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It had taken Will Halstead two weeks to stop complaining about Connor Rhodes' presence at the hospital and another two weeks to start tolerating it. By the time he was ready to have a proper, civil conversation with the man, a month had gone by.
It didn't usually take Will this long to open to people and talk to them, but there was something about Rhodes- the way he came into the hospital for one, shouting orders and actually having them get done, despite the fact that he was a complete stranger and no one at the hospital knew or respected his judgement.
Over time, however, Will had begun to notice the way that authority sat on the slope of Rhodes' shoulders and chattered in his ear. He commanded it as efficiently and as effectively as Sharon Goodwin, but the contrast between how they utilised it was huge. Where Sharon was loud and blatant about her authority, Rhodes was quiet and subtle; such that you were following his orders without ever having realised you were following them at all.
It was strange, being ordered about. Will would find himself getting dopamine for a patient he had not been taking care of, simply because Rhodes had yelled the request from the trauma room as he passed by. It hadn't even been directed at him, probably at the nurses working with him, and yet he'd moved from his spot and crossed to the nurse station. When he mentioned this to April, however, she'd laughed and looked at him with her all-seeing eyes.
"You're annoyed because he reminds you of yourself," she laughed again. Her fingers played with a pen, clicking it repeatedly. "Both of you are cocky, arrogant and petulant."
"I am not!" Will replied huffily, crossing his arms over his chest before it dawned on him he was doing as she said. He let out a surprised breath and April pats his shoulder sympathetically.
"You'll get over it," she winked and laughed again at Will’s disapproving face.
Will had gaped into empty air for several minutes until Rhodes had walked by, pulling on gloves and giving Will a customary once over that lingered a little too long. "You're with me," he said, and Will followed him until he hit the trauma room and realised he just listened to him without question again.
There were other features of Rhodes that made him utterly insufferable. The way he moved for one, effortlessly and gracefully, completely certain of his path further annoyed Will, because he'd never seen someone move like water and yet not seem to care about it. It was this grace that allowed him to take everyone by surprise, walking everywhere on cat feet, quiet and full of pride.
He also had an air of being born into money, a man with a golden spoon in his mouth and rubies in his hair, and yet seemed displeased with it, as if having money something that he quietly disliked. Every time he used money he'd make a slight face, the bills between his fingers like sandpaper. It would be a lie to say that Will didn't envy him, not having to care about how much he spent or if he could pay this month's bill, but when he met Rhodes' father and sister all doubts were erased.
Will may not have that much money, but he had a brother who would protect him and parents who didn't scorn his presence because he'd chosen civil work. Rhodes had no family, and the ones he did have looked down at him from the edge of their well powdered nose and turned down their perfect lips. This treatment became apparent in the way he acted around people, always hiding behind this polite and politically correct mask. That made whatever Will felt towards Rhodes even more powerful, because there was simply nothing to fight about. Rhodes was so diplomatic and neutral all the time that in the end he left no room for a "what if" or a "that is an assumption". He covered all his bases and left no room for loopholes or bargains. This made Will live his days in quiet discomfort and dislike, watching Rhodes walk with the inbred stride of the powerful and the stunted stagger of the lonely.
The first time Will saw that mask break was after Rhodes had failed to save a runaway from a murder. The boy had only been six years old, bore an uncanny resemblance to Rhodes himself and had been running away from his father, who'd been overbearing and vicious. His father had found him not a day later and had driven over him with his car.
Rhodes had stared at him with the most broken eyes Will had ever seen and then tried his best to save him, give him his life back, give him some chance to have a future worth fighting for. Unfortunately, the car crash had cracked his skull, his little bones too fragile, and he was permanently brain dead two days after.
Rhodes had cursed so viciously when the boy slipped, a string of violent words somehow elegant in their hatred, and Will felt his heart break for a man who didn't want his sympathy. It was this nagging sense of pity that had him follow Rhodes when he clocked out, follow him all the way to a park which, at ten thirty in the night, was deserted.
Rhodes turned when he hit the park and gave Will a look that made him feel terribly guilty and completely unsure why he felt that way.
"Why're you following me?"
"No reason," Will immediately was defensive, then sighed and relented. He tried to remind himself that the reason he had come was to make sure Rhodes was not about to do something incredibly stupid instead of start another petty fight. He was done with fighting. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."
