notjustaface | 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."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Okay, he's a con-artist, and yeah... manipulation is sort of his bread and butter but it's not like that.

Not with Murdock.

"Christ..." he sighs, unlocking his hand and then curling it into another fist until he can feel the ache across his scarred knuckles.

"If you think I'd ever do that to you without a very, very good reason. One that's a hell of a lot better than a real estate agent with a failing marriage and a special key that means we don't have to commit breaking and entering..."

He takes his hand instinctively, running his thumb over the scars. He's always loved Face's hands.

"I know you don't mean to."

He never does - he's always known that Face would never intentionally hurt him in any way - but that doesn't make it any easier to deal with.

"... You said 'made love.'"

The touch grounds him again, brings him back to the reality of what they're actually talking about. They're both scared, they're both treading on new ground and it isn't like a mission where they can build on everything that's come before.

He lets out another sigh, not as frustrated as before, and shrugs. "What if I did?"

"You said it on the ship too."

He wonders, on some level, if it's Face's way of distinguishing what they do together from what he does with the girls he scams.

On another level he thinks that may be giving him too much credit.

Tensing unexpectedly, he pulls his hand away to cross his arms over his chest. It hadn't exactly been something he planned on saying, but his mouth doesn't always have time to commune with his brain when Murdock's around. Especially when he's in that warm fuzzy state of mind where all he wants to do is wrap him up in tender emotions that make him feel far more naked than being fucked.

After a long moment and several deep, slow breaths, he says; "Because when it's us it's not like some waitress or a guy in a bar." He looks away, anywhere but where he knows he should be looking. "Because when it's with you it matters."

He tugs at his hand again, trying to break through the shell of confused emotions.

"You couldn't say it at all before..."

Before their lives got shot to hell.

"Things change, Murdock." He replies somewhat bitterly. "Maybe knowing that I lost something I could have had years ago finally made it sink in."

He really doesn't know why it's easier now, just that the times when he doesn't have to try to make it happen are fewer and further between.... It just happens sometimes.

"Look, I'm not good at this whole.... Relationship thing. And it still freaks me out, just less than it did before."

"Maybe that's what scares me," he says quietly. "The whole 'absence makes the heart geow fonder' thing."

He shakes his head. "Hell, none of this makes any sense to me either."

"Not fonder." He corrects, letting Murdock's hand cling to his because it does feel good - even when he knows he's still not off the hook. Not fonder at all, just a little more willing to deal with it.

"It is what it is, right? And if it really hurts you... yeah, I'll try to be better about it, okay?"

"Wish I could say it didn't, but yeah... it does."

He squeezes his hand gently before pulling away.

"Might take the couch tonight. I need to think."

He turns his hand, gripping Murdock's fingers tight.

"No... don't... don't do that." He sighs, shaking his head. "Look, I know you're pissed at me but don't be like that."

"Don't be like what?"

It hurts a little, hearing the need and the fear in his voice, but he needs to know that his actions have consequences.

"It's just for tonight."

He's clinging, guilty and just a little desperate to be forgiven.

"Just... don't hate me, okay? I did my job and I guess I didn't really think about it. I'm thinking now."

"Did I say I hated you?"

He pulls him closer for a brief kiss on the head before letting go.

"One of these days we're gonna talk about why you're so scared of people leavin' you, but I said I wouldn't and I meant it. I just need some space right now."

It'd be entirely too easy just to stay right there - right in that stupid moment.

But, he lets go and pushes himself to kiss the corner of his lover's mouth.

"I'm not scared." He murmurs, swallowing the lump in his throat before pushing up to trade off his comb for his skin care routine.

"Hit the shower, man. Think about it."

"We're gonna be okay."

And if this were any kind of normal relationship, he wouldn't be the one sleeping on the couch.

"We'll talk more in the morning."

Resisting the urge to run his hand through his freshly-combed hair, he pats his shoulder as he gets up

Normal is relative - for them? Maybe this is normal.

"Right. Talk." He half-laughs, watching himself in the mirror as Murdock passes by him - the lingering touch on his shoulder only a reminder of his misstep.

He's content to dig into Murdock's backpack and swipe a certain soft hippo to burrow under a blanket on the sofa with.

Boundaries

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject