with theyremembermine || "All your secrets and your lies..."

[trueaussiedoc]

[ In the wake of THIS @ wayswithwords, follows end of How To Get Away With Murder 1x09 ]

Despite Connor's best attempts to get information out of Chase about one of their patients, who apparently killed someone in Philadelphia and then drove to Princeton (for some reason) and keeled over at the wheel, driving his car into a children's playground, his efforts were fruitless. At least, fruitless to that intention. Chase had been extremely tight-lipped with the information, not revealing anything and holding firm on his doctor-patient confidentiality, but he still ended up fucking Connor.

And so what? He had needs, and one of those was the fact he was constantly horny without an outlet of late. Whatever small things that had started had fizzled out before they turned into anything serious. Not that he was looking for something serious. He wasn't... at least, he didn't think so. He was divorced and all his past relationships had bombed, so there was that. But still, he had always been a romantic at heart, and maybe he was looking without realising? All he knew was that before Connor came along, even casual sex had been boring.

Though, Connor was very similar to him. Not just in personality, but in the do-anything-to-win ambition and dry sarcasm. Maybe the opposites attract was total bullshit, and what he needed was someone the same as him to challenge him and keep it interesting. Which is what happened when Connor showed up. They had fucked a few times now, and even though Chase expected him to lose interest when the patient was diagnosed and discharged from hospital, it didn't. In fact, only a week ago, they had met up in a hotel halfway between Philadelphia and Princeton for a really hot fuck... or five. Chase was late to work the next day, and didn't give a flying fuck about it.

He hadn't given Connor his home address, and vice-versa. All in all, they barely knew anything about each other beyond the Aussie doctor and law student thing. Chase was leaving work that night, planning on hitting the sack early. He was just checking his backed up text messages on his phone and unlocking his Jeep when suddenly Connor seemed to appear out of the shadows on the sidewalk and made Chase nearly shit himself. "What the fuck?!" he gasped in shock, hoping he wasn't about to have a heart attack. It was two beats of a pause, if that, where he quickly gave Connor the once over and he looked like hell. "... are you high? I've fucked someone on drugs in the past, and let's just say, it was a hot mess, so I'm not keen."

Comments

[theyremembermine]

In the past day and a half, Connor had cleaned the interior of his car no less than six different times, paranoid and terrified that there might be the slightest speck of evidence found that linked him to the murder. Especially considering that Asher had known that Connor's car was at the Keating residence around the time that Sam was murdered, even if it hadn't come up in discussion yet. He was terrified, and he felt sick even now, well over 36 hours later. He'd gone to Oliver, seeking comfort from the guy that he'd somehow weirdly connected with and whom he'd secretly hoped might actually be special to him, but standing there in Oliver's apartment, he'd wanted to connect with him -- to feel safe enough with him to be able to tell him everything -- but he just couldn't. He stood there in front of Oliver, trying to get the words to come, and when he'd tried, he'd just ended up lying and trying to escape the situation. It was only halfway to Princeton that he even realized where he was going, and that it was because the whole time he'd been standing in front of Oliver, he'd been thinking about Chase.

He hadn't slept in what seemed like an eternity. He was tired, and he was terrified, and these weren't sensations familiar to the cocky gay bitch that Connor had been for a long damn time. He didn't worry. He never got scared. He wasn't weak. And he sure as hell didn't fucking need anyone enough to make him travel this fucking far to reach out to them for help when he wasn't even sure what kind of help he was looking for. But here he was, and he had absolutely no reason to think that Chase would listen to him or would care or want to be involved in something so incredibly fucked up. But he'd been on autopilot and everything in him had brought him here, a mere shell... Nothing like his normal self. And he stood in front of Chase, terrified to the point that he was shaking, his face red from having been sick earlier and possibly crying, though he'd never admit it, and he shook his head at Chase's suggestion. "No... No, I'm not high. I just... Fuck, I don't know why I'm even here. I didn't know where else to go."