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{fic} Classic | A-Team | Murdock/Face

Classic

By Clarity Scifiroots

Disclaimers apply.

Fandom: The A-Team Pairing: Face/Murdock

Rating: General, very innocent. ^_^V

Summary: Murdock’s picnic plans get hijacked... in a very good way.

Eighth day of June!fic – for rainbow_goddess a romantic seduction request

& for drabbles100 claim, “sunset (38)” (#2 of 100)

Edited March 20, 2009

 

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“Murdock, what on earth is all that?” Face asked, skeptically eyeing the bulging box that his friend had just managed to squeeze into the backseat of the ‘Vette.

 

“Nothin’. We goin’ or not?”

 

Rolling his eyes and deciding that the matter could be dropped for now, Face nodded and pulled away from the curb. “Yeah, yeah. How’s Hannibal holding up?”

 

“The Colonel’s fine, he jus’ likes to have someone to boss around when he’s hurt.”

 

“He’s like that all the time,” Face reminded. He pulled onto the highway and grinned. “Wait ‘til you see this place! Floor to ceiling windows, large veranda, a private beach...” He looked over at Murdock and flashed a charming grin. “And free to use for three months while the owners are off on a cruise.”

 

“Sweet,” Murdock agreed, settling back into his seat. “When’re we gonna get there?”

 

“Aw, come on. Anticipation’s half the fun!”

 

After a few moments, he answered, “Ten minutes.”

 

Murdock smiled, satisfied. “Good!”

 

~ * ~ * ~

 

Face spent forever showing off the place, but Murdock followed along with little show of impatience. After the grand tour, Face muttered about dinner and a shower. Expression lighting up, Murdock shooed him off towards the shower, claiming that he had dinner covered. Hoping Murdock truly had taken care of things, Face headed upstairs for the master bath.

 

When he came back down about a half hour later—hair still a little damp but freshly combed, dressed in a simpler outfit of khaki slacks and a button-down short-sleeved shirt, barefoot—he smelled the hints of something that had been cooked, but couldn’t quite place it. Face walked into the kitchen, ready to find out what was for dinner, but Murdock was nowhere in sight. Frowning, he entered the living room. He loved those floor to ceiling windows with such an incredible view of the ocean... Wait a minute.

 

Face strode over to the wall of windows and squinted against the sun’s fading light.

 

“Well I’ll be damned...” he muttered.

 

After slipping on a pair of sandals, Face left the house through the French doors leading onto the veranda. He moved to the outer railing and took a moment to lean against it and watch Murdock’s silhouette as the man knelt on a blanket and rearranged the assortment of dishes, silverware, even a couple of candles and—was that? Yes, yes it was—a bottle of wine. Smiling to himself and shaking his head, Face decided it was time to find out what all this was about.

 

“Hey, this is pretty fancy, Murdock.”

 

Startled from his intent concentration, Murdock leaned back and stared at Face for a moment in confusion. “Oh, um... Sorta planned it, Facey.”

 

Settling himself down, Face nodded. “I kind of guessed that. But what for?” He picked up the wine glasses and quirked an eyebrow.

 

Murdock fumbled for the bottle opener and grabbed the wine.

 

“Just a thought,” he said carefully. His eyes seemed to look everywhere but at Face as he poured the wine.

 

Curious, Face handed over one of the glasses and turned most of his attention to the sunset. “It’s beautiful out here, isn’t it? I think this is one of my favorites.” He grinned into his glass and took a sidelong glance at his friend.

 

Murdock carefully fingered his own glass of wine. A few minutes later, he finally looked up and met Face’s gaze. “Do you really have no idea... why I’d do this?”

 

Face considered the question seriously, recognizing Murdock’s sincerity. It wasn’t time for flippant comments or comedic banter usually so common in their dialogues. Reasonably sure he knew what Murdock was looking for, Face smiled a little to himself and swirled the wine around in his glass.

 

“I suppose I might,” he returned quietly.

 

Hesitantly Murdock’s fingers brushed against Face’s forearm. Brown eyes sought out blue ones, seeking reassurance or confirmation.

 

“Then it won’t come as a surprise to you,” Murdock said, leaning in, “that I’m about to kiss you...?”

 

Face let his eyes close partway. “No...”

 

The kiss was amazingly gentle, although firm, and certainly had a touch of strength that made it distinct from the majority of kisses Face had participated in over the years. He found it surprising how comfortable it was to kiss his best friend—and how arousing. When Murdock attempted to pull back, Face followed, one hand curving around the back of the pilot’s head and keeping him close.

 

“Facey...”

 

“Mmm... Shut up.”

 

“Facey...!”

 

With a groan, Face let go and flopped onto his back. “What?” he complained. He realized that somewhere along the line he’d dropped his wine glass. Regrettable, it had been rather good.

 

Murdock scooted closer. Leaning forward on his hands, he stared down at Face in consternation. “What?”

 

“Don’t start copying me...” Face threatened.

 

“Wasn’t. Why’re you makin’ faces at me?” he asked with a smirk.

 

Sighing, Face said, “Why’d we stop?”

 

Murdock’s smirk turned into a full grin. “We’d’ve squished all the food I worked on makin’. An’ I know you’ll like my dinner.”

 

Face reached up and grasped the lapels of the pilot’s ever-present jacket. “So maybe I like how you taste better.” He tugged firmly. “Now get down here.”

 

“Only ‘cuz you’re insistin’, Faceman.”

 

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