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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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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"I was thinking about what it would take to get us a decent place to crash for a while." He responds, smiling when he looks back at his partner. "What, you think I do this for fun?"
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He chuckles, leaning closer. "Believe me, man... There was nothing to be jealous of. That was just a little sex."
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"C'mon, I've seen you pull off plenty of scams without sleeping with anyone. When you do it, it's because you want to."
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He shrugs; "I did what I knew would work. It was a sure thing."
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"I don't know what to do with you sometimes."
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He shoots back a frustrated look that softens slightly, seeing him shutting down.
Huffing, he shakes his head and pushes up off the bed; "Whatever, man."
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"Fine. I have to watch you go off and sleep with random women and you don't see anything wrong with it, but can you at least notice that it bothers me?"
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"One, she wasn't random. She was a mark. Two, I get that it bothers you and I'm telling you it shouldn't."
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His voice is low and even, almost dangerously so.
"Every time I see you go after a mark it reminds me that sex is just this thing you use to get what you want. And it makes me wonder if this-" He raises the hand that's still clutching his wrist - "means as much to you as it does to me."
He pauses. "And I know that's not fair and I know it's irrational but it still fucking matters."
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Fucking damn him for using that argument against him.
Face sits down heavily on the edge of the bed, as close as he dares to come to him. "You are my best friend." He says softly, looking down at his hands.
"I mean... how many guys can light someone on fire the first time they meet them and then end up gladly risking their life for them without even being asked?" He shakes his head again; "What we have is just so far beyond sex... I mean what the fuck man? I loved you well before we ever made love."
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He looks up, and while there's still some anger left in his eyes, there's self-recrimination there too.
"That's what happens when you fall for the crazy guy."
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"Yeah, well... you started it." He offers an almost shy smile, "I know I don't exactly follow the same standards as everyone else... but I swear, I wasn't just doing it for kicks - okay?"
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Hannibal's warning is all too clear in his mind. He'll talk and you'll forgive him. And it's true, he'd rather just curl up with him and pretend none of this is an issue, but if they don't deal with it, it'll come back to bite them in the ass eventually.
"I think you're the one who's dictated where this relationship's gone from the start."
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"I haven't dictated anything, man. Things just happen, okay? You have feelings and I roll with them as much as I can."
Because making it the other guy's fault makes so much sense.
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