There will never be a time when Matt doesn't welcome Steve's embrace, in any capacity. They're both deeply tactile people, albeit for different reasons, but it means they've also always been able to rely on each other to fulfill that need. It feels especially important now, however, with Steve so recently returned home and the two of them rediscovering an equilibrium that had been missing in their lives during the separation.
Logically, Matt knows that he can't hold his friend to that promise. Someday one of them will find a reason to want more distance between the two of them. At least, Steve will. Once he's adjusted to civilian life again. Matt would be perfectly happy to simply continue on as they are. There's no one else he'd rather come home to at the end of a grueling day in court, or wake up to on a sun-warmed morning.
Mentally putting the feelings into words is like finally finding the right combination to a stubborn lock, all the tumblers falling into place and the door to understanding opening. His breath catches, but before he can open his mouth to speak (not that he knows what he's going to say), Steve is voicing his thanks once again and ending their dance with a twirl and dip.
Instead of speaking, Matt just laughs, the kind of brightly joyous laugh that comes from feeling a little high on happiness. Putting his arms around Steve's neck, he touches their foreheads together, still smiling widely. "You've been the most important person in my life since I was nine years old. That's never going to change. And I don't want it to."
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Logically, Matt knows that he can't hold his friend to that promise. Someday one of them will find a reason to want more distance between the two of them. At least, Steve will. Once he's adjusted to civilian life again. Matt would be perfectly happy to simply continue on as they are. There's no one else he'd rather come home to at the end of a grueling day in court, or wake up to on a sun-warmed morning.
Mentally putting the feelings into words is like finally finding the right combination to a stubborn lock, all the tumblers falling into place and the door to understanding opening. His breath catches, but before he can open his mouth to speak (not that he knows what he's going to say), Steve is voicing his thanks once again and ending their dance with a twirl and dip.
Instead of speaking, Matt just laughs, the kind of brightly joyous laugh that comes from feeling a little high on happiness. Putting his arms around Steve's neck, he touches their foreheads together, still smiling widely. "You've been the most important person in my life since I was nine years old. That's never going to change. And I don't want it to."