lawyerbyday | Open Post

( shaking his head, he set his hand against matt's shoulder and squeezed gently. he'd never hide anything like that. not when matt knew, also understood. )

No, not as such. Part of the timeline included an observation period to make sure the dust settled, so. The extra few days is why you can't sense anything right now.

Nothing major though. Just some cuts and bruises. I try to be careful, when I can.

Uh huh.

[He picked up his spoon and found the bowl, scooping up a little and letting it cool.]

So I'll be expecting a detailed mapping of exactly where my mouth's going later.

Yeah, so, like, just all over my ass.

( i.e. "kiss my ass"

but he said it with a light tone, smiling after and taking a moment to breath in the comforting scents of the soup and grilled cheese. homemade. by matt. for him.

a faint blush tinged his cheeks. )

Thank you for making this. It smells amazing.

Edited 2023-03-09 07:00 (UTC)

And this is why no jury would convict me.

[He grinned as he took his mouthful, hearing the rush of blood and knowing that his 'date' was blushing. God, he was adorable for a guy who'd been through literal wars.]

Tell me how it tastes. I got a tomato basil. Oh, shit. I forgot drinks. You want beer, wine, water...?

Oh, it's okay. I. This is fine, unless you want something? I can get it.

( soup was a drink, for him. )

And I think we both know the jury would sooner convict me anyway. I'm nowhere near as sympathetic or well-spoken.

Bullshit.

[He moved to get up, hands going over to Bucky's shoulders, kneading at them as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek.]

I'm getting you a glass of wine. And the jury would take one look at you and be too distracted by being turned on to convict you of anything. You know you're gorgeous.

You know, when they say "a jury of your peers" that this excludes significant others, right?

( you did pass the bar, right?

the kiss was a nice gesture though, and while some of the heat had faded, it quickly returned with a sheepish smile that chased it. )

Depends on what mood you're in when you say 'peers'. Age of birth or age of assumption. You, my love, have no peers.

[He went and pulled down two glasses, then got the red from the cupboard and poured a glass for each before bringing it all over.]

And anyone your 'age' with working eyes would be too busy trying to get in your pants. Anyone my age is too busy trying to get in your pants. My neighbors have been asking about you. And your number.

Hey, now, we old farts are still out there. Just, y'know, good luck getting us all into a courtroom while in wheelchairs and inhibited by oxygen tanks.

( a beat. )

Wait, they really asked for my number?

One did. She apparently thinks you're a very concerned and attractive 'friend' of mine, and if you happen to be single and looking, she's available. I have her number in the desk drawer at the door somewhere. I thought about making a collage with remnants of everyone who wants to get in your pants.

...remnants? Plural? What else have people been leaving you to give to me?

( and he genuinely didn't expect anyone to actually ask. how awful for matthew to be stuck dealing with, especially if this was while he'd been gone, the scent of him fading from everything with each passing day. )

I. Well. I know I'm. Attractive, sure. But I'm, I dunno, clearly not. Interested? In general. Hell, even when you approached me, I was pretty much just only wanting to hang. Until we got to talking about other things.

( big, deep thoughts about life and purpose and philosophy. and then matt propositioning him. )

Edited 2023-03-09 07:28 (UTC)

Numbers. Offers. I, ah, wasn't sure how you'd feel about me saying we were dating or that you were taken. We haven't exactly had that discussion and it wasn't my right to pee around you and stake my claim, so to speak.

[He sipped at his wine, then took one of his sandwich halves and dipped it in his soup.]

I've had both Foggy and Karen detail out your, um, physical characteristics without much provoking. They like me to be informed and Foggy thinks it's highly unfair that I seem to always be able to find the hottest person of either gender to gravitate towards. He thinks my dick's got a superpower. I think he's adorable. I don't really think most people consider your interests at first. No one really does when they see someone that catches their eye. Too much of a stranger for it to be anything more than just... desire. Plus, women and men seem to really get hot and bothered for the sexy brooding look. Which you, Bucky, have in spades.

[He took a bite of his sandwich, grinning.]

