Finding Normality

Summary: Follows Unconventional Family. After Conor is finally released from hospital, Thomas goes to see the man he loves, wanting to fix their relationship and make up for the damage he might have caused. Conor doesn't really believe that Thomas has anything to be sorry for, but if his boyfriend is feeling too guilty to move past it, Conor has an idea for how to help
Warning(s): Spanking; spoilers for the podcast Passenger List seasons one and two; references to torture; references to canon character death
Pairing: Conor Le/Thomas Rider

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It was a relief to finally get out of the hospital.

Conor was still a little shaky, a little unsteady on his feet. He'd had to leave the hospital in a wheelchair, pushed along by one of the nurses towards Thomas' car. He had Kaitlin walking on one side of him and Thomas on the other. Both his sister and his boyfriend seemed much calmer than they had been when Conor had first been taken to hospital, along with the rest of the survivors from Flight 702.

Of course, everyone had been on edge even once they'd been rescued and the truth had been revealed to the rest of the world.

When they reached the car, Thomas stepped forward, speaking quietly to the nurse behind Conor's chair. "I'll help him into the car." Almost hesitantly, with much less confidence than he would normally show, he looked towards Conor. "If that's all right with you."

"Of course." Conor looked towards Kaitlin. "Do you have somewhere to stay tonight?" He would have offered for her to stay with him and Thomas, but he thought it was important for them to be alone together. Even if they weren't home yet, they needed privacy together.

Kaitlin's smile was faint, but still sincere nevertheless. "I'm staying in a hotel with Jim and Rory and Emily." She cast a glance back over her shoulder.

Conor settled into the passenger seat, with Thomas' help, and followed the line of his sister's gaze.

Jim and Rory were standing a few cars over, watching Kaitlin like maybe they were worried she might take off without a word. Conor hadn't met either man before being rescued from his imprisonment, but he'd met Jim's daughter, Emily, and from everything she'd told him about Jim, he felt like he knew the older man.

And from everything he'd seen about how Kaitlin responded to both Jim and Rory, he figured he didn't need to worry about her if she was staying with the two of them.

Before the door was closed, Conor reached out and grasped his sister's hand. His grip felt shockingly weak, even to him, and he saw Kaitlin wince before she quickly forced that reaction away. "Call me tomorrow," he said, pretending that he hadn't noticed. "Maybe I'll feel less like I'm going to fall asleep on my feet by then."

"Don't force yourself." Her eyes were narrowed with concern. "You've been through a lot, Conor. If you need to sleep all day tomorrow, you should do exactly that."

"Only if you promise to do the same." He hadn't failed to notice that she was tired. He knew she hadn't rested, not properly, while he'd been gone. A couple of days of proper rest couldn't make up for months of self-neglect.

"Don't worry about me." Her smile was wry. "Jim and Rory will make sure I get plenty of rest. Just...don't disappear on me again. Okay?"

"I won't. I promise." He squeezed her hand gently before releasing it. "The amount of eyes that are on all of us, it'll be really hard for me to disappear again," he tried to joke. "Go back to your hotel, Kait. I'll speak to you tomorrow," he promised.

"Okay." She looked at Thomas. "Take care of him."

"I always will." Thomas smiled, although it didn't really meet his eyes. He closed the passenger door, then walked round to the driver's side of the car and got in.

The drive to where they were staying was silent, although it wasn't heavy, and Conor felt no need to break it. He looked out of the window, watching the scenery as it rushed past, just enjoying the feeling of freedom. Even if he still felt unsteady and a bit shaky...he was one step closer to getting home.

Thomas parked the car outside a small hotel, with a homely, comfortable look to it. The building wasn't very big, so Conor figured they must not get many guests staying. That was probably a good thing, as his face had been plastered over every news station and on the front of most newspapers since he'd been rescued. The fewer people staying in the same place, the less questions he'd need to field.

Thomas undid his seatbelt and glanced towards Conor. "Let me get the chair and then I'll come round to help you out."

"I don't need the chair."

"Conor...."

"I'm just a little shaky on my feet. No different than the few times I've had a bit too much to drink. All I needed then was your support. And that's all I need now," Conor said honestly. "If you let me lean on you, I'll be fine."

"Are you sure? I came with your sister to rescue you. I know how stubborn the Le twins can be."

"Stubborn, yes. But I'm not reckless. I don't want to end up back in the hospital, so I wouldn't tell you I can walk on my own if I didn't think I could."

