notjustaface | Totally Not A Date. Date.

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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Face turns warm eyes toward him again, licking a stray drip of ice cream off his lip.

"I can imagine that."

The easiness is comfortable, no pressure or need to perform. The perfect way to start capping off a decent day.

The well-worn (and thankfully clean) sock puppet stays in his pocket while he eats, but pretty soon he's putting it on and miming along with the lines

He's mostly used to it... As much as one can ever be used to hand puppets that each have distinct personalities - one of which clearly sweet on him in a way he steadfastly refused to analyze. At least it wasn't Percy.

"I'm stuffed..." He sighed, eyeing the last melty curried bite. "Finish this so I don't feel bad." He scoops up the bite, turning sideways enough to press the spoon to Murdock's lips.

Totally normal bro-night behavior.

"As you wish," he quips - coincidentally just as Cary Elwes says it on screen.

Totally bros.

It's a simple, stupid thing that makes his stomach flutter in a way he doesn't know how to control.

He doesn't doubt Murdock means it for far more than a bit of dessert and that worries him enough to pull his attention away from the movie.

Still, he flashes a warm smile and laughs under his breath as he sets aside the bowl and spoon. "Good timing."

"We do our best."

Is Personal Space Invasion Time Nao.

If it were a date, the proper reaction to Murdock's shift closer against him would be an arm around his shoulders and shifting his knee until his hand was on Face's thigh. But, it wasn't a date, and said hand bore a sock with button eyes and a felt mouth he didn't particularly feel comfortable having near his crotch.

"Your best is usually pretty good," he murmurs, cocking his elbow on the back of the couch. "Dinner was really good, man."

He'll have you know that Lester Sockworth the Fourth is a perfect gentleman.

"Thanks," he says simply.

He's still wary and curiously aroused at the thought of a surprise sock-job.

But, the moment passes and the butterflies in his belly are written off as indigestion just as easily as Murdock's closeness is written off for typical disregard for personal space like when he sits in BA's lap.

Slowly, completely on it's own accord, his arm finds it's way down across Murdock's broad shoulders and opens him up to moving even closer.

He snuggles in closer, sneaking his un-puppeted hand under the hem of Face's borrowed t-shirt.

"Should ask for this back," he teases.

"Is that a subtle request to return to my Shirtless Saturday celebration?" He teases right back, all too aware of the brush of fingers on his abs.

"Let's just say I wouldn't kick you off the couch."

He's pretty sure it'd take something pretty horrible for that to happen.

Never one to avoid the potential of some benefits of the sexual variety, he shifts forward and peels the shirt off before settled back where he was - maybe holding him a little closer than before.

"Oh! I ran into Sam and Lonnie at the BX yesterday," he's not sure why the couple crosses his mind, but it seems like as good a time as any. "They want to know if we want a standing date for bowling Sunday nights."

"Hmm. Might be fun."

He almost laughs at how domestic they're being as he wraps himself around his friend.

"Shh, it's just getting to the good part."

Because this is totally what best friends do, right?

His fingers curl at the nape of Murdock's neck, catching curls that are no way regulation length and subconsciously stroking them.

Well, if it's his favorite part it's at least worth a little attention.

It's what they do. At some point they'll figure things out.

He sighs happily, resting his head on Face's chest as they watch Inigo duel with the man in black. It's still just as cool as it was when he was a kid.

Without even realizing it, he lets his chin rest against the top of Murdock's head. It's not until his hand slides down behind him to loop around his waist that he realizes just what he's doing.

It's not a date... we're not dating.

Which is exactly the moment Murdock looks him in the eyes...

...and the sock puppet "kisses" his cheek.

The eyes catch him and for a second everything makes perfect sense. They're not crazy eyes right now, they're soft and tender and looking at him with that same depth their hero had looking at his lady.

Fuck.

And then the tension in him breaks with the press of fingers in sock against his cheek.

"Aww, Lester... I never knew you cared."

"He's a little shy."

This feels like a significant moment. With sock puppetry.

Double meaning caught, digested and kind of freaking him out a little.

At least it's easy to let down a sock puppet.

"It's okay to be shy, Lester... Some things just can't be said."

Shouldn't be said. Would be even more painfully awkward if said.

"Some things don't need to be."

He sighs, turning his attention back to the movie.

And if that's not the truth, he doesn't know what is. It makes his pulse rise and palms feel a little clammy and he has to fight himself not to flee.

Murdock doesn't deserve that, it's not his fault Face isn't the guy he needs or deserves.

After a long moment, he presses a kiss to the top of his head and says softly; "You're right."

He whispers something that sounds a lot like "Love you anyway."

Awkward conversation is awkward.

He knows he should just let it be, but what good would it do to just leave things as they were.

"What was that?" He asks calmly, without inflection one way or another.

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