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Murdock sat curled up on the couch, long, lanky legs pulled up close to him, toes wiggling inside his Kermit slippers as he hugged his mug of hot cocoa against his chest. The lights of the tree in the corner twinkled brightly in the darkened living room, a small mound of presents stacked nicely under it while six stockings -- five older looking and worn, one brand new (complete with tag from Walgreen’s still attached to the back) -- hung off a string draped in front of the frost covered picture window. He loved coming to Chicago to spend Christmas with the Baracus’, Mrs. B always treated him – and everyone really — so much like they were her own children, despite the obvious skin tone difference. That didn’t matter though; she loved taking care of them and made sure she invited them to their meager apartment every holiday just so the boys had somewhere warm and homey to be.
The smells of their delicious Christmas Eve dinner still hung in the air and filled him with just as much warmth as that chocolaty drink cooling in his hands. Oh, what a feast it had been, too! A turkey large enough to feed a small army (which, in Hannibal’s eyes, that’s exactly what their little group was), pecan pie, French silk cream pie, pumpkin pie (all of which Murdock expertly tasted before hand, just to make sure they were suitable to serve…they didn’t disappoint!), cornbread muffins and crescent rolls, a small ham, and two whole dishes each of green bean casserole and sweet potato casserole. There was a bread pudding for BA and his father (though, it had to be put in the refrigerator for Mr. Baracus to eat once he returned from work), rice pudding and banana nut bread. For not having much in life, Mrs. Baracus definitely made sure that Christmas was at least a special time for her little boy and his poor friends.
If Murdock took the time to actually stop and think about it, he’d see just how pathetic of a group they really were. BA was really about the only one to still have a family and home to go back to during breaks.
John Hannibal Smith (don’t ever call him John, and God save the person who calls him “Johnny”) had a family back in St. Paul, Minnesota, that much was true. A mom, a stepdad and two younger brothers he hadn’t seen in years. He’d been tossed into a boarding school since his eleventh birthday, and in not so many words, told to rot there for all his folks cared. His parents had wanted nothing to do with him after that last winter he’d lived at home. Only ten years old, Hannibal was oh so very protective of his (then three) little brothers; especially his youngest, Peter. Little Peter was six years younger than Hannibal, and had been the absolute light of Hannibal’s life.
He’d taken Peter, Joshua and Mark out to the skating pond behind their house to try and teach the four year old to skate. Being incredibly bright for his age, Peter took to the ice like a fish to water, and before long the boys were having so much of a good time that they never realized their youngest brother had skated onto thin ice. It was Hannibal who finally noticed, catching sight of Peter just as that little body disappeared through the ice. From what Murdock had figured from the one and only time he’d heard his older friend tell the story, Hannibal dove into the water, skates, coat, hat and all in an attempt to pull Peter back out of the water and onto thicker ice. He couldn’t, though. When he finally reemerged empty handed, shivering and half frozen, it was too late. Murdock was never told the end of the story, except to hear that Hannibal’s parents blamed him for Peter’s death and refused to let him live it down.
A sad, quiet voice in the back of Murdock’s head told him that the family probably had to wait for spring thaw to come around before they were able to get the boy back, and that most likely had a lot to do with why they all but tossed their oldest son out on his own.
Murdock himself had grown up as normally as he could. Well, mostly. His father had died shortly before he was born, and his mother had done the best she could to take care of her precious and precocious little boy. He could remember curling up in her lap, his little head resting against her chest to listen to her heart beat and that soft rumble of humming as she stroked down his ever unruly mop of fine brown hair and rocked them back and forth. If he closed his eyes and thought really hard about it, he could still see her smile and soft eyes (that were always sparkling and laughing) as she’d take him to the airfield to watch the planes take off and land. She was the first one to tell him that he could be anything in the world he wanted to be, and even made him his own WWI fighter pilot costume for Halloween when he was five; complete with goggles and little faux leather and fur bomber jacket.
One thing he couldn’t remember though, no matter how hard he tried – and honestly, it was probably for the best — was her death. He just remembered going to bed one night and her tucking him in, next thing he truly remembered was sitting on the front porch of his grandparent’s house (having been moved from Huntsville, AL to Beaumont, TX), crying himself to sleep because he wanted his mommy. Murdock’s grandparents were decent enough folks, and they did their best with him; they even encouraged his love of planes, flying and especially animals. They raised him to be polite and thoughtful, to have an imagination that wouldn’t quit, and to take care of those who were less fortunate than he. When they passed away when Murdock was just thirteen (Myrtle first of a heart attack, Hogarth second a few months later of a broken heart), it was stated in their will that he was to be sent to Hawthorne-Arbor College Prep -- the school Murdock’s father had attended growing up -- until his eighteenth birthday, or he graduated, whichever happened first.
