Re: Atticus/Matt
Atticus had his past. Knew Matt had his own past. Everyone did. Was beyond the age where he expected to meet anyone significant in his life that was without a story. Liked that better, people with stories. Might explain why he had little interest in young things. Billy, who had practically thrown himself into Atticus' lap, had held no allure. Knew everyone had a past, loved letters from older times, but preferred conversation in the now. Preferred to get to know who a person was now. The past could be a trap, as much as he loved it.
No things with PJ. Atticus made a sound. Wasn't acknowledgement precisely, the sound. Just thought it meant PJ hadn't made her move yet. Had discussed that with PJ repeatedly, PJ's need to approach this man behind the wheel. Wasn't that Atticus feared his own actions, the betrayal of going too far with a man PJ cared for, but wanted PJ to have her chance. Wasn't particularly selfless, either. Atticus wasn't a selfless man. Lazy, yes. Sedentary, yes. Unmotivated, yes. Not selfless. Wasn't a good man, not truly. A good man would've saved his parents from jail as a child. A good man would've reached out as an adult. A good man would've taken himself out of the equation the first time his haunts killed someone. Wasn't a good man. Didn't want to hurt PJ, and he knew only PJ could beat him to that punch.
"She doesn't drive." The haunt. Was a joke. It came with a grin. He glanced at Matt, at Matt's arm, then turned his attention back to the road. "Like slow dances. You?" Atticus did. Hadn't ever danced with someone, but he liked the thought of it. Slow. Pressed close. Didn't sound like a bad time to a man that had spent a lifetime without being touched by anyone who wasn't a medical professional. Anyone living who wasn't a medical professional. "Not sure things can be seen clearly. Both lenses, future and present, have different kinds of blurriness. Objects in the rearview mirror may appear closer than they are." Another grin. "Meatloaf." He reached for the iPhone, and he found the song. Played it.
"Can accept that answer." About people sometimes getting lucky and finding someone who could tell when they needed a hand. Hadn't ever found that, personally, but could imagine that. Could imagine this man had that with Steve, once upon a time. Wasn't hard to imagine, not on this stretch of road and in this car.
The tuck of hair behind Matt's ear was impulse. Lazy impulse, easy since it only required the stretch of one hand. Cigarette discarded. Hands free. "It's long." The hair. Not that Atticus was anyone to talk. "Softer than it looks." Wasn't worried about doing it. Didn't think Matt was interested, but it wasn't a particularly aggressive move. Just a tuck of hair. Long drive, windows open, practical touch.
When Atticus withdrew his hand, he used it to rub at his own nape. Thick fingers against olive skin, and he looked out at the horizon. The turn-off was a blur of green sign in the distance. "That one." He looked over. "Good at what?" He lolled his head against the headrest, cheek against it and hazel eyes fixed soberly on the man at his side. "Touching you?" Plain spoken, with a bit of rumble to it. Wind whipped curls against Atticus' forehead. Didn't bother tucking them away.