"I'm always okay," Rhodes was using his words like bullets, so vicious and angry that it seemed as if they could leave a tangible mark. "That's who I am."
"That's not who you are," Will put his hands into the pockets of his jacket and cocked his head at him. "You're a doctor. We're never okay."
Rhodes stared at him in silence, and then inclined his head in a gesture of solidarity and agreement. "I'll be fine," he said instead, then after a moment's pause he sat on a bench and looked at Will as if he was daring him to sit. Will sat. "I just thought I could do more. And the boy- It's my fault."
"That's dangerous thinking," Will replied and looked upwards. There were no stars; all of them were drowned out by the ambient light of Chicago. He suddenly felt lonesome, adrift upon the sea-blue eyes of Rhodes with no light. "You shouldn't go there. You did your best, that's what counts. We are doctors, not gods."
"It drives us," Rhodes argued, his hands scrubbing at his jeans as if he’s trying to remove a mark. "If you don't think you can do more to save a person you never will."
"Then that's all there is?" Will raised his eyebrows, one hand nearly reached out to stop Rhodes from rubbing his hand raw.
"That's all there is left," Rhodes replied, and they sat in silence for a long while.
Rhodes looked at him during this time, and something in Will unwound, and he opened his mouth. “Why did you become a doctor?” he asked, his hands finally reaching out and stopping Rhodes hand from moving. They’re bone cold and shake a little. “I did it because my dad would come home torn up from a case in Chicago. He was a detective, like my brother, and the wounds he would come back with- I started to patch him up, and then I wanted to help people too. But not with guns,” Will broke off, his mouth twisted in distaste. “But concretely, you know? I wanted to make a difference when everyone else had given up hope.”
“My father was a terrible man,” Rhodes started; his eyes too, find the sky. They seemed sad and ethereal among the darkness of the night. “There was red in his ledger, all over it. It dripped and flowed in fountains from his feet, and he would laugh and tell us to step over it, to dip our hands and have a taste,” his voice broke on the last syllable. He continued to look at the sky, eyes alighting on one solitary star alone in the sky. “I ran away. I ran so far so that he couldn’t find me, but a week after I’d settled in Riyadh he sent me a postcard. It had a smiley face as the picture and all he’d written was hello. I became a doctor to erase the hurts that he’d done, the people he’d made suffer. And it seems I am not even good at that.”
“You are not your father,” Will took a daring leap of faith and gently twined his fingers with Rhodes’. “You don’t need to pay for what he did.”
“I will always have to pay for what he did,” Rhodes cocked his head at the star in the sky before turning to Will and smiling bitterly. “It is the price I pay for money.”
Will simply hummed and looked away from his chilling stae. Moments later, Rhodes got up and quiet as a spectre, he slipped away.
The next day, Rhodes had walked in with dim eyes but a smile and a clap on the back for Will. He was a jerk to everyone but he was nice to Will, and at that thought something broke and released in him. Later, on the rooftop watching the sun dip beneath the skyscrapers, Rhodes would offer him a cup of coffee and a thank you that floated on the wind and away before the words were fully audible. It didn't matter. Will had heard it anyway.
Whatever happened between them on the park bench had been the catalyst to a completely new relationship that Will was still unsure as to how it happened. Becoming friends with Rhodes was never questioned, it was just accepted, like how you accepted bad traffic and cold coffee in the morning. Thinking back on it now, Will could hardly remember a time that hadn't had the blue eyed man featuring in it. Memories before Rhodes gave Will a vague sense that they were lacking, but in what he couldn't say. Everything without him was blurry and out of focus, a photograph with too much exposure.
When they were alone in the break room, it wasn't the heavy, awkward silence that it was, the silence stemming from Will's partial jealousy and Rhodes' guarded tongue, but now it was a comfortable one, a quiet that patted your head and asked you how you were doing.
It was this comfortability, Will supposed, that led to Rhodes asking him if he'd like to join him for dinner. When the question had been asked, alarm bells had immediately gone off in his head, screaming, "THIS IS A DATE!" However, as he studied his open expression and easy smile, it occurred to Will that Rhodes had no idea of his impact on women and men alike, and how his advances could be misconstrued. Will realised dazedly that he was taking too long to reply and nodded, a quick jerk of his head that led to Rhodes clapping him on the back and grinning at him.