"Okay." Thomas breathed in deeply and nodded. Then, he opened his own door and got out, closing the door and then walking round to Conor's side of the car.

Conor undid his seatbelt and then, when his boyfriend opened the door, he reached out and leaned heavily on Thomas for support as he climbed to his feet. And he continued leaning on Thomas as the other man closed the door and locked the car, then walked to the front door of the hotel and led Conor inside.

The exchange at the front desk was very brief, and then Thomas led Conor past the desk and through the door just behind it. On the other side of the door was a series of pine wooden doors, each with a number on it.

Thomas led Conor towards the door with the number 9 in a brass plaque on it. Standing in front of it, he took a key card out of his pocket and swiped it across the scanner. As the lock clicked, he then opened the door and led Conor inside.

The room was small and cosy, with a neatly made double bed and an adjoining door Conor could only assume led to the bathroom. There was a single dresser on the side of the bed closest to the door they'd come through, and a wooden wardrobe was against the far wall. The carpet was soft underfoot and a pale cream in colour, and there was a window set in the wall opposite the bed. The curtains were open, and sunlight streamed through onto the bed.

"This is a nice room," Conor murmured, looking around appreciatively.

"It's a quiet hotel, with only a handful of rooms," Thomas said. "I thought it was better if we stayed in a hotel where there wouldn't be many people who know who you are."

"I don't think my life is going to be very peaceful now." Conor turned so that he could look into Thomas' eyes, raising a hand to touch his boyfriend's cheek. "You might not be as well-known, though. You can continue to be a spy, even if I can't help you anymore."

Thomas looked away. "I lost my job."

"Because of me." Conor dropped his hand, a hollow pit forming in his stomach.

"No. No," Thomas repeated more forcefully. "This wasn't your fault, Conor. None of it was." With hands that shook slightly, he cupped Conor's face, palms resting against his cheeks. "It's a good thing. It means you won't be in danger again. That I won't put you in danger again."

Conor heard the hitch in his boyfriend's voice and he reached up, placing his own hands over Thomas'. "This wasn't your fault. You know that, right?"

Thomas bit his lip and looked away. "When you stopped checking in with me, when I lost contact with you, I let my superiors know what had happened. What we'd planned," he whispered, his voice sounding hollow and pained. "I thought the plane had been shot down because of me. That you were dead because of the choice I made."

"Thomas...."

"You're going to tell me that it wasn't my fault. That I did the right thing, the only thing. What if it had been an attack? You could have been compromised. You could have been killed." Thomas swallowed hard. "I tried to tell myself those same things for months, but it didn't do any good. Even if I wasn't responsible for the plane crashing, it might have been because of me that you were tortured and held for so long."

The guilt was obvious and heavy in his boyfriend's voice. Conor could feel Thomas' hands shaking where they rested on his face. His body wasn't nearly as strong as it had been before his long imprisonment, before he'd been tortured, but he thought he was strong enough to handle this.

Removing one hand from where it rested on top of Thomas', Conor stepped closer to his boyfriend, so that they were chest to chest, allowing him to reach round and deliver a firm, resounding smack to the other man's backside.

Thomas' eyes widened and he took a step back...though Conor didn't move his hand, so all Thomas ended up doing was pushing his backside more firmly into Conor's palm. "What are you doing?"

"Spanking you," Conor replied simply. "I can tell you feel guilty. You've already tried to pull away from me before, both because of your job and because I'm younger than you...although I'm still an adult and old enough to consent. Anyway, I told you before I wasn't going to let you pull away from me. And I'm not going to let you do that now."

"Conor, I...." Thomas swallowed again and didn't try to pull away. Instead, he whispered, "You still aren't fully recovered."

"Yeah. I'll need you to help me a bit here." Conor took a slightly unsteady step towards the bed and smiled when Thomas quickly moved to his side, wrapping an arm around his waist for support as Conor reached the bed and then carefully sat down. He moved back until the headboard was supporting him fully, then looked up at Thomas and pointed at his trousers. "Take them down and then lay over my lap."

"Yes, sir." A faint blush stained Thomas' cheeks as he moved his hands to his trousers. Slowly, he undid the button and then the zip, pushing the trousers down to his ankles. He then shuffled forward until his legs hit the bed, at which point he bent at the waist and leaned over Conor's lap.

Conor placed one hand on Thomas' back and used his other hand to ease his boyfriend's underwear down. He adjusted Thomas' position slightly, so that they were both as comfortable as possible, then lifted his hand and brought it down firmly.

