H.M. Murdock (
notthatcrazy) wrote2013-04-05 10:37 pm
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Best-Laid Plans
It was supposed to be an easy job. At least that's what Hannibal had said, with his usual bravado. All they had to do was tail the guy who'd been stealing corporate intel from their client and report back when they found his base of operations - at least that was the plan, until they'd been spotted and he'd gotten the drop on them before Face could take him out.
So now he's got a possible concussion and a probable - ow, no, make that a definite broken arm and a very worried partner to deal with.
So now he's got a possible concussion and a probable - ow, no, make that a definite broken arm and a very worried partner to deal with.
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"I'm sure you would make a great chicken-daddy. And a much nicer rooster."
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"Well, you know how it is... you get chased by a cock once, you never forget it."
Hey, looks like he can still make jokes after all.
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"That... that is terrible." He chuckles, kissing his cheek. "I love you."
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"You know it."
He reaches for his hand again, holding it tight.
"Love you too, baby."
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Which of course means he has to up the ante to get out of seriously cute territory.
"Speaking of cock..." he grins, probably a little too wickedly.
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"That is terrible."
He pokes him in the side with the hand that's still linked with his own.
"You're terrible."
... He means it with love, really.
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"Seriously, I can't believe you never noticed this..." Shamelessly, he pushes down the waistband of his shorts to show a perfectly round, white scar roughly an inch from his package. "That's a scar you never forget."
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"You gonna tell me how you got that one, or is that another thing I don't wanna know about?"
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"Drunk ex plus high heels plus finding out that I sort of may have slept with a waitress while we were dating."
He flashes an almost sheepish smile, it wasn't one of his prouder moments.
"The guys at the ER took pictures before stitching it up as a cautionary tale to future idiots."
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He wouldn't have him any other way, really.
"Any other injuries you wanna tell me about?"
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"Wanna try some concussion karaoke?"
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He's not sure if it's shock setting in (he can't have lost that much blood, can he?) or simply his body trying to deal with the pain, but things are starting to go kinda numb.
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"How's your arm? Still hanging in there?"
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The hesitation alone is an indicator that he's in a bad way.
"Y'owe me a song, Faceman."
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"Fine... fine... you pick the song and I'll start."
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He's a bit too loopy to go through the mental jukebox right now.
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It's debatable, actually. They both do a pretty good falsetto.
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"For you. But only because I love you..."
He starts with a gentle hum, working up to the intro, fighting the urge to giggle.
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"You're so good to me."
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Still, it's fun. Even if he is singing Cher.
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They do make a good duo.
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"I've got you, babe." He murmurs even after the song's finished, kissing him again.
"Mean it too. Mine. Laying claim."
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He laces their fingers together, holding on tight.
"... How long've we been here?"
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He doesn't want to beg, he knows begging won't help, but he's running out of ideas.
It's four songs and a long, terrifying moment where he's not so sure that Murdock's brain isn't too scrambled, but eventually the cavalry arrives and BA pushes the van as fast as it'll go to first backwoods emergency center they can find.
Face takes it on himself to get him in - twenty minutes then they've got to go mop up their mess.
"Okay, come on baby - we're at the emergency, can you walk in?"
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