[Never mind the hesitance Frank has noticed every now and again -- they've already had the talk about Oliver's low self-confidence and Frank has tried to prove to him time and time again that he's just as hot as the rest of them -- how can Oliver just stop everything and grin at Frank like that?
While someone in this relationship actually does need to have some self-control, Frank huffs a little in frustration and licks his lips before settling back and putting the car in drive. Jesus, help him.]
Man, you're something else, aren't you? You're really in trouble after that.
[All he really wants to do is chew on Oliver's lips while he slips a hand between his legs to squeeze and stroke and pump. The quicker they're back to his place, the sooner he can do that. Besides, Oliver had the right idea to stop them when he did. Frank would feel like crap if the guy was fired for indecent exposure.]
You figure out what want for dinner: take out or something homecooked?
[Oliver isn't even sure Frank knows why he hesitates exactly. It has nothing to do with how he thinks he looks or what he deserves and more with the type of guy he's finding himself falling for again. But he doesn't even speak of it, allows Frank to think that oh, sure, it's just a typical nerd lacking confidence about himself. Easier that way, he used to think but isn't so sure of it now.
Absently he rubs his lips then fastens his seat-belt.]
Home-cooked.
[Because Frank's proven before how he isn't just good in the bedroom, there are other places in his home he excels at too.
So they drive, mostly in silence with the occasional small-talk about work here and there. Nothing too intimate or personal, Oliver always notices that too but half of it is because he makes sure it doesn't get too personal even if that ship has long gone and sailed away.
He shrugs out of his jacket once they are inside of Frank's home, the top buttons of his shirt undone then he drops files onto his salon table with information he's requested.]
[As much as he may doubt it, it is better that way. Imagine Frank realizing what Oliver's really hesitant about. Part of him has probably had its own suspicions, has definitely already worried that someone like him had no business being with Oliver. He may handle the truth better than 'hair gel' might but it's better left unsaid, at least for now.]
Perfect.
[Is all Frank says in regards to the files. He doesn't bother checking them even after hanging his own jacket. Oliver always has superb results for him so Frank trusts his work.]
And thanks, again. So uh... What do you have a taste for? More of those tacos...pizza...pasta? Whatever it is, you're helping.
[The last part is said over his shoulder before he goes back to rummage through the fridge and taking stock of what they have to work with. He smirks when the can of whipped cream briefly catches his attention - that'll go great with his dessert, later on.]
[It's a choice easily made for Oliver as he glances over at Frank now in his kitchen searching for ingredients. He actually doesn't mind helping, his cooking skills not all too bad thanks to his mother that frequently made him help out whenever she prepared dinner. Over time he's actually started to enjoy it, finding it numbs his mind after a long day of staring at codes; or dealing with stressful boyfriends of the past.]
Something creamy if you got the ingredients for it.
[He's rolling up his sleeves, wishing he had other clothes to wear besides his usual work attire. But it's going to have to do, not like he will be wearing it for long anyway.
Knowing his way around Frank's apartment and kitchen he finds what he's looking for. Pouring himself a glass of wine but Frank something much stronger he gently nudges his glass towards him and takes a sip of his own, watching him, still.]
So. Managed to keep any murderers from going to jail today?
[Frank drawls unnecessarily lewdly with the usual Delfino smirk gracing his face as he confirmed he had just what they needed to make dinner. He's already gathering up all the ingredients, even shoulder bumping Oliver, or standing close behind him to reach into the cabinet above him.
He swats at the younger man's bottom before going to wash his hands to prepare. That is until the question stops him and he's turning around with a questioning raised brow while drying his hands.]
What's that supposed to mean?
[Please let him just be messing around, Frank can't deal with anyone judging him or Annalise right now. Hell, or ever. Better he down that glass Oliver's made him just in case. It hits him strong in all the right ways, warm as he goes down - bourbon, good stuff.]
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sorry for the late
While someone in this relationship actually does need to have some self-control, Frank huffs a little in frustration and licks his lips before settling back and putting the car in drive. Jesus, help him.]
Man, you're something else, aren't you? You're really in trouble after that.
[All he really wants to do is chew on Oliver's lips while he slips a hand between his legs to squeeze and stroke and pump. The quicker they're back to his place, the sooner he can do that. Besides, Oliver had the right idea to stop them when he did. Frank would feel like crap if the guy was fired for indecent exposure.]
You figure out what want for dinner: take out or something homecooked?
np!!
Absently he rubs his lips then fastens his seat-belt.]
Home-cooked.
[Because Frank's proven before how he isn't just good in the bedroom, there are other places in his home he excels at too.
So they drive, mostly in silence with the occasional small-talk about work here and there. Nothing too intimate or personal, Oliver always notices that too but half of it is because he makes sure it doesn't get too personal even if that ship has long gone and sailed away.
He shrugs out of his jacket once they are inside of Frank's home, the top buttons of his shirt undone then he drops files onto his salon table with information he's requested.]
It's all there.
no subject
Perfect.
[Is all Frank says in regards to the files. He doesn't bother checking them even after hanging his own jacket. Oliver always has superb results for him so Frank trusts his work.]
And thanks, again. So uh... What do you have a taste for? More of those tacos...pizza...pasta? Whatever it is, you're helping.
[The last part is said over his shoulder before he goes back to rummage through the fridge and taking stock of what they have to work with. He smirks when the can of whipped cream briefly catches his attention - that'll go great with his dessert, later on.]
no subject
[It's a choice easily made for Oliver as he glances over at Frank now in his kitchen searching for ingredients. He actually doesn't mind helping, his cooking skills not all too bad thanks to his mother that frequently made him help out whenever she prepared dinner. Over time he's actually started to enjoy it, finding it numbs his mind after a long day of staring at codes; or dealing with stressful boyfriends of the past.]
Something creamy if you got the ingredients for it.
[He's rolling up his sleeves, wishing he had other clothes to wear besides his usual work attire. But it's going to have to do, not like he will be wearing it for long anyway.
Knowing his way around Frank's apartment and kitchen he finds what he's looking for. Pouring himself a glass of wine but Frank something much stronger he gently nudges his glass towards him and takes a sip of his own, watching him, still.]
So. Managed to keep any murderers from going to jail today?
no subject
[Frank drawls unnecessarily lewdly with the usual Delfino smirk gracing his face as he confirmed he had just what they needed to make dinner. He's already gathering up all the ingredients, even shoulder bumping Oliver, or standing close behind him to reach into the cabinet above him.
He swats at the younger man's bottom before going to wash his hands to prepare. That is until the question stops him and he's turning around with a questioning raised brow while drying his hands.]
What's that supposed to mean?
[Please let him just be messing around, Frank can't deal with anyone judging him or Annalise right now. Hell, or ever. Better he down that glass Oliver's made him just in case. It hits him strong in all the right ways, warm as he goes down - bourbon, good stuff.]