Then, last but certainly not least in their small army of friends, was Templeton Peck. Or, as he’d been dubbed by Murdock upon his arrival at Hawthorne-Arbor, Face. That poor kid from Los Angeles. He was definitely worse off than the rest of them. At least Hannibal had the comfort of knowing someday he might still be able to reconnect with his family, Murdock knew he was orphaned but it wasn’t by choice, BA still had his parents, but Face? Poor Facey had been left to wander the streets of LA when he was only five-years-old; his mother just abandoned him and didn’t even bother to attach a note to his jacket or anything. At least, that’s the way Face told it. He didn’t have any family to call his own; no one ever picked him on visit days at the orphanage, and now that he was living on campus, no one ever would.
There was a hidden anger and bitterness in that freshly turned sixteen-year-old, anger that had peeked out during dinner when he’d snapped at Hannibal over something as silly as not wanting to say thank you when he was handed a second slice of pie by Mrs. B. Admittedly it was a bit rude, but the woman had just waved it off and seemed to be unfazed by it all. In all honesty, Face hadn’t even wanted to come along with them in the first place. He’d spent hours arguing that he’d rather stay back in the dorms and study, or catch up on his sleep and television shows, instead. It was his roommate, and best friend Murdock, that finally convince him to tag along, informing him if he didn’t go with them, then he’d be forced to spend Christmas alone with Rodney Decker, their arch nemesis.
So off they went, their little rag-tag army all piled onto a train free of charge thanks to Mr. Baracus – it sometimes paid to have a dad who was an Amtrack engineer — and carried away to the Windy City. They’d spent the day after arriving wandering the city, taking in the sights and spending what little cash they had to buy souvenirs and trinkets to give Mr and Mrs. Baracus for Christmas/thank you gifts. And while he’d spent most of the day heckling BA and making Hannibal laugh, Murdock had done well to keep an eye on Face. He tried to hang back and talk to him, get him to play along and joke with him like he’d do back on campus, but it failed every time.
After dinner, while Hannibal and BA watched football in BA’s room, and Murdock was engrossed in watching “A Charlie Brown Christmas” for the third time that night, Face had quietly helped Mrs. Baracus clean up the dining room table, scraping the dishes before stacking them neatly in the sink. When Murdock had glanced back again to see if maybe Face wanted to watch the ultimate in Christmas cartoon movies, he noticed the blue knit cap and gloves were missing, and so was the body that filled them. Mrs. B wouldn’t tell him where Face had slipped off to, or why; she just smiled and fixed him another mug of hot chocolate – made with milk, not water and two packets of cocoa mix — and sent him back to the living room to watch “White Christmas”, instead.
Which was exactly what he was doing when the door finally reopened and a figured slipped back into the dark apartment, granted, he was on his third cup of cocoa and his second time of tearing up when Phil and Bob started singing “We’ll Follow the Old Man (As Long As He Stays Away from the Battle’s Spray)”. Tilting his head back, he watched as those gloves, scarf and hat were hung up carefully next to the door, followed by a rather tattered jacket. Biting his lip, he waited for a moment before speaking.
“Facey? You want some cocoa?”
Face paused at that quiet, accent laced voice coming from the dimly lit living room. Head poking into the room, he spotted the Santa hat clad teen on the couch looking pathetic, adorable and way too childish for his own good. Giving a slight sniffle, Face shook his head as he started moving towards the guest room he was sharing with Murdock.
“No thanks…I’m goin’ to bed.”
Frowning and scrambling to untangle his legs from himself, Murdock moved to sit up straighter and watch after him. His brown eyes sparkled in the reflection of the red, orange and blue tree lights, and there was an almost desperate plea for companionship etched on his face. Murdock didn’t handle being alone all that well, sometimes.
“Wait…c-could you…maybe…uhm…I can’t sleep, see and…well…I…I’d really rather not s-sit up alone, ya know? Sometimes my imagination’s okay to run free, comes up with some p-pretty neat stuff sometimes but uhm…but other times it…well…it’s not so good, so…d-do ya think you could m-maybe just…c’mere and watch ‘White Christmas’ with me? Just for a little while. Please?”
Murdock watched as Face stopped dead in his tracks; his shoulders slumped and his head dropping just a bit as he no doubt picked up the tone in Murdock’s voice. Being roommates at Hawthorne-Arbor, Face had learned to notice the different little tones Murdock used and had, surprisingly, become quite fluent in Murdockese. Even more than Hannibal was. The tone wavering in Murdock’s voice currently was one that was only brought forward when Murdock truly was having issues and wanted someone to be with him so he wasn’t alone to face his demons.
Turning slowly, Face’s crystal blue eyes lifted until they locked with Murdock’s dark chocolate brown eyes. Heaving a heavy sigh, Face nodded slightly before moving back for the living room couch. “Alright…I’ll watch a little bit with you. But then I’m headin’ to bed, okay? I’m tired.”
Head nodding enthusiastically, Murdock moved, and wiggled, and squirmed until there was enough room on the couch for them both, and reached out to hit play on the remote again just as Face settled himself in next to him. They sat in silence for a long moment or two, both pairs of eyes glued to the screen as the two main characters schemed on how to make Christmas special for their old Commanding Officer.