"Do you like Italian?" He asked, and there was a pause.
Will finally found his voice. "Yeah," he shrugs, and gives Rhodes his trademarked smile he saved for blonde girls and now apparently blue eyed men. Rhodes eyes flashed in return, but whether that had been for his smile Will wasn't sure. He liked to think that it was. "I'm cool with anything but spicy food."
"Spicy?" Rhodes laughed, surprised, and Will decided he quite liked his surprised laugh. It sounded more genuine than anything Rhodes had ever been, and the corners of his eyes had crinkled delightfully. "I used to be the same, but living in Riyadh kind of forces you to change."
"One day you're going to tell me about that," Will was genuinely interested. He'd seen Rhodes shirtless, an image that played frequently in his head, especially when he was in the shower. The tattoos that lined his back had also been intriguing and disproportionally attractive. Will was shallow and Rhodes was hot.
"Sure," Rhodes is still grinning at him, the corner of his eyes crinkling as he did. "Remember, Halstead. I’ll be outside at eight o clock."
"Okay."
By the grace of some divine entity, it was a slow day and both Rhodes and Will were able to clock out on time.
Will was unbearably nervous and didn't understand why. It wasn't like he hadn't been on dates with men before, but being around Rhodes and guessing that this was a not really date but at the same time it was a date was messing with his head. He actually jumped when Rhodes tapped him on the shoulder and gestured to his car, which surprisingly, was an old model BMW and not an obnoxious Peugeot or Ferrari.
When Rhodes saw Will raise an eyebrow, he suddenly felt inclined to defend himself. For some reason, he did not want Will's hostility. "I want to use as little of my dad's money as possible," he explained as he slid into the driver's seat. "This one was mine before I left for Riyadh."
"You don't have to explain yourself to me," Will stubbornly replied, hands folded carefully on his lap. "It's fine."
Rhodes started, Will could see the small jerk of his shoulders that relaxed almost instantly. If he hadn't been trained to be observant, he would've missed it. "Alright then," Rhodes said quietly, and the BMW stuttered to life. "You wouldn't happen to have a curfew, would you?"
"I think that that would be getting home in time to sleep so that I don't accidentally decapitate a patient the next day," Will shrugged, then smiled teasingly at Rhodes. "But hey man, whatever works for you."
Rhodes didn't look back at him, his eyes trained attentively on the road, but the grin he made nearly split his face.
The BMW was shit. The engine sputtered and jerked the car forward like Will getting out of bed in the morning and the air conditioning seemed to come from everywhere but the vents. It had also clearly seen its days of street racing, judging from the cuff marks along the rims and the sides of the doors from where it had nicked curbs and sidewalks.
The backseat was covered in recipes from the same pizza store, and all the same thing, a deep dish prosciutto e fungi. A reusable bottle of water was half filled and leaning against one the doors, such that if said door was opened the bottle would fall out. There was a leather jacket carelessly strewn across the seats, one of its sleeves dragging carelessly onto the floor, but there was a book placed gently on top. It read A Long Way Down by Nick Hornby, and it was obvious from the strategic positioning of the book on the seat that Rhodes thought the book to be important and worth protecting. Will turned this information over in his head but was interrupted by the engine giving a loud hacking cough and nearly staggering to a stop.
"How is this still running?" Will wondered after a while, and it was only the small jump of Rhodes at the sudden break in the silence that gave away the fact that he'd been audible about his incredulity.
"It's sustained by an incredible amount of faith and divine magic," Rhodes patted the dash fondly. "And also a few cubic metres of duct tape."
"Doesn't the upkeep cost more than a new car?"
"It does," Rhodes shrugged his shoulders, a careless gesture that showed how much he cared. "But my mother had given me this car."
The car hummed as if in response to Rhodes' statement. "I have a duty of care," he murmured, and Will didn't push the matter further.
The place Rhodes brought him to was small and out of the way, a tiny Italian restaurant owned by a young couple who really shouldn't be that good at making spaghetti al nero di seppia.
"Jesus," Will was actually experiencing a religious moment, so this was the opposite of using the Lord's name in vain. "How did you find this place?"
"Accident," Rhodes grinned at him from across a plate of sugo all'arrabbiata. "Couple of years back my car broke down right outside."
