lee_fallon | AU - Evening at Lee's Apartment

It's been a mediocre day. Lee'd gone for treatment, which had been more tedious than usual because of uncooperative veins (and he has a bruise on his right arm the size of a peach to show for it), but he'd also done a six mile run that had felt better than any recent ones he could remember. He had a feeling his extracurricular cardio (sex) had at least a little something to do with it, and thinking about it made him smile.

As soon as he got home, he sent Connor a text message, mostly to say hi and ask if maybe he'd want to come by later for dinner. Lee didn't cook much these days, but he had some packaged noodles and he was very adept at ordering for takeout.

He didn't do this much, invite Connor over for something that sounded like it could be a date more than a hookup. But they were friends (if the kind with benefits), and Lee felt like he could use some company. Connor had been busy lately with school (and what sounded like an unpaid job for a lawyer who frankly scared the hell out of Lee), so there was a good chance he wouldn't be available, but Lee had been thinking about it all afternoon and thought he might as well take the chance.

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"Aren't they all?" he says, biting his lip over a grin for a moment before he steps past Lee into the apartment. "I did bring beer, though, so...you know. Not all bad."

Lee locks the door behind Connor then trails him to the kitchen where Connor is taking out a beer and finding Lee's bottle opener in the drawer.

"I keep thinking one of these days that professor of yours is going to give you a break," he says, standing near but not too close to give Connor room to breathe. "Not today, apparently."

He flips the cap off his bottle and immediately takes a long swallow. It's slightly warm but it tastes unbelievably freaking good. When Lee speaks, Connor snorts and shakes his head.

"Annaliese does not give breaks," he says. "Ever."

Lee smiles softly in sympathy. "Well, this is an expectation free zone," he says, sharing a gaze with Connor for a moment longer before he heads to the corner to select a bottle of wine for himself. He considers a couple, then grabs a floral red, bringing it back to the counter.

"You can do or not do anything you want tonight," he tells Connor as he pulls out his corkscrew and starts twisting it into the cork. "Let me know if I can do anything to help you relax."

"Good," says Connor, watching Lee deal with the bottle of wine. He takes another pull on his beer, makes a conscious decision to let go of his work day and relax. He can do it. His phone is in his bag. He can not think about work for a while. "We could watch a movie?"

God. That probably sounds unbelievably lame.

Lee blinks, not because he's opposed to the idea, but rather because Connor has never wanted to do anything with him that doesn't involve eating or require them to be at least partially naked. He's so caught off guard that he stands there for a minute holding his open bottle of wine before he remembers he meant to pour himself a glass.

"We can absolutely watch a movie," he says, shaking himself back into reality. He pours his glass of wine, then does something else they've never done before, leaning in and kissing the side of Connor's mouth, just a little peck of affection and reassurance.

"I don't own any DVDs," he says once he's let Connor go, walking over to what he uses as his television, a large flatscreen computer monitor hooked up to a laptop. "But I have Netflix," he explains, kneeling on the floor to boot up the computer. "What kinds of movies do you like?"

It's only a little kiss, barely there at all, but Connor leans into it slightly, surprised by the blush of warmth that follows it. It's not got a lot to do with sex, a kiss like that, but it's unbelievably welcome, all the same. He takes another swallow of his beer and then sits, leaning forward over his knees for a moment to unlace his boots.

"I'll watch whatever," he says. "I'm easy."

It's a dangerous amount of freedom Connor is giving him here, and it leaves Lee with a decision he has to make. He's way too old to worry about what someone might think about his tastes, but he can't help the little bit of nervous energy that comes when he logs into Netflix and tries to find something for them to watch.

He ends up letting Netflix recommend something, a romantic drama called Last Love that's supposedly about a widowed professor who falls in love with a beautiful, young dance instructor in Paris. He hopes either Connor won't hate it, or will get distracted by something else before he decides Lee's taste in movies is so bad he doesn't want to stick around.

Settling in beside Connor, he grabs his glass of wine, sitting close enough that their shoulders are touching, their knees, but nothing else.

"I hope this is okay," he says as he relaxes back a bit, feeling content himself, just being with Connor like this, coexisting.

The little points of contact are nice. Connor pulls a cushion into his lap and hugs it against him, not to set a barrier up between them or anything but because the slightly warm weight in his lap is nice. He leans his shoulder against Lee's slightly. He's surprised by how nice it feels.

"I'm sorry if I'm, like, monopolising your evening," he says, finally, after watching the movie in silence for about twenty minutes.