Shifting and wiggling again, Murdock leaned his bony shoulder in against Face’s, snuggling himself in while pulling the knitted wool blanket off the back of the couch to drape over both of them. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the sudden flash of panic wash over his friend’s face and felt his own heart sag low in his chest.
“It…it’s chilly in here…ain’t it? Or is it just me? Sometimes my internal thermometer goes all wonky on me and I never know if it’s cold or hot or what it is so --”
“M-Mur --”
“-- if…if you ain’t cold or chilly or nothin’ then by all means, you don’t hafta stay under the blanket --”
“Murdo --”
“--I just thought ya might be since you was out for awhile tonight and it’s been awfully cold lately and I…I don’t want you getting’ sick --”
“Murdock it --”
“-- cuz ya know, ya snore, really loud, when you get sick and it makes it hard for me to sleep when ya do that so—“
“Murdock!” snapped Face, instantly bringing Murdock’s stammering to an end. Sighing, he shook his head and offered a faint smile as he pulled the blanket a little closer. “It’s okay, Murdock. It’s okay, really. I was actually kind of chilly, so…thank you. You just surprised me, that’s all.”
A relieved smile and sigh passed over Murdock as he relaxed into the couch and against Face’s side once again. “Good. Cuz I was getting’ chilly and you’re sure doin’ a good job of keepin’ me warm.”
Giving a small smile, Face sighed softly as he moved his hand to pat Murdock’s head gently, then fall so it rested on Murdock’s opposite shoulder, as if giving him silent permission to snuggle in closer to leech body heat from Face. They were both rather pathetic when it came to the cold, both having come from warm weather climates, but one thing that set them apart from each other was the fact that Murdock thought the snow was pretty and fun to play in; Face wanted to take a torch and melt it all.
Silence fell over them again as they continued to watch the movie, Murdock occasionally spouting dialog along with it or humming softly to a song or two. It was strange how comfortable they both were together, especially sitting cuddled up on the couch in such a way. Of course, it wasn’t the first time they’d cuddled up together, in fact, there’d been a number of times Face had woken up in the night to find Murdock had slipped off his top bunk and crawled into bed with Face instead, all snuggled up to him like a child with their favorite teddy bear.
Always the restless one, Murdock wiggled himself around after a few minutes so that his long, gangly legs hung off the arm of the couch, while his upper body slid until his head was resting precariously on Face’s lap and he was able to look up and see his best friend’s face clearly. The startled, momentary look of surprise on his face was near priceless and it brought a goofy, lopsided grin to Murdock’s.
“Facey? Where’d’ja go when ya disappeared for a while? Ya just kinda vanished, like the invisible man. You got super powers you’re hidin’ from me?” He questioned, blinking and smiling up at Face in a near upside down position.
Blinking down into those innocent brown eyes, Face could feel his defenses start to fall, as they always did whenever Murdock played cute and innocent with him. Sighing, he shook his head before looking back at the TV. “Nowhere…just went for a walk.”
Murdock blinked owlishly. “Around a strange and dangerous city all by yourself?”
“Hey, this place is like a small town compared to LA,” Face answered with a shrug. “Nothin’ to it.”
Murdock had to nod, Face did have a point. Deciding to drop the subject for now, he turned his head to face the television again. Rolling up onto his side, left arm draping over Face’s knees, he tucked the blanket under his head so Face’s lap could still be covered and he could use it as a partial pillow.
“Thought you said you were chilly,” chuckled Face.
“Was. Now’m not. Told’ja my internal Therm-O-Meter was all outta whack.”
“Heh, right…my mistake.”
The room danced in shades of white and blue from the old television screen, illuminating both teens in a ghostly glow. They watched the scene before them, both lost in their own heads as the story played out. Face had never actually seen the movie before; hadn’t seen a lot of Christmas movies come to think of it, and Murdock would probably cry if he ever found out. Well, he’d cry and then strap Face to a chair and make him sit through each and every sappy, tear-jerking, heart-wrenching holiday movie the childish teen felt was worthy of being called a Christmas Classic.
“Hey, Murdock?” Face’s quiet voice broke the comfortable silence that had fallen between them. “Did you have good Christmases growing up with your grandparents?”
Blinking at the screen and bringing himself out of his own thoughts, Murdock rolled onto his back again to look up at his friend. There was a distant look in those blue eyes that brought a pang of sadness to Murdock’s heart.
“We had pretty decent Christmases.” He answered with a small shrug. “Wasn’t nothin’ real fancy. We’d go to Christmas Eve mass, I’d usually wind up an altar boy or singin’ in the choir most times. Then we’d come home, I’d go to bed and first thing in the mornin’, before anything else, we’d go back for Christmas morning mass. Once that was finished, we’d come home, gramps and I would go out to take care of the animals, come back inside for breakfast, I’d get to open the few presents left under the tree and in my stocking for me…and that was pretty much it. We’d have a ham for dinner, maybe some sweet potatoes and green beans with cranberries and almonds, but that was really about it.” Turning his head, his brown eyes stared up to his friend’s. There was something deeper in that simple little question that was asked, something wondering if perhaps there was something wrong with Face that he never had a decent Christmas in his life. Worrying at his lower lip, Murdock sniffled softly and moved to tug part of the blanket up around his shoulders, when would his body finally make up its crazy mind?!