"God is real," Will blinked solemnly at him and twirled his spaghetti around his fork. "Seriously, Rhodes. You've been blessed with the knowledge of the holy grail."
Rhodes flinched almost imperceptibly. "Connor," he said. His hands handled the cutlery like he did a scalpel, cutting into his pasta with small neat incisions. "If there's no Doctor in front of it, it's Connor. Rhodes is my father's name."
"Then it's Will too," he countered and made a face. "Halstead makes me feel like I'm my brother."
"Deal," Rhodes- Connor flashed him a glimpse of white teeth in the candlelit darkness and Will suddenly felt whole. "Will."
It was in this manner that the night passed, a haze of loving and being uncertain if they’re loved back. Connor watched the candle throw shadows on the both of them, interrupting his depth perception and making Will seem to be sunken in the darkness. It makes him feel uncomfortable, like the light that his father constantly had on his person at all times, such that when he left the room all you could remember was darkened eyes and a terrible smile.
Connor blew the candle out and then, the nightmare gone, Will stared at him with warm brown eyes and a curious tilt to the corner of his mouth. “Candles,” he smiled brightly, the lie twisting his heart with its thorns. “You have to blow them out. It is human.”
“Right,” Will laughed, a careless sound that grounded him in an instant. “We’re supposed to be adults now.”
“Pshaw,” Connor said rudely, a decidedly uncivilised sound for someone so civilised. “No one is ever an adult until they have children to blow it out for them.”
“And you’re not going to have kids?”
Connor had a terrible vision of him becoming his father. “No,” he shrugged, filling his mouth with his penne instead. “Kids don’t excite me.”
"You can't do it," Connor taunted, his eyes bright with the delight of an unachieved dare. "It's too far."
"Fuck off," Will snapped and Connor laughed, a bright sound that attracted Manning into the break room, where Will was attempting to throw his empty taco wrapper into the bin approximately two and a half metres away. "Watch me."
Manning started to bang the table in a rhythmic beat. "I'm with Rhodes on this one."
"You both suck my dick when I make it in," Will spared a moment to give her a glare and she grinned back at him. "The amount of faith you have in me is disturbing."
"We have loads of faith in your medical ability, but less in the sporting area," Connor folded his arms across his chest and stuck his tongue out at him.
"I was in the school basketball team," Will's voice is filled with mock hurt as he exaggerated aiming at the bin.
"For your height you giant," Connor grinned and then barked, "less talking more throwing!"
"I can't help that some people are midgets," Will took a deep breath and tossed the wrapper, and let out a loud whoop when it actually soared through the air and landed perfectly in the bin.
Connor's jaw dropped open and he actually said "you're cheating!" at the same time as Manning.
"Bullshit," Will sunned himself in his triumph. "You owe me one."
Connor seemed impressed. "Fine," he laughed and his laughter was contagious, the kind that encouraged another. "I didn't see that coming."
"You never do," Will sighed deeply and shook his head slowly. "Why underestimate sheer divine talent?"
"You cheated!" Connor pointed his finger at Will but the corners of his eyes are doing the crinkly thing he did when he was happy. "I'll be right back," he abruptly said as April waves him down from outside.
"One what?" Manning asked when he was gone, looking actually impressed.
"A favour," Will smirked and did a victory dance, exulting in his achievement. "Connor's not bothered by the loss of money, so we work in favours."
"Connor?"
"Rhodes," Will corrected, suddenly feeling like he walked into a corner with this one. "I meant Rhodes."
"Of course you did," she winked and Will wondered what was up with the women around here winking at him when talking about Connor. "I don't mind, you know."
"Mind what?"
"You and Connor," she placed a lot of emphasis on Connor. "You'd make a good pair."
"Stop," Will was sure he's blushing but there was no way to tell. "Just stop."
"I'm just saying," she nudged him hard in the ribs. "You're blushing."
"Please stop talking," Will put his hand over his face. "Right now."
"You're both too dominant though," Manning frowned at him and cocked her head. "You'd fight endlessly. It's like putting two lions together and expecting them to get cuddly."
"It is not," Will frowned back at her. "I happen to know perfectly well the dynamics."
"I don't see Connor choosing to act less like a lion," Manning smiled guilelessly. "Does that leave you?"
Now Will knows for sure he's turned the colour of his hair. "Does it matter?"
"You're b-" she stopped abruptly when Connor walked back in, one eyebrow raised at Will. "Bad at everything."