Lee's comfortable like this, Connor leaning against his side, a glass of wine in hand. Even once he's finished it, he doesn't move to refill it, not wanting to disturb the moment.

"I invited you over, remember?" he answers when Connor breaks the silence. "I wanted to see you. And if this is helping you relax at all, that's even better."

"I remember," says Connor, resting his head briefly against Lee's should before he lifts his head and takes another swallow of his beer. The apartment is warm and cosy and he's feeling relaxed for the first time all week. "We should get take out."

"That is a great idea," Lee replies, setting aside his empty wine glass and shifting enough to dig his cell phone out of his pocket. "What are you in the mood for? Pizza? Chinese? Can you get Indian delivered around here?"

"You can get great Indian food delivered around here," says Connor, lifting his ass off the sofa for a moment to dig for his phone in his pocket. He pages through a few screens before he holds out a menu to Lee.

Lee leans in toward Connor, reading the menu off his phone. The selection of this particularly restaurant is amazing, and Lee's mouth is already watering in anticipation.

"Do you trust me to order for both of us?" he asks, keying up the phone number in his own phone in preparation to call, "or do you have any specific requests?"

"Go ahead," says Connor, draining the last of his beer and setting his phone down on Lee's knee as he gets up to fetch another. "You need anything while I'm up?"

"Can you refill my wine, please?" Lee asks, tucking his phone between his ear and shoulder so he can grab his empty glass and hand it to Connor. He watches Connor move around the kitchen as he orders their food, pulling out his credit card so he can read the number over the phone.

"She said thirty minutes," he tells Connor as he disconnects the call, setting his own phone aside and picking up Connor's to turn off the screen.

It strikes him as ridiculously domestic, all of a sudden, as he takes Lee's glass and refills it carefully, pausing to open another beer, dropping the spent bottle into the receptacle that seems to hold Lee's recycling.

"She always says that," he says, carrying the drinks back to the sofa, padding on his sock feet. "No matter how long it takes."

Lee reaches out to take his wine glass back from Connor and their fingers brush softly in the exchange. It feels nice, affectionate, and Lee finds himself wanting more of the same. He realizes then that he's never held Connor's hand, and he can't actually remember the last time he held anyone's.

He barely resists the urge to grab Connor's hand and pull him back down sitting. "Do you want to put the movie back on while we wait?" he asks, hoping Connor will sit and curl back into his side for a few more minutes.

"Sure," says Connor, settling back down on the couch and, this time, maybe, he sits a little bit closer to Lee, presses in a little. "I was actually starting to get invested."

Lee mostly manages to contain a smile, pleased not only that Connor's enjoying the movie but also that he seems to be enjoying Lee's company. They've spent time together, even went on a weekend getaway, but this is the first time they've just spent a night in like this, just coexisting without sex being on the immediate horizon. It's not that Lee doesn't like all the sex, he loves it. This just feels like something more.

He knows he's not supposed to let this happen. Connor's not interested in having a boyfriend and Lee knows being close to someone is selfish, knowing what's coming for him in the not to distant future. But it's hard to deny the way he feels.

"I wasn't sure if you'd like this or not," Lee says, fighting the urge to put his arm around Connor's shoulders. "I don't actually know what kinds of movies you like."

"I...Honestly?" He glances at Lee, taking a sip of his beer. "Don't...really watch movies on my own? In college I had better things to do with my time, and now I work for Annaliese and I'm freakish busy all the time." He smiles. "You think I'm unbearably shallow, right? I can hear you thinking it."

"Shallow? No," Lee replies, his eyes on Connor's face. "More like driven. I can't even imagine what law school must be like." He shakes his head, then takes a sip of his wine.

"Do you know what I got my degree in? Business and restaurant management," he tells Connor once he's swallowed. "Talk about shallow."

Connor shakes his head, a smile lifting the corner of his mouth.

"Useful," he says. "I got my degree in Literature because I love books, waned to go to Harvard but then I figured I'd better make myself useful. So. Middleton."

"A Literature degree from Harvard has got to be useful on its own," Lee replies, still more than a little impressed by Connor's credentials. He pauses a moment, contemplating, then asks, "What made you decide you wanted to be a lawyer? Besides wanting to be useful?"

"If you want to end up an adjunct professor somewhere, maybe," he says, grinning. "But can you really see me pulling that off? I do not look great in cardigans." He shrugs. "My dad was a lawyer. He always did pretty well for himself."