“What about you, Face? You have any good Christmases?” It was almost a dumb question to ask, but one he knew needed to be. A hand absently reached out, pulling the Santa hat from his head and slowly began to stroke through his disheveled brown hair, desperate for a trim at least.
“No…not really.” Face’s voice was quiet and obviously thick with pain. There was enough dejection in those three little words that made Murdock’s chest tighten in sorrow. Oh how he wished he could go back in time and make sure his best friend had at least one good Christmas under his belt, the guy deserved that much at least. Face was really too good of a person to not have had a decent holiday ever in his life.
Deciding maybe it was time to change the subject a bit and relate to his friend on a more personal level, Murdock heaved a heavy breath before wiggling his shoulders into Face’s thighs in hopes of warming them up more.
“Ya know what I always wanted?” Murdock started as his eyes cast to the ceiling to watch the lights mingle and dance there.
“I always wanted to have one of those big fancy houses, ya know?” He asked, not even giving Face time to respond. “One of those that’s on the lines of a mansion but not quite so many rooms? Just a nice big house, with one of them big, curving polished wooden staircases that come Christmas time could be wrapped up in pretty evergreen garlands and red ribbons and bows.” His tone turned distant and thoughtful as he tried to imagine such a place. It had to exist somewhere out there, just, well, none of them had ever seen a house like that. Not the inside of one, any way.
Taking a breath, Murdock grinned as a new thought popped into his mental image. “And a tree, a big ol’ tree!! A tree so big ya have to stand on the top stair just in order to put the angel on it. Have it decorated with all sorts of blue, green and purple lights, those blue and silver ribbons and streamers, and icicle ornaments. Tons and tons of icicle ornaments.”
The sentence trailed off, his excitement quieting down until he was snuggling back into Face’s thigh and shrugging awkwardly. “I always wanted a nice house like that to decorate and make all nice and fancy for Christmas, and then have people to share it with, ya know?” His idea of the perfect Christmas changed from year to year, but the want for someone to share it with stayed the same every time.
Face’s quiet, thoughtful tone drew him from his imagination. “You had your grandparents at least, though.”
“Yeah…” admitted Murdock with a slow, lazy Texas drawl to his voice, “but they were already so old by the time they got me, they couldn’t keep up and play and get all excited about things with me like someone more my own age could. I hated bein’ an only child. When I grow up, I want a whole shoeful of kids. Well…maybe not that many but, at least two, ya know? Give ‘em someone to play with at least. Make havin’ that fancy place with all the fixin’s worthwhile. Christmas just don’t feel quite right without someone to share it with and help make it feel special, does it?”
Face scoffed lightly as he shook his head, fingers still dragging through Murdock’s hair without even realizing it. Murdock knew that the image he’d projected out there was everything and then some of what Face had always wanted. A nice house, beautiful decorations; all the finer things in life. That’s what Face was constantly carrying on about, any way. And he deserved to have all the best stuff, he really did! If it were up to Murdock, Face would have it all.
“You don’t strike me as the type who’d be comfortable in a house like that,” mused Face with another shake of his head. Murdock glanced up with a raised brown, curious as to what his best friend was talking about. It didn’t take long to find out.
With a small smile and a distant look in his crystalline blue eyes, Face began to explain. “I see you more as the type who’d like something simple, maybe even with a somewhat rustic flare to it. A simple two story farm house, or even one of those modern designed log cabin type places, with a fireplace and stockings hanging on the mantle,” he sighed wistfully, the corner of his mouth twitching up a bit more the more he thought this through. “A good sized tree in the corner of the living room, not huge, but large enough, and presents stacked up everywhere. A plate of cookies sitting out on the table with a glass of milk and a note wishing Santa a Merry Christmas…that definitely sounds more your style, bud.”
Murdock swallowed hard as he stared up at Face. He wondered if Face could tell just how fast his heart had started pounding at the image his words conjured up. That definitely did sound more his style, in fact, that sounded very much his style. It reminded him of what Christmas was like at his grandparent’s house, except, there was rarely ever presents stacked up everywhere for him. Still, the fireplace and tree in the corner? A two story farm house? Oh yes, it certainly brought back memories and made his eyes well up. It would probably be years before he ever got to have another Christmas like that, if it ever happened at all.
Forcing himself to relax, he shrugged as he settled down into the couch a bit more, legs moving off the arm of the furniture to curl up under him to keep his toes warm instead, Kermit slippers and all.
“Yeah…guess you’re right,” he murmured, “that does sound more my style, don’t it?”
Face hummed in quiet acknowledgement.
