That's cute. This Matt, stammering and flustered and half dressed in rumpled clothes, smiling and looking at him without really seeing him is so different from the lawyer Tim watched stomp the prosecution yesterday.

He likes both. The lawyer with all the confidence and the man who can't find the words. He almost wishes there was some part of Matt that was detestable. That the man he got a Not Guilty verdict for had actually done it, or that he didn't look fucking adorable every time he smiled. Anything to make it easier to not get attached.

But Tim's found nothing of the sort. Nothing even remotely bad. It makes him want more of this. Nights of the best sex he's ever had and mornings of coffee and eggs and bacon.

He'll have to settle for just once, though. He can't be selfish.

"Probably because they haven't felt your biceps." Nobody with arm muscles like those is made of glass.

Tim drops his hand, lets Matt get back to his cooking as he moves to snag the Columbia Law mug off the table and pour himself a cup of coffee.