Templeton "Faceman" Peck (
notjustaface) wrote2013-03-24 12:33 pm
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Boundaries
They were fugitives. Somehow just saving the fucking day wasn't enough - and sure, breaking out of prison was against the law but in Face's mind that didn't make it right to end up headed back into custody when they should be celebrating.
So they ran until the Colonel told them it was time to stop for a few days and get their bearings. Face was left with the distinction of scamming a place to stay - which led him to a small house by an oil refinery that had been on the market over a year with no takers.
A quick trip to the realtor's office to get the lockbox key led to a gorgeous new agent named Lynn or Linda or maybe Lori... But she was cute and unhappily married and fell right into Face's trap.
Dinner led to drinks and by the second martini he was feeling like his old self again. The Faceman... Smooth player that gets what he wants. The man that has no problem flirting, kissing her and when she starts leaning closer against him and touching his chest he's the man that leans in and murmurs against her ear; "We should go back to your place."
And two hours later, smelling of sex and cheap perfume mingled with cigarettes and gin, he lets himself out of her condo with the key and couple 'borrowed' fifties to pick up some burgers for the guys to make up for being late to their seven o'clock rendezvous.
"Dinner delivery," he grinned, knocking on the equally 'borrowed' van's sliding door.
"Took you long enough", Hannibal frowns as he takes his styrofoam box. "You're the only con who needs four hours to book a hotel room."
Face clicks his tongue, sliding in beside Murdock with a subconscious distance between them. "Hannibal, I'm hurt. Cons get you a two-star single occupancy..." He holds up the key with a self-satisfied smirk; "Artists get you a house."
So they ran until the Colonel told them it was time to stop for a few days and get their bearings. Face was left with the distinction of scamming a place to stay - which led him to a small house by an oil refinery that had been on the market over a year with no takers.
A quick trip to the realtor's office to get the lockbox key led to a gorgeous new agent named Lynn or Linda or maybe Lori... But she was cute and unhappily married and fell right into Face's trap.
Dinner led to drinks and by the second martini he was feeling like his old self again. The Faceman... Smooth player that gets what he wants. The man that has no problem flirting, kissing her and when she starts leaning closer against him and touching his chest he's the man that leans in and murmurs against her ear; "We should go back to your place."
And two hours later, smelling of sex and cheap perfume mingled with cigarettes and gin, he lets himself out of her condo with the key and couple 'borrowed' fifties to pick up some burgers for the guys to make up for being late to their seven o'clock rendezvous.
"Dinner delivery," he grinned, knocking on the equally 'borrowed' van's sliding door.
"Took you long enough", Hannibal frowns as he takes his styrofoam box. "You're the only con who needs four hours to book a hotel room."
Face clicks his tongue, sliding in beside Murdock with a subconscious distance between them. "Hannibal, I'm hurt. Cons get you a two-star single occupancy..." He holds up the key with a self-satisfied smirk; "Artists get you a house."
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"Yeah, sure thing." He replies with a hesitant half-smirk.
He sits back up and devours several fries before leaning forward to suggest; "After I'm done, me and Murdock will go see about getting the power turned back on."
The colonel seems to consider it a moment before he vetoes it; "I'll take care of that, I want you and BA to take care of the water."
Of course, what the boss says goes when it's the reasonable choice.
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He sounds a bit like a petulant teenager. Get it together, Captain.
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"I've got my phone on if you need me," Face murmurs toward Murdock. "This shouldn't take long."
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He nods as they pull up to the house. It looks okay from the outside, he'll give Face that much.
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And by 'talk' he means 'most likely yell.'
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"Have you ever worked with horses?" There's a point to the statement, honest.
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"No, can't say I have."
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He shifts as close as he possibly can from the front seat before continuing.
"Then there's stallions like Templeton Peck. Gorgeous, wild creatures that'd rather break their own backs than be saddled."
A hint of a smile crosess his lips and he adds; "The only way to keep them in line is with a firm hand on the reigns and sometimes castration."
He's known Peck a lot longer than the others and knows full and well how hard he is to control, like a petulant child.
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"I appreciate the concern, boss, though personally I'm hoping not to have to go that far."
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Pausing a moment, considering his words carefully, he finally says; "Judging from what was said back on the freighter, you boys are taking this very seriously."
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"Yeah," he says cautiously. "We are."
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"I'll tell you a secret about working with people like him." He licks his lips, withdrawing a cheap cigar, "Expect them to make mistakes, a lot of them, but be prepared to address every single one of them because that's what he understands - results."
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There's something utterly strange about getting relationship advice from a superior who knows at least a dozen ways to kill people.
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"Yeah, I know. He had that scent of booze and desperation on him."
Apparently it's not as hard to be mad at him as he'd thought it was. There is one thing, though...
"You know he thinks he's just doing his job."
Seduction is a tool for Face, and they both know it.
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Ending the conversation, he gets out of the van to finish the practical job for the night so they can have a hot shower and a place to sleep.
By the time Face makes good on being able to talk alone, he's headed from the master bathroom shower toward a fresh pair of boxers laid out on the bed.
"Your turn, babe." He flashes a smile at his lover on the bed before leaning over him to press a kiss on his lips.
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"We need to talk."
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"Sure," he replies easily enough, combing out his hair after settling onto the edge of the bed. "What's on your mind?"
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No preamble, no nonsense, just getting it out there.
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"The real estate agent," he replies matter-of-factly. No sense dancing around the subject like he'd done something wrong. "Lynn... Lori... Lana - something like that."
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His tone of voice indicates that he's pretty sure it wasn't.
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"It's a classic move, I do it all the time."
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He crosses his arms.
"That's the problem."
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He's not stupid, he knows technically it was probably over the line, but in the interest of clenching their goal he'd taken the easy route.
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