I mean. I guess? I think, I dunno, it looks much more like I'm constipated, though. And that's not, uh, what I look for in a person.

( though he looked concerned and a little confused to start with, he was having difficulty not smiling at the absurdity by the end.

the soup had cooled enough to drink with ease now, though and so he took a sip, humming with gratitude. ) 's'good.

( the sandwich was next. a bite later, ) Yeah, this too. If I didn't like cooking so much I'd have to ask for this more.

Karen says you look like you're caught somewhere between wishing everyone would shut up and thinking about murdering the people that aren't shutting up. It's why she's been quiet when you've stopped by. Foggy says you look like you're pretending to think about murder so no one knows you're thinking about how good I-- well. Figure that one out yourself.

[That bit of pride at the praise had him smiling, and Matt felt good that something so simple was actually appreciated. And he liked being able to 'do for' Bucky. He sometimes felt like the other man tried too hard to be the provider when Matt wanted to put on his big boy pants sometimes too, taking care of Bucky just because he liked it.]

Maybe it can be your 'coming home from away time' meal. Make a thing out of it.

I wouldn't mind that. Yeah, that. That sounds lovely, actually. But only if you've got time. I know sometimes you have difficult cases and. Things to take care of. For the night job.

( he continued with the soup, taking a few sips before he moved back to the earlier discussion. )

I do kinda have that murder face thing going on, yeah. But, uh, definitely just thinking about normal stuff and have a murderous looking resting face. Not much thinking about anything super important, most of the time.

Should we talk about it, though? What we are. Um. How to. What to say.

Bucky... I will make time for you.

[As if that needed saying. He'd roll his eyes if he was able to know he was doing it right. Instead, he just ate more of his sandwich.]

I like your murder face. It feels like a good face.

[A smile there, as Bucky seemed to fumble for the words.]

Are you up to talking about it? I want you to be welcomed back home, not walking into some weird emotional minefield if you don't think you're up for it.

( his next spoonful hovered over the bowl rather than moving toward his lips, eventually being returned to the bowl as he sat back slightly. )

It's not fair to you if we don't. I. Know how that kinda thing can matter. And. And it's not like I don't. I mean, I know how I feel. Just. Just don't know if that. Fits? What you or anyone else expect.

I do feel welcome, anyway. I. You made this food for me, and. And I know you missed me. Bet you're trying real hard not to touch me a lot right now.

( he offered a sympathetic smile matt couldn't really see. )

'Boyfriend' always sounds juvenile at this age. But you're something to me. You're a big something. And I'm not, ah, looking for anyone else to fill the spot that's empty when you're not here. I'm only interested in you.

[There was a little dip in the pit of his stomach as he realized that he might not be enough for a man like Bucky, but that's one of the reasons to have this discussion.]

I don't need a ring, or for you to wear one. But... I won't lie and say that I haven't wanted to tell some of those curious parties that you're mine. Or taken. And yes, I'm making a very concerted effort not to touch you more than I have. You came here. You didn't go home. I'm good with that.

I appreciate it. ( he reached out to touch matt's knee gently. ) I really do. I know it's. It can probably be hard sometimes. Er. In both senses of the phrase, I guess, but. But it really does mean so much to me, how much you care about my comfort.

( withdrawing his hand, he scrubbed his face a bit before continuing, ) You're. So much I didn't expect. Something that. Surprised me, and. Overwhelmed me, and. God, you mean so much to me now, I. Can't even imagine a life without you in it in some way.

There's a greater part of me that's starting to feel comfortable with the idea. Being with a guy. Like in the proper way and not just. Well, trying to figure things out, which obviously we're already well past that stage anyway, but we didn't really talk about it either, so. So that's not something that feels strange anymore, but.

( he took a slow breath and sighed. )

God, I feel awful needing to say this, but I. We can't really. Do. The public thing. Because of what I do. It's. I'd be drawing an arrow on your doorstep for my enemies. And. And they're much more devastating and cruel than even the Kingpin.