Gulping again, Murdock forced a quiet laugh and turned his attention back to the TV. Anything to keep his mind off the conversation and how nice it felt having Face run his fingers through his hair like he was. “Well…it’s nice to dream right? Sides, not like it’d matter; probably never get either one of those. My luck I’ll end up livin’ in some crummy apartment by myself, with about a dozen or so cats and one invisible dog, talkin’ to myself and makin’ everyone around me scared to talk to me.”
“Heh…sounds like a pretty alright life to me. Mind if I join ya? Least then neither of us is alone on Christmas, huh?”
Oh if only Face would. That would make Murdock so very happy. Blushing softly, and thankful for the darkness and blue hue painted everywhere around them, Murdock feigned a Southern belle accent as one hand moved to clutch at an invisible pearl necklace.
“Why I do declare, Mr. Peck! I would be mighty honored and pleased to have you share my cat infested abode with little ol’ me! And at Christmas we can go out collectin’ poor abandoned kittens to bring home with us, give ‘em a right good saucer of milk, warm little beds to lay in, knit ‘em each a pair of little booties and sweaters and after Christmas mornin’ Meow Mix send ‘em back on their merry little ways!”
A flash of panic crossed Face’s eyes at that thought, enough to make Murdock smile even more and laugh out right before rolling back onto his side and giving the other teen’s legs a gentle, reassuring hug. “Aw relax Facey-kins. I don’t know how to knit and don’t plan on learnin’ either. So we’ll just stick to collectin’ and feedin’ and sendin’ ‘em off on their little ways. How’s that sound?”
“Uh…y-yeah…yeah I think I can live with that.”
“Good. Good…”
On the screen, Bob and Phil discussed how much ‘Wow’ was in terms of production costs. The banter between the pair always reminded Murdock of himself with Face, and that scene alone was enough to bring a small smile to his face. He gave Hollywood credit, they used to knock out a few good movies back in the day, the kind of movies with heart and meaning and actually spoke to people on a more personal level.
That was before Hollywood became money hungry mongers though and didn’t care what kind of slop they threw out for the masses to waste their money on and enjoy; so long as it broke even on production and turned a profit, they didn’t care. The idea of having such a simple Christmas with his best friend though, the boy whose lap his head was still resting on, and whose fingers were carding so easily through his ridiculously baby fine hair, that was an idea that made Murdock smile. The simpleness of Christmases past that were showcased in all those great old holiday films, that’s what he longed for. Something simple that had more meaning and spirit behind it than what he’d come to know as ‘holiday cheer’ lately.
Huffing softly, Face shifted a bit and slunk just a little lower on the couch, jostling Murdock in the process and making his head slide back so it was cradled in the dip where legs met body. If either of them were paying more attention, they might almost be horrified at realizing where he’d just shifted Murdock’s head to. They weren’t though; both of them were too deeply lost in thought.
“I think I like the idea of that, Murdock,” Face finally murmured, breaking the silence between them. “But, couldn’t we maybe still do that in that pretty two story farm house, instead? I mean, it would give the cats more room to run and play, wouldn’t it? And then we wouldn’t have to worry about the neighbors being scared of us, right?”
Being snapped from his thoughts was all it took for Murdock to realize where his head had slipped down to,and it was enough to make his mouth go suddenly very dry. Heart racing a mile a minute, it took Murdock a few moments to realize Face had even started speaking again. Once he was able to process what exactly it was Face had said, Murdock was thrown for an even bigger loop!
They were still talking about literal cats, right? They weren’t suddenly using cats as a euphemism for ‘kids’ were they? Not that he would out rightly object! Not in a hundred, million years would he object to that! Just, they were still teens, he himself having just turned seventeen on Thanksgiving and Face having turned sixteen on December 7th, and on top of that, Murdock hadn’t even expressed his feelings for the guy!
Though, if Face was asking to live with him and wanting to have that pretty little farm house with plenty of room for the ‘cats’ to run and play and not have the neighbors scared of them, not scared of us…then maybe he didn’t have to express his feelings?
Or he could be reading way too into it all and the other teen could be meaning exactly what he says and cats are cats, not kids.
“Uh…right, right yeah…yeah f-farm house sounds…sounds real good to me, Face…real good.” Swallowing hard and licking his lips, Murdock’s head nodded slightly, his eyes glued to the television screen yet again, forcing himself to think of things not related to the boy with whom he would give his last penny just to spend his days with.
Face nodded slightly as he moved to rest his head back against the couch cushions behind him. If he stayed sitting there like that for much longer, he was liable to fall asleep like that. Murdock wouldn’t be complaining all that terribly much if it weren’t for the fact he knew Face would wake up with a crick in his neck that would require a hot shower followed by Murdock’s oh-so-talented fingers to finally work it out again. It had happened enough times back at the dorms that Murdock knew exactly how it would play out. Back at the dorms, safe and alone in their room, it wouldn’t be a problem to give him a good neck and shoulder rub; but in a strange house with people Face didn’t know around, Murdock wasn’t quite sure how anyone would take to something like that. He wasn’t about to risk it.
