consulting firm. They asked me to join in but...too chicken I guess,” Oliver said with a shrug.
Connor took a sip of his sparkling water before taking the bait. “What kind of consulting firm?”
“Tech,” Oliver had answered. “I’m in IT.” He’d then gone on to talk about his work for a few moments before subtly steering the conversation onto other topics.
Thinking back on that conversation now only fueled Oliver’s rage. “Playing a little guitar and being Patrick Walsh are two entirely different things, Connor!” Even Oliver–OLIVER–knew that Patrick Walsh was big deal.
If Ollie had his pop culture right, Patrick Walsh had been in a boy band a few years ago before releasing a solo album that had been number one or something. He thought Walsh had won a few Grammys for it but couldn’t quite remember. Pop music wasn’t really his forte, which should have been obvious from the fact that he’d been dating Patrick Walsh for nearly a year and hadn’t known it.
“I–” Connor started then stopped, clamping his mouth shut.
“You what? Say it,” Oliver demanded.
“I thought you knew,” Connor nearly yelled.
“You thought I knew? Why? Why would I have pretended to now know what you did?”
“Guys have before,” Connor snapped. He tugged a hand through his hair and wondered how a simple invite turned into a fight. He was never going to the VMAs ever again. “I thought–I thought you were faking like you didn’t know who I was or what I did so...I don’t know...so I’d be impressed or some shit.”
“Guys have tried that before?”
“Yeah.”
Connor said the word with a shrug, schooling his face into what he thought was an unemotional mask, but Oliver could see the pain fleeting across his features. It must hurt never knowing if the people you meet are being genuine. He took a small step forward, closing the gap between them just a touch. “Did it ever work?”
Connor’s eyes were just a bit guarded when they met Oliver’s. “No.”
Oliver took another step closer; they were within each other’s reach now. “You thought I was pretending,” he pointed out.
Connor huffed a laugh and reached out a hand. “You’re you,” he said, kissing Oliver’s palm. “I think anything you tried would have worked.”
Despite himself, the corner of Oliver’s mouth curled up in a grin. “Anything?” he teased.
“Yeah,” his boyfriend answered, all seriousness. “I...” Connor ducked his head down and licked his lips, working up the nerve. “I’m pretty sure I was gone on you the first time you smiled.”
With that one small confession, most of Oliver’s anger melted away. His boyfriend who still seemed to struggle a bit with ‘I love you’s had been gone on him since the first time he smiled.
Oliver brushed a strand of Connor’s hair back and sighed. “I think...I think there’s a lot we need to talk about.”
Connor let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in. Oliver wanted to talk about it. This wasn’t the end. They were going to talk and maybe fight more but it wasn’t over. Thank god. “I think there is too.” Then, “Do you want to start–?”
Oliver shook his head. “Not right now. It’s all still...fresh.”
“Okay. Whenever you want.” When the silence between them started to stretch out too long, he added, “Do you want to go get dinner or something?”
“Yeah. I think I’d like that.” Oliver glanced down at his ragged sweats and Connor’s much nicer dark-wash jeans. “You get us a table somewhere while I...” Oliver gestured to his clothes before heading into their bedroom but he paused briefly in the doorway, “And Connor?”
Con looked up from the phone he’d pulled out of his pocket. “Yeah Olls?”
“I’m not sure what strings you’ll have to pull but I want to look good when we walk that red carpet.”
Connor’s lips curled into a wicked grin. “Of course, Ollie. Anything for you.”
It had been a few months since the banishment to the Outlands Mirana had casted upon the duo, Iracebeth was chained up to Ilosovic when they left. It wouldn’t stay like that for long. They had found a way to unchain each other within the first day, the following week Iracebeth had found the simple minded plant people. She had been too busy yelling at them, making them to fall in her order that the Knave had been left int he dust. She didn’t need him anymore and he didn’t need her. Tensions grew due to that reason, the hate between them because so intense. And with that, the Knave had successfully, or at least in his mind; successfully planned out and demonstrated his own faked death.
He didn’t think he’d get away with it, but it had worked. And he had ran far with his already weak body could take him. He knew where he was going, someplace Iracebeth wouldn't even know about, someplace he knew he could hide out from her and start a new life. The old family farm.
Growing up, he lived on the boarder of the Outlands in a small little farm house with a sun rotted red barn next to it. When he got there, it was still there and looked more run down than it already had. His family was long gone, he was the last in his family line; so he wouldn’t have to worry about them being there, originally not too fond of his family.
