notjustaface | Totally Not A Date. Date.

Things have been good, work has been good. On the whole, it's business as usual. Maybe a few more nights in, passing up a pretty girl he could have had without thinking from time to time, but after a few solid months he's back to his old self.

Back to his game. Back to good friends and one night stands with the occasional brush with death just to keep things fresh. Back to boxes tucked away neatly with minimal shaking in the back of his mind because he doesn't have to think about it.

Base housing is comfortable living for the moment, a small house split two ways with a room across the hall from his best friend that doesn't put too much of dent in his stipend. And, it's bro-night. Dinner that may or may not kill him, a movie complete with Murdock's hand-puppet commentary and a few beers. Maybe other things, if it's a good night.

He's fresh from the shower in nothing but a pair of loose shorts when he follows the familiar tang of scorched meat in the air from the tiny back patio. "You cookin', Murdock?"

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Part of him wants to be able to be that guy, for it to be easy to just let it be whatever the hell it is... but it's not easy. It's unsettling and something he's not really able to deal with at all.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, closing his eyes. "I... I wish I could."

"I know."

He leans back to look him in the eye again.

"You can't change who you are either."

There's nothing to say to that but a hollow sigh, it's the truth. He can't change, and every time he's tried it only made things worse when he was wrong.

"I like this," he asserts somewhat unsteadily. "Can we just maybe not do the relationship thing?"

And that throws him a little... because they've basically been doing that all along. They just haven't been calling it what it is.

"If that's what you want..."

Call him clueless, but he doesn't see that part yet. He can't let himself see that part.

He nods again, forcing his eyes open; "I don't want things to change."

He takes a deep breath.

"Okay."

It's killing him a little bit, but he'll deal with it.

He always does.

He knows how to read people well enough, and reading Murdock's about as hard as a coloring book when he actually wants to hear what he's not saying. That single hitch of breath tells him a hell of a lot more than his answer.

"I... am a colossal asshole for saying that."

He wants to say he's not, but they both know each other too well.

"... Maybe not a colossal one."

(Give him a break, he's trying to lighten the mood.)

It's enough, he may as well just out and say 'everything's gonna be okay Temp'.

"Hey.." he says with a much lighter lilt to his voice; "I'm trying, right?"

He wishes he could, but there's no way he'd believe it right now. Keeping things jokey tends to work better.

"Yeah, you are."

The sock puppet makes a reappearance at that point, going in for another cheek kiss.

Almost uncharacteristically, he turns his cheek and plants a kiss on the felt lips before tilting Murdock's head back to kiss him even more gently.

"I think he's got you beat, Lester."

He makes a comically downtrodden gesture with the puppet. "Sorry, man. Can't win 'em all," he tells it.

Returning the sock to his pocket, he leans in and returns the kiss, trying to keep things light and low-key.

He can't ever say that he doesn't have a comfort zone - sex is safe and he's in control. And it's easy to let his little head think when the brain isn't working out so well.

"I think..." His hand brushes up the edge of Murdock's cooking-stained t-shirt finding the warm skin beneath, "Maybe Lester should go to bed because a date with me only ends one way... and I don't know if I'm ready for a puppet threesome."

"And here I thought you were adventurous," he jokes, setting the puppet aside.

He squirms a little at the hand on his stomach. That touch does things to him.

"Maybe next time..." he kisses him again, pushing up off the sofa while the other arm tugs at Murdock's hand, lacing their fingers together.

"Felt chafes."

"... I don't even wanna know how you know that."

Witty banter: fully engaged.

"Pool tables are tricky little bastards..." He grins against Murdock's lips, pulling him back toward his bedroom - to his bed where he can fix everything.

Where things are in his court.

The grin is met by a laugh. "Ouch."

His arms wrap around Face's waist as he gets pulled along. "C'mere and lemme make it better."

"Ouch" is putting it lightly... try a week in a vaseline coated jock.

"I like that idea," he murmurs, nuzzling against his lips as his steps grow faster down the hallway until he's pressed against the door and only pulling Murdock closer.

"I like you."

He sighs as he's pulled into his arms.

"I..." He hesitates.

Damn it. His body wants to take it at the literal, but even he's not too dense to buy what's coming next.

"Murdock..." he whispers, his hands shifting to the center of his best friend's back. "I..."

He shakes his head.

"I said it once. We both know it."

When he leans in again, his body wants so badly to hold him close and just let it happen. The problem is, his body's an asshole.

"Yeah..." he sighs, brushing a kiss against his cheek. "And I am gonna kick my own ass so hard for saying this..."

"What?"

There's confusion in his voice, and maybe a little sadness... why does everything have to be so difficult with them?

"You're not some random chick I met in a bar." He sighs, slamming the back of his head against the hollow door.

"You don't deserve this." His voice drops with a low, frustrated groan. "And some day you're going to love someone who won't hurt you."

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