“HM? You ever write letters to Santa or go to Midnight mass and pray for something so hard you thought it’d be impossible for it to go unanswered and ignored?”
It was a sudden and random question, one that had Murdock’s head turning to look back at him instinctively until he remembered just where his head was so inappropriately placed. Clearing his throat and turning it only slightly instead, he nodded.
“Sure, write to the old boy every year. It’s nice to fill him in on how things are goin’, ya know?”
“Murdock, I’m being serious, here.”
“So am I! I’ve written to him every year since I was old enough to hold a pencil and he wrote back every year. Well…till he became too busy and couldn’t write back no more. But, as a thirteen year old I suppose I accepted that. After all, I did move out to Virginia and forgot to leave a forwarding address. Plus, times were changin’, he needed to keep up with the times. Guess maybe I shoulda started emailing him instead, but there’s something special and more personal about a handwritten letter that just –“
“Murdock!”
Lips clamping shut abruptly, his large brown eyes blinked in surprise at the tone Face had just taken with him. He was only trying to answer the question and give his explanation. Though, as he lay there actually thinking about it, he supposed he didn’t give much of an answer at all really. No wonder Face snapped at him.
Scowling, Face gave a quiet growl as he shook his head. “Forget it…never mind. I never should have asked it in the first place.”
“What? No…Temp, I…I’m sorry. I…aw dang it, Facey. I didn’t mean to make ya upset, I…yes. I’ve written to him and prayed for stuff so hard I thought it’d be impossible to ignore or go unanswered.”
There was a small pause before, “You do know Santa’s not real, right? He’s just a rich man’s ploy to inflate the pockets of the money hungry business owners and toy manufacturers.”
Oh Lord it was next to impossible to keep up with that boy’s line of thought sometimes! And people thought Murdock was crazy confusing? They obviously had never had a late night heart-to-heart with Templeton Peck! Moving to sit up again, legs folding Indian style under him, Murdock’s eyebrows knitted in confusion as he stared at his best friend.
“Wha…Face, ya ain’t makin’ sense, amigo. What’s your lack of belief in Jolly Ol’ St. Nick got to do with writing letters and prayin’ for stuff?”
“Everything!” Exclaimed Face, arms thrown out to the side for emphasis. “Think about it, Murdock! You wrote and prayed for stuff every year, right?” Not giving him time to answer, Face started in on the tyrant he’d obviously been building up and bottling away for years.
“How many times would your prayers get answered or would you get what you wrote to Santa for? Rarely, if ever at all, am I right? It’s all just a scam! And trust me, I’ve played enough of them in my time to know one when I see one, and buddy-boy Christmas is the biggest scam of them all! People always going on about how special this time of year is, well what’s so special about it? Jesus wasn’t even born in December! He was born in the spring. The church just stole a pagan holiday on the 25th and proclaimed it was Christmas in an attempt to convert people and give them a holiday in the winter worth people having to brave the frigid cold just to make the trek out and hear the story of how this little baby was forced to be born in a stable with filthy animals just because there was supposedly no room at the inn. It’s the biggest scam around! It’s commercialism, Murdock! Face it, that’s all Christmas and Santa have come down to being. The mother lode of all scams!”
Murdock’s eyes grew wider the more agitated Face got over the subject. Still, Face wasn’t finished. He’d barely paused to even take a breath before continuing.
“Poor kids all over the world write to this omniscient being, hoping he will bring them a toy, or warm clothes, or a place to live that isn’t a leaky cardboard box, or a family of their own and they never get any of it!” Tears were beginning to well up in Face’s eyes. “Good little boys and girls go into church at Christmas and pray that they’ll one day have a happy family again, that daddy will stop drinking, mommy will stop crying, and their siblings will stop fighting and yelling at their parents. It never, ever, happens. And you want to know why? Because there is no Santa and no God. You hear me?”
Face reached his arms out, grasping Murdock by the shoulders and gave him a slight shake. His eyes were burning with pain and anger, shining bright with unshed tears. “Santa didn’t stop writing you because he got busy! He stopped writing because your grandparents died. They wrote the letters back to you, not him. And all those prayers that went unanswered? They went unanswered because there was no one there to answer them. Don’t you think if there was a God then there wouldn’t be so many fuckin’ orphans out there without a home to call their own this time of year?”
The tears were slowly starting to roll down Face’s cheeks and his chest rose and fell harder and harsher with each passing sentence. “That they wouldn’t have to share a lodging room with twenty other guys and feel lucky if they even got a new pair of stinking socks for a present Christmas morning?! No, there wouldn’t be if he were real, because I can promise you every guy I lived with back in LA had the same prayer every Christmas Eve,” his voice cracked and shook as he recited the plea he gave each morning, and double hard on Christmas, “‘God, please let this be my last Christmas in this place. Please let me find a home to finally call my own and a family to love me come this time next year.’ Yeah. Some guys got lucky and they did get adopted out, but a lot of us didn’t. A lot of us didn’t, Murdock! We had to spend another Christmas alone, forgotten, and unloved, even by the Santa who supposedly made sure no child was forgotten on Christmas.”