Connor laughed at that, running his hands through his hair in a way that made whatever words Will was going to say die in his throat. "Let's hope the exception to that is medicine," Connor grinned at them and patted Will on the shoulder in a manner that sent tingles up his spine. "Or else we're all fucked."
Two months after the incident on the park bench. They all pass in this torturous manner, of languid smiles and easy conversations. It soon dawned on Will that Connor could wear anything and still be attractive. Today, for example, he was wearing denim jeans and a shirt that even though too large for him still managed to get all his good parts. The shirt was stained in some areas from the oil of his car- it'd broken down and refused to be resuscitated. It'd taken several pleas from Connor and a new battery to get it working.
Will idly watched him from the corner of his eyes as he dawdled in front of the living room. Connor had not warned him that he was coming over and had picked his lock and let himself in, a habit he blamed on Riyadh. Will did not believe him one bit- Connor simply liked the thrill of breaking into his house and stealing his coffee.
Will crossed his arms and stared at him. Connor usually looked so polished and clean-cut that his attractiveness would wash over you in a wave of appreciation, but you would maintain your distance like you would a work of art hanging properly in a display. However wearing dirty clothes and jeans Connor looked so attainable in this moment that it made a wash of anger rise up in Will, anger stemming from the fact that he'd never be able to look as effortlessly attractive as Connor Rhodes would.
What are you going to do about it? A voice whispered, and Will cocked his head. He comes into your house, making your coffee, assaulting you with his attractiveness, what are yougoing to do about it?
"Nice to see you," Will finally moved and joined him in the kitchen. "Though you could warn me when you're coming over."
"Nice pjs," Connor snorted and takes a long sip from his coffee. He gives him an appreciative once over. "Not everyone could pull off flamingo patterned pyjamas."
"Thanks," Will shrugged before stopping and blinking slowly, so long and drawn out it was almost comical. "Wait- did you just flirt with me?"
Connor raised an eyebrow, put down his cup and sighed deeply. "I have been for the past six months, but thanks for noticing."
Everything felt like a dream. "Serious?" Will felt the earth shifting beneath his feet. "I thought you didn't know."
"I know everything I do," Connor replied affronted. "I don't just break into everyone's house, you know."
"And I don't just let everyone break into mine," Will tilted his head and pressed Connor into the counter, such that he could feel the hard line of the marble edge against his back. Will leaned back and considered the man beneath him, with his flashing eyes and dangerous smile.
Connor's eyes held blue fire, good as a servant but bad as a master and right now it dominated, full of adrenaline and the wonderful high of doing something you can't take back. Just looking at them Will felt something snap inside him.
"Will," Connor said, and he says it like he meant to say stop and yes and please all at once. He placed his hands roughly on his shirt and tugged, testing the waters.
When Will didn't react, other than move his hands to his hips, Connor grinned his predatory smile at him and pushed his chest lightly, reversing their positions and backing Will up against the far wall. The concrete was cool against his back.
"I'd like to cash in a favour," Connor continued, dark and low and fantastic. "If you don't mind."
"I do not," Will tipped his head forward until it was dangerously close to Connor's. Something thrilled inside him, the anticipation and the need and the want tolling away in him like a church bell. "What is it?"
"Kiss me," Connor grinned at him, one leg nudging in between his. "And I'll call it even."
"You seem to be doing me a favour," Will whispered. It was odd, their position, as Connor was slightly shorter than him, yet he cut such an imposing figure. There was no doubt in that moment that Connor came from power and that power would always follow him like a shadow. He wore it too easily, like an old jacket he shrugged on when he needed it. However, there was no other way that Will could picture this going, so he tightened the grip he had on Connor's hips and pulled him close.
Will tasted like strawberries and coffee, and his hair felt like feathers. Something inside Connor expanded like a balloon and burst, letting go everything that had kept him from doing this, his fears and his insecurities and his small cruelties that made him withdrawn and reserved.
"Can I ask you for a favour?" Will asked when they separated for air.
"Yeah," he breathed, his voice several tones deeper than usual.
"Kiss me again," Will pressed his lips to the side of Connor's neck.
Connor huffed out a breathless laugh that was accompanied by his hands tightening around Will's neck. "It would be my pleasure," he said, and felt as if he was floating. "Will."