Thomas hissed out a sharp breath and Conor had the brief thought that he hoped the room was soundproofed. He didn't think about that for long, though, instead continuing to deliver firm smacks all over Thomas' bare bottom, quickly turning the skin a dusky pink.

By the time Conor paused the spanking, Thomas was breathing heavily, fingers gripping and twisting the bedsheets. He was shifting slightly, though Conor knew it was in reaction to the swats and not an attempt to get away.

Running a hand over the lightly warmed skin of his boyfriend's backside, Conor asked, "Why do you feel responsible for what happened to me?"

"Because...because maybe it wouldn't have happened if I hadn't told my superiors about our relationship and what you were doing for me." Thomas' breathing hitched slightly.

"That doesn't make it your responsibility," Conor said. "It doesn't make it your fault. I stopped checking in with you because of the crash. By the time you reported it, the crash had already happened. The plane had gone down." And people had died. Not as many as the rest of the world had believed, but there'd still been lives lost.

"If I hadn't told them what we were trying to do, maybe they would have let you go free, instead of holding you and torturing you for months," Thomas whispered, already sounding close to tears.

Conor lifted his hand and delivered another series of smacks; a fraction harder this time. By the time he paused again and began rubbing Thomas' bottom, he could hear a quiet sob escaping his boyfriend's lips.

He didn't enjoy spanking his boyfriend like this, but the last thing he wanted was for this to affect their relationship and for Thomas to be so crippled by guilt, he began pulling away. So even though what Conor really wanted to do was hold on to the man he loved, and be held in return, he forced himself to be stern. "You can't think like that, Thomas. You can't blame yourself for what happened to me. I don't blame you. You were one of the things that kept me going; that made sure I wouldn't break under the torture. I wanted to come home. I wanted to come home to you. You gave me the strength to keep living," he whispered.

"I love you, Conor." Thomas was crying audibly now. "I love you so much. I thought I'd killed you. I thought you were never coming back...and it would have been all my fault." His voice broke.

Conor couldn't make himself continue spanking, not with his boyfriend crying so hard. He leaned down and wrapped his arms around Thomas' waist, inwardly cursing the weakness that meant he couldn't easily pull his boyfriend up into his arms. "It wasn't your fault." He whispered the words into Thomas' ear, then kissed it. "I don't blame you. I would never blame you. You saved me. You, Kaitlin, Jim...."

"I got captured. Some spy I turned out to be." Thomas sniffled.

"Marianne set a trap. I took the bait. Then Kaitlin took the bait I gave her. They knew someone was going to try and rescue me. They knew you were coming." Conor kissed his neck. "It wasn't your fault. Okay?"

"Okay." Thomas shifted, moving until he was half-kneeling on the bed, and wrapped his arms around Conor tightly. "I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too." Conor pressed a kiss to his lips, closing his eyes and just allowing himself to feel his boyfriend in his arms, pressed against him so close that there was no space between them whatsoever.

When Thomas pulled back from the kiss, there was a much more peaceful look on his face than there'd been before. He reached out and took Conor's hand, gently squeezing it, before reaching into his pocket. "Conor, I...I don't really know the right time to do this, but I figure now's as good a time as any." He took a deep breath. "You're my best friend, the love of my life, and being without you for all of these months has only made me realise how much I love you and how much I need you." He drew a ring box out of his pocket and opened it. "Will you marry me?"

"Yes. Yes of course." Conor leaned in and kissed Thomas. "I love you so much," he whispered, surprised to realise there were tears running down his own cheeks.

Thomas smiled and reached for Conor's left hand. Removing the ring from the box, he carefully slid it into place on Conor's ring finger. "It fits. I...was worried it might not," he admitted quietly.

"It's perfect." Conor admired the ring, which wasn't huge or flashy, but delicate and pretty. A diamond and a sapphire rested together on top of a gold band and it glinted where the light hit it. He looked back up into Thomas' eyes and leaned in to kiss him again. "I can't wait to tell Kaitlin."

"Tomorrow," Thomas said firmly. "You need to get some rest now. Some proper rest."

"Yes, sir." Conor knew that Thomas wouldn't hesitate to take him in hand the same way he'd just taken his boyfriend...his fiancé...in hand. There was something comforting in knowing that their relationship was back on equal footing. He gave Thomas a tired smile and held his arms up like a small child. "Help me get ready for bed?"

"Any time." Thomas went to retrieve his clothing from the small bag and returned to the bed, helping Conor to get undressed.

For the first time in months, Conor could finally relax and feel a sense of peace.

The End