Murdock swallowed hard as he stared at Face in disbelief. He’d never really heard Face go off on such a venomous rant before. Though, after hearing him out, Murdock at least finally knew what had been bothering his friend so much when it came to Christmas, anyway. So that was what this was all about? The snapping at Hannibal at dinner, the grumpy sour mood since going on winter break, and the disappearing for a few hours? It was all because the one holiday that was supposed to be special for all who celebrated it, a holiday meant for family and loved ones being near, it had never been special for Templeton. It was just another reminder of how alone he was in the world.
Not giving it a second thought, his long arms covered in flannel airplane pajamas moved to pull Face in for a hug. He fought against the squirming to hold Face tight, and Murdock’s cheek finally came to rest against that soft mop of perfectly combed and styled dark-blond hair. Oh his poor Faceguy. His poor, poor Templeton. Tears stung at his own eyes as he thought about everything Face had just said. It was definitely hard being an orphaned teen any day of the year, but especially at Christmas. Pulling back after the squirming finally came to an end, Murdock quickly wiped at his eyes.
“Aw Temp’ton…you…” he mumbled, his voice thick enough with emotion and Southern accent to completely wipe the middle part of Face’s name out, “you’re so fulla shit, ya know that?” Sniffling softly and giving a slight chuckle at the look of epic confusion replacing anger on best friend’s face, Murdock moved so he was sitting closer, one hand coming to rest on Face’s soft, damp cheek.
“I…I knew my grandparents had been answerin’ the letters. I knew it for years; their writin’ gave ‘em away every time but…I...I didn’t care.” Murdock paused to shrug. A sad smile twitching at the corners of his mouth as he continued, “It made them happy and gave them something to look forward to every year, and knowin’ I made them happy by writing letter after letter, year after year…it made me happy. Even after they left I kept writin’ cuz…well…” he paused, worrying at his lip as a few rogue tears escaped and made a break for it down his own cheeks, “cuz it made me feel like maybe they hadn’t really gone, ya know? Like they were still with me and I wasn’t alone any more. Made me feel close to them even though I knew I’d never get a letter answered ever again.”
God it hurt so badly to actually finally admit that to someone, to reveal one little secret that had people wondering about his sanity. No, he didn’t actually still believe in Santa, he hadn’t for years, but writing those letters was the only way he knew to keep the memory of his grandparents alive and special in his heart.
Gulping and sniffling, he continued to speak, his voice soft and calming and sounding far more mature than any seventeen-year-old should…certainly far more sane than people gave him credit for.
“I agree one hundred percent with ya darlin’ that Christmas has become too commercial. I feel the same way. I hate that shopping centers start putting decorations up on November 2nd and Wal-Mart starts deckin’ the garden center out before they even clear out the Halloween decorations. I would love nothin’ more than to hop in a time machine and go back to the days where holidays actually meant something special to people. To hear people sing, “Deck the Halls” instead of “Swamp the Malls”.” He paused when that earned him a soft, half chuckle from Face.
“For carolers to sing outside of doors and expect nothing more than a smiling face and the joy of knowing they brightened someone’s day for even just a little while. More importantly I wish so much I could take you back in time with me so you could enjoy one good family Christmas with me and my grandparents. See for yourself it ain’t all about ‘gimme, gimme, gimme.’ That it’s about being with people who care about you and love you no matter what.”
Murdock’s eyes flashed with hurt for a moment, before he added, “And if you think your prayers for a family went unanswered all these years, then shame on you Templeton Peck. I take great offense to that and I’m sure Hannibal and BA, and even sweet ol’ Mrs. B, would too. You’ve seen the way Hannibal looks out for all of us, especially you! Heck, I’m barely less than a year younger than him and he looks after me like a freakin’ mother hen sometimes! Hannibal’s that big brother we all wanted but never had. BA…well…alright BA’s probably more like that illegitimate cousin everyone knows about but won’t claim yet loves anyway for some weird reason. And you buddy-boy,” Murdock quipped, jabbing his finger into Face’s chest to make a point before putting it against his cheek again, “you’re that little brother everyone loves so very much and would kill for if you asked us too. You’ve got a family, Facey. So don’t go tellin’ me you don’t, cuz ya do. Right here in front of you.” His smile turned semi-sad as his fingers moved from Face’s cheek once more, this time to tap out syllables against his friend’s nose during his last sentence, driving the point home as best he could.
Their eyes locked and faces only inches apart, Temp swallowed hard as what Murdock said sunk in.
“If…if Hannibal’s the big brother, BA’s the…illegitimate cousin and I…I’m the little brother then…what’s that make you?”
