THE CHASE - Connor x OC (I Am Sequel)

Chapter 3

It's time to get a little awkward. 

Connor and I have an abysmal sex life. It doesn't bother us, but...we certainly feel the need to inflate the numbers. I don't have to sleep often, and Connor doesn't have to sleep at all so the few times other coupled up friends have asked us "How's the bedroom?" as if they feel it's their responsibility to check up on it, we've felt the need to inflate the numbers a little. I'm sure most of our friends they must think we fuck like rabbits.

Realistically, Connor and I literally never want to have sex. Maybe...once a month, if were lucky? But again, it doesn't bother us. Most nights we'd rather watch TV or read books together...or do anything drunk. Have you tried watching any television show drunk? Every joke is way funnier and every death is way sadder.

Tonight, we've elected to read Gone Girl drunk. Yes, we could download it, but somethings are better left experienced. The tension behind every page, or us drunkenly making comments to one another.

"Oh my God, this guys name is Lance Nicholas Dunne," Connor slurred out.

"Was Nick named after this douche?" I stammered.

"Don't be silly," Connor said, playfully slapping my arm. "That douche was named after Nick."

We chuckled far too hard over that. Connor seemed distracted after that, locked only into my eyes.

"What?" I chuckled.

"You're adorable," Connor smiled.

"I try," I giggled.

Connor snuggled closer to me on the couch, and we both delve into our books a bit more.

~

The next morning, I jumped in the shower, which at some points seems almost silly, and packed my bag. I tend to dress like a detective. A brown tan jacket, tan dress pants and a white button down. Connor, on the other hand, tends to dress like a bad ass. He, of course, puts on a black tailored suit which is decked out with just about every single high tech thing you could think of.

My bag is packed with just about the skimpiest outfit I could find. It might as well be lingerie. Nick and I have planned this undercover mission for months. Tonight, according to every single expert we met, is the night where the murderer will strike again.

Perhaps if were lucky, we can save a poor young soul from getting overdosed on red ice. If were not lucky...then Nick and I will just have to acknowledge that this case has been far too hard for us.

Anyway...we'll club hop across 5 clubs tonight, each of us at different ones with a strike team for each of us and in constant communication between us. We'll look for anyone who matches the profile and determine whether or not they're the one.

Connor must've seen me brooding over my duffel bag because he walked over and gently rub my head. As if she also felt compelled to comfort me, Blueberry ran over and gently placed a paw on top of my hand. I chuckled a little.

"I'm fine. Just thinking," I explained.

"Thinking about what?" Connor asked. Oh, the questions again.

"The strategy tonight," I answered petting Blueberry.

"Why?"

"I don't know. I guess I want to make sure I have it down? I'm worried. It's important. I don't want to be incompetent."

"You're not incompetent."

"Nick and I solve 1 drug case per week. We've had this case on our caseload for over a year. You and Hank solve a murder every 3 days. Needless to say, I feel slightly incompetent."

"You're not incompetent. Your cases are different."

"Oh...are they? I feel like homicide is harder to solve than drugs and you don't have one unsolved case."

"I don't? How do you know that?" He asked.

"Because you're you?" I responded.

"What...is that supposed to mean?" He asked, kneeling down to my level.

"Do you have an unsolved case?"

"Well...no but"

"See my point?" I responded zipping closed my bag and standing up. "What's your secret, Connor?"

"Your mistake is thinking it's me. It's Hank. Hank can put that human touch on everything. Maybe Nick just isn't as refined with his yet."

"Maybe," I sighed. Clever answer, Connor. Very clever. We walked down the stairs and took the car to the station.

Walking in, it was already bustling with people. Hank was ready for Connor and Nick was ready for me. Some days, it feels like babysitting. Some days, we come to the station to receive our children and watch them play, safely of course. Other days, Connor and I are the babysat.

Gavin was sitting on the edge of Nick's desk and they were dressed quite similarly. Black shirt, tan leather jacket, jeans. It became quite clear around the time they started sharing clothes when Nick suddenly came to work in a white button down while Gavin showed up in a black t-shirt.

Nick was holding his hand, and looking lovingly into his eyes, all the while explaining something.

"And you should know, I really don't give a shit about whether or not you clean the kitchen. Just. Don't. Move. My. Paprika," Nick smiled. I turned to Connor who shrugged. Quite often Nick and Gavin have wonderful lovers spats. Nick tends to hate your classic confrontation, so he compromises with this eerie stare and loving tone, all the while telling you all the ways you've fucked up. Sometimes we think Gavin hates it, but he always has this shiny, distracted look in his eyes. It's almost like he's lost in Nick himself.

"Oh, hey, Bolts," Nick said finally noticing me as I sat at my desk.

"Hi, Nick," I sighed.

"Are you ready for tonight?" He asked.

I nodded.

Sometimes, I wanted to reach over the desk and strangle Nick. Tell him "Fuck Gavin. Go get yourself, someone, you really love."

And Nick would respond something like. "I did fuck Gavin, and I decided I love him!"

And I would strangle him harder.

Sorry, that's sick of me, but I hate watching him like this. He's not the Big Dick Nick I used to know. He lost all charisma and chatter and humor. I don't know if it was my wedding or his, but something in him died. I think he does love Gavin, and Gavin loves him, but they drain the life out of each other.