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It happens after a small job they pull together, the theft of mediocre art. They decided to do it because they were bored, because Matt wanted to see what his boy could do, because they could. It’s so easy it could be child’s play but Neal is hyped on the success. His eyes are sparkling and if it wasn’t so cliched and sappy, Matt would have told him his eyes were like perfect sapphires, a matching set that had no equal. He wasn’t that guy, though, so he just lit a cigarette and squinted through the smoke. They were becoming good friends, somehow. Putting his desire for Neal aside (which was hard; every goddamn breath Neal took was a work of art, an act of God), he liked Neal. The kid was smart, but there was more to it than that. He had an energy that made Matt feel like they could do anything, steal anything. Be kings of the world. He’d finally met someone who could keep up with him.
“Proud of yourself, huh,” he said, gruff. Neal smiled at him from where he was standing by the window, watching the light foot traffic below. He had his own room, but spent almost all his time in Matt’s.
“Aren’t you?” Neal replied, reaching out and taking the cigarette from him.
“A kid coulda done that job,” Matt scoffed. Neal took a drag, grinning.
“Uh huh.” Neal said, handing the cigarette back. “So why’d you plan it?”
“‘Cause I was bored, sittin here playin chess with you everyday,” Matt retorted. Smoke hung between them, a haze that didn’t quite hide them from each other. Matt raised the cigarette to his mouth but before he could inhale, Neal took it from him, the movement lithe and graceful.
“Always gotta be in control, huh,” he said, in a perfect imitation of the other. Matt shrugged, chuckling.
“Yeah, sweetheart, I gotta. I ain’t ‘s pretty as you, so I gotta be the brains.” He took the cigarette back, took a long drag, and crushed it out just to make a point to Neal. Neal laughed now, reaching for the pack of smokes.
“Is that why you won’t fuck me?” he asked, tone casual. Matt moved the pack of smokes out of Neal’s reach and shook his head.
“I told you-”
“I know. I’m gonna beg,” Neal said, imitating him again. “Control freak.” Matt sighed, jaw tightening.This time when Neal reached out, it was to pull Matt closer. A fistful of shirt, an insistence, and Matt let himself be pulled.
“Control means we don’t get caught,” Matt murmured.
“It also means you don’t have to admit anything.” Neal was so close Matt could feel the warmth of his breath on his lips. He closed his eyes.
“What do I have to admit? You know I want you, you little shit.” He said. “I’ve been sayin it since day one.” Neal’s hand was still fisted in his shirt, and he dropped it now, hands skimming down Matt’s sides. Matt forced himself to keep breathing evenly, eyes closed.
“But you never do anything about it,” Neal insisted. Matt opened his eyes, frowning
“Whaddaya call the other night, then?” He demanded. “That’s ‘not doin anything about it’?”
“You never go as far as you want to go,” Neal said, grinning. “Never as far as I want you to. Why is that? What’re you scared of, Matty?”
Anger flashed through Matt, hot and brutal. He pushed Neal’s hands off him, grabbed him by the front of the shirt, both hands fisted tight. And still that maddening grin, that knowing look in those blue eyes.
“I ain’t scared of shit.” Matt growled. “Y’hear me?”
“You’re afraid to fuck me,” Neal said. “‘Cause it can’t be you’re waiting for me to tell you I want you. Because I’ve said it and said it and said it, and you don’t wanna hear it. I want you, Matthew, I can’t get any clearer than that. Maybe I want you to fuck me, Matt, but I trust you to be smart enough to get that part’s implied.”
He could shake that smug tone right out of him. Just shake his boy until he shuts up. He’d forgotten the thing about having friends- real friends, not just other cons- was that they could see you. Letting someone like Neal get close to you meant being seen and yeah, okay, it scared the shit out of him. It had been years since he’d been seen; most people believed whatever Matt decided they should. Most people took him at face value, whatever it was that day. But most people hadn’t lived with him for weeks now, talking and planning and teasing each other. Most people didn’t get under his skin like Neal did.
He took a deep breath, looking right up into those beautiful blue eyes.
“If I do, you’ll leave me,” Matt said, surprising himself. Neal had managed to make him so mad that he was telling the truth. What a con. “Y’don’t need me. And I… you’re out of my league, sweetheart.” and Neal was still smiling, leaning in to Matt. Close enough to kiss. Close enough to escape into.
“You know that for sure? That I’ll leave you?” Neal asked. Matt’s breath caught in his throat.
“Why woudja stay?”
“Because I love you, you asshole.” Neal answered. All of the breath went out of Matt’s lungs, all at once. All he could do was stare at Neal, touch his tongue to his lip.
“You better be lyin,” he said finally. “Swear to God, Neal, you-”
“I’m not. I love you. Pretty much since that first night you told me I was gonna want you. You got to me.” Neal said. “Now are you going to kiss me or do I have to start another argument?”
Matt leaned in to kiss his boy, this beautiful boy who was in love with him. They were framed in the window, the sun starting to set. Neal would be golden in this light, tousled hair just dark enough to make him shine brighter. He would look like a young god, Adonis or Apollo. Picture perfect, like the last frame of a classic romance movie. Would he ever be over Neal’s beauty, Neal’s utter physical perfection? Because it felt like he never would. Kissing, touching, even fucking, would never be enough. Matt wanted Neal, all of him, right down to his bones. Not just his beauty, though that was a gift; he wanted Neal, the kid who liked to pull dumb pranks and always had to learn everything he saw. The kid (kid, kid, like Matty wasn’t only a couple years older than him; kid because there was a joyful playfulness to him that most people Matt knew didn’t have) who had walked into a poker game with a bluff and a smile. The kid who liked to lay sprawled on the bed, mostly undressed, watching whatever Matt was doing.
And he had to pull away, breathless. Put Neal an arm’s length away from him for a moment while he tried to get his bearings. “Oh. Oh, fuck, sweetheart.”
“What?” Neal whispered, not allowing Matt to keep him away.
“I’m in love with you. Shit,” Matt said, starting to laugh shakily. It was the truth, simple and bare. A way to hurt him, if Neal ever wanted to. A way for anyone else to hurt him, by getting to Neal. Love was a fallacy, he’d decided, and he was never going to fall for it. Yet here he was, falling. Fallen.
“So? What more do you want?” Neal asked, tugging Matt’s sleeve. “Come to bed.”
He let himself be led. It didn’t matter now, who had the upper hand, who was winning or losing. Love did that to you, made you not care about anything but love. He’d told Neal may the best man win, and he had. Neal had.