A sparkle of mischief sprang back to life in Murdock’s dark eyes, the corners of his mouth turning up in a crooked little grin. Sitting so close, it made his heart flutter and stomach jump just feeling that soft breeze of warm air come from Face’s lips and pass over his own. Face wasn’t making any attempts to put distance between them, which sure did make Murdock’s heart beat just a bit faster as he thought up some silly, typically ridiculous response to give in answer to that question.
“Me? Aw shucks Face. I’m that crazy relative that no one wants to claim. Who’d want to admit they have a certifiable Looney Toon swingin’ from the branches of their family tree? Ya might say I’m that acorn that fell and bounced under the—“
Murdock’s brown eyes suddenly sprang wide open as his sentence was cut short by a pair of soft, warm lips pressing to his. If ever he were to be interrupted, having an awkward, closed mouthed kiss was probably the best way to go! Eyes fluttering shut as he slowly relaxed and returned that chaste and curious first kiss, Murdock’s scattered mind rejoiced at the fact that they most certainly were in no way, shape, or physical form related and family!
Their heads finally pulling back after a moment, Murdock felt his entire chest swell with happiness. Face had gotten his Christmas wish, and Murdock had just gotten his!
“I’d claim you. You’re with me.” Face said softly as he timidly moved to nudge their noses together, his blue eyes fluttering open to look out from under long dark lashes. Oh Lordy yes, both of their Christmas wishes had been answered!
“Mm…likewise, Muchacho.”
Exchanging quiet chuckles, Face glanced away nervously, his eyes casting to the clock on the wall as it ticked over to two a.m. Taking a deep breath and moving to stand, his hand reached out to help Murdock off the couch as well.
“Hey, it’s pretty late. Should probably hit the sheets, don’t’cha think?”
Murdock quirked a brow as he reached to take the hand offered. He wanted to make a joke about how what the girls at school said about Face was true, he did move fast, but decided against it. He’d have to try and corner the boy sometime to find out just which team it was he swung for and what his intentions were. In the meantime though, he got one kiss out of the ordeal, he was going to see how many more he could get before this Christmas was over.
Smirking, he pulled Face back down onto the couch with him, the discarded Santa hat promptly making its grand reappearance atop the blonde’s head. His arms wrapped around Face’s waist, he dragged the boy with him as he laid back down, snuggling in and pulling the blanket up around them warm and safe. With a smack of his lips against Face’s cheek, Murdock nuzzled his nose into that soft hair just behind his ear and huffed contently.
“Nope…you said you’d sit up and watch ‘White Christmas’ with me. It’s not done yet. Sides…I wanna try and catch Santa in the act. I know I can stay up long enough this year to catch him, I just know it!”
Face sighed heavily, his eyes rolling up to see the white faux fur of that hat still on his head. “…you’re never going to catch him, you know that right?”
“Sure I will! He has to slip up one of these years! And when he does, I wanna be there so I can prove to everyone that he’s really real.”
The act was back up, chasing away the seriousness of their previous conversation. Even if Murdock didn’t believe in Santa anymore, it was still fun to pretend like he did. Especially if it meant getting Face to smile fondly at him and chuckle. He could feel Face shaking his head gently as he moved to snuggle down onto the couch more, nestling himself into Murdock’s arms, complete with those silly childish flannel plane pajamas. Trying to hold back a yawn, he blinked blurrily at the television screen.
“Never gonna happen, Murdock…” Face’s quiet, sleep thick voice murmured through the darkness.
Murdock huffed a soft laugh as he tightened his arms around Face’s stomach and moved to bury his nose in his hair a bit more. “Oh yeah? How come, darlin’? Do tell.”
“Pft…cuz he’s magic, duh.”
Smirking in triumph, Murdock wiggled happily to himself as Face slowly drifted off to sleep against him. It was possible Face may not remember in the morning that he gave in and played along with Murdock’s game of pretend, but that was fine. It didn’t really matter. Murdock just hoped that Face did remember their talk though, and what Murdock had said about having a family whether it was how Face had imagined it to be or not. The last thing Murdock wanted to do was have a full and complete repeat of the whole ordeal next Christmas. The snuggling on the couch and kisses he would love to repeat, just not the anger and sadness that lead up to them.
A soft and contented huff ruffled Face’s hair as Murdock brushed his lips across the back of Face’s neck, pressing a gentle kiss to the base of his spine. His eyes falling shut and failing to open again, Murdock would just have to wait till next Christmas to try and catch the jolly fat man to have him deliver a letter to his grandparents for him. Three cups of cocoa made with warm milk, a warm body snuggled in against him and a comfortable place to sleep for a change was too much for him to fight off.
The lights the TV as Bing and Danny stepping out from behind a gorgeous tree dressed as Santas provided the soft, gentle light that helped to lull Murdock to sleep. The sweet voices singing of dreams of snow and magically special Christmases finished him off, and carried both of them off to a dream world; to their own future white Christmases spent together in that pretty little farm house with a fireplace and stockings hung with care, and tree in the corner, presents stacked everywhere and plenty of space for the ‘cats’ to run and play. With all the laughter, warmth and joy that came from having your family near at Christmastime.