Predecessor (Connor x Reader)

27 - We've Done This Before

You nod once. "I do."

Connor studies your face a second longer, then finally pushes off the counter with a small nod.

"Alright."

A quiet moment settles between you.

Then he steps in front of you. "Still... that was unexpected. Are you okay?"

You huff a laugh. "Yeah. Yeah." You cross your arms, shake your head. "Jesus... Lately, it's just been one curveball after another. I never know what the hell's coming next."

"Your life really does seem unpredictable," he says softly, almost like he's impressed.

"You don't even know the half of it." You glance toward the living room. "This is why I didn't want you tangled in it. But... if you're gonna be in my life, I guess you don't get to pick and choose the parts."

Connor's expression softens. "It's unavoidable. But I'm happy to, anyway."

You look up at him. "Thank you."

And then he pulls you into a hug—no hesitation, no fumbling. You just fit. He wraps around you, solid and warm, and for the first time in what feels like days, your shoulders drop.

You let yourself rest there. Just for a moment.

Then you pull away and glance over your shoulder. "We should clean up."

He nods.

Together, you crouch by the entryway, wiping up the trail Cherry left. You scrub the floor while Connor wrings out the cloth, methodical. His movements are clean. Efficient. You'd almost be annoyed if it wasn't helpful.

Once the floor is clear of blood and bandages, you both drift back to the dishes from earlier. You rinse while Connor dries.

Connor breaks the silence. "So... what changed?"

You glance at him. "What do you mean?"

He nods toward the stove and the newly unpacked utensils. 'All this. You always said you didn't like cooking.'"

You shrug, drying your hands on a towel. "I didn't. I don't know. I think I just wanted to try something new."

Connor studies you, tilting his head. "Out of nowhere?"

"I mean, people try new things all the time. It's legal."

He smiles faintly. "Just unexpected. But not unwelcome."

You don't answer right away. Just smile and return to wiping the counter.

Connor sets the last plate down, glancing toward the stove again. "I wish I could taste it."

You pause.

A few days ago, he told you he didn't need food. That it didn't matter to him. But now—

Now there's something in his voice. Not longing exactly, but something adjacent. The shadow of it.

You glance at Cherry, just for a brief moment, then back at him. "I wish you could too."

Connor doesn't say anything else. Just gives a small nod.

Cherry's jacket lies crumpled on the floor by the door. You lift it carefully, inspecting the blood. The stain's deep but fixable.

"I'll soak it," you say. "I know she loves this one."

"Good idea," Connor says.

You vanish to the bathroom and return a few minutes later to find him at your desk, quietly surveying the open notebook you left behind. He's not reading—just looking.