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A Fine Line Between Love and Hate

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"Connor, why is the kitchen covered in flour?"

The question comes from Oliver as he stands in the entry way, looking amused, if a bit concerned, at what he's come home from work to find. He's staring directly at Connor, who- much like the kitchen- is covered in flour. Connor stares back with a completely defeated expression.

"I was making cookies."

This makes Oliver laugh, but he stops when he registers the sheepishness in Connor's expression. After a pause, he lets his curiosity get the better of him. "...Why?"

"I just- Shit hit the fan at work," Connor explains, shaking just slightly. "Annalise sent everyone home. You weren't here and I couldn't just sit here and do nothing. I'd lose it. So I tried doing homework but that wasn't enough of a distraction and everyone was busy and-"

He's borderline panicking. Oliver can tell. It happens occasionally when Connor tries to bottle his stress for too long. Crossing the space between them in two steps, Oliver gently takes Connor's hands, just holding them, his gaze still locked with Connor's widened eyes.

"So... you're making cookies?"

Connor nods, looking down. Oliver starts laughing again, drawing a confused and offended glance from the flower covered male standing in front of him.

"What's so funny?" Connor asks, scowling. Oliver smiles, running an apologetic thumb over Connor's knuckles.

"You are. Here you are, stressed out to the verge of panic from whatever happened to you at work, and instead of calling me- which, by the way, is totally allowed when I'm at work- you decided to make cookies and somehow cover yourself and our entire kitchen in flower."

"Well... the flour part wasn't planned, but... yeah."

At this, Oliver presses his lips to Connor's forehead, still grinning when he pulls away. "You're incredibly adorable, y'know that?"

Connor smirks, planting a flower covered hand print on Oliver's slate colored gray sweater. "I know."