[He felt the need to argue that bubbling up inside him, one of the reasons being a lawyer had come so naturally to him. His mouth opened and he had to clamp it shut, jaw flexing as he took a moment to take a breath.]

You're not going to believe me, but I don't care. I've had a target on me since I was nine. And frankly, I think it's a little delusional to think that anyone keeping tabs on you isn't going to figure it out, if they haven't already. And I'm okay with that. Kingpin isn't the worst out there, James. He's just... my cross to bear. My burden. I'm betting you have one or two of those.

[He sighed and reached for his wine.]

I'm not saying cutesy dinners out in public or going to the opera, but even a legitimately blind person would figure us out, Bucky. The only people who don't are the ones who don't want to.

Yeah, but I'm. I'm a public figure, too. Captain America's best friend. New and old, I guess, even if technically I'm not Sam's best friend, but who else is close enough to even compare?

You'd. Be the target of the public court of opinion. Which. I already really hate, so I barely show my face out unless it's business.

I. You don't need that either, as a lawyer. It. It doesn't help, having the wrong kind of attention in a courtroom.

( grunting gently, he scrubbed his face again. ) And that's not even getting into the crazy people that think Steve and I dated and were secret lovers for decades. Ugh.

Bucky... let me be concerned about how I appear to anyone publically. Please. I'm not ashamed to love you. Or be in love with you. Or be seen with you. And I know it's not shame for you, it's... adaptation.

[Another sip of his wine before he set his glass down.]

People are always going to think what they want. There needs to come a point where you stop caring and start living.

( taking another long breath, he sighed with some force. ) Yeah. I know. Just. I also. Never wanted to be. Someone. Something for the general public to scrutinize. I'm.

Well, it. Doesn't matter, I guess. It's. That can't be changed. So. I. Guess if you'd rather tell people, then. You should probably just do it.

( bucky shrunk back in his seat as he spoke, right hand finding the metal of his left arm to grip it anxiously. )

Bucky...

[He lifted his hands and rubbed at his face, glad he hadn't put his glasses on.]

I'm not going to bully you into this. I'm just... a lawyer. I'm arguing my case. And my wants don't supersede yours. You are who you are. And you can be alone because you're too scared to admit you can love or that you're worthy of it, or you can give a metallic middle finger to anyone giving you any kind of shit because you dared to find an iota of happiness. Whether it's a pet, a mate, or a hobby. This is the age of judgmentalism. I am vehemently glad I can't actually see tiktoks and snapchats and all that other shit that keeps people glued to their phones. Maybe it gives me a different perspective.

But I'm not taking an ad out in the paper over it. I just, weirdly and possessively, want to tell Chelsea that she doesn't stand a chance with you.

( the first breath was shallow, but the next returned with more force. ) Yeah, I. I get it. Just. Well. I'm not stupid enough to think I can hide everything for the people looking, obviously.

I'm as covert as I can be to prevent that anyway, try to keep my face out of the media so people don't recognize me at a glance, and I can just blend into a crowd whenever I need to. I already live with the expectation someone might find my apartment at any time, and I'll have to bail for elsewhere, so obviously that danger exists here too, me coming over at all.

But it's something I want to be able to control, too. Even if I know I can't really.

( he paused briefly to take the wine, drinking down a generous sip, that would do nothing to really help calm his nerves, but at least it tasted good and match nicely with the prepared meal. )

It makes me anxious. People knowing too much. It's. I'm not ashamed either, about it. With the right people, especially, like Foggy or Karen. Maybe Sam, if it comes to that. But how do we know people like Chelsea aren't gonna take it the wrong way and gossip maliciously? Find someone to tell just to hurt us cause she didn't get her way? And maybe it's not her. Maybe it's a friend she tells it to in passing that doesn't like it instead, does it on her behalf.

The way information spreads is the most difficult to control. And I don't want that in our lives. I don't want people knowing and bringing it up casually like they have a right to scrutinize a private relationship they're nowhere near. I. I love you so much, but we already have so much going on in our lives. We don't need any of that complicating things more.

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