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B.A. walked into the beach house that the team was staying at for their current mission. He had just finished running a full check on his van so that it was all set for Hannibal's plan. The plan called for the cover of night and the clock in the kitchen told him that it was barely after noon. So B.A. was on his way to his room to catch some shuteye to make sure he would be just as prepared for this new fool plan as his precious van.
When he passed by the living room, he slowed his pace for a moment to take in the sight of his fellow team members. And to make sure that a certain crazy fool wasn't getting up to anything he shouldn't be.
B.A.'s mind was put at ease when he saw that said crazy fool was fast asleep, sprawled across the sofa. Murdock's ever-present baseball cap was pulled low over his eyes and he had one shoe on. It's partner lay on the floor at the end of the couch below where the lanky man's feet were hanging over the armrest.
Across from Murdock, Face had settled himself into an overstuffed recliner. His bare feet were up on the ottoman, one knee pulled up to make a place to rest the pad of paper he was scribbling on.
'Probably working on some new investment scheme,' B.A. thought, unhappily. Already finding ways to lose money they haven't even got yet.
Then B.A. noticed the dopey smile that graced the conman's namesake as he moved the pencil across the paper.
'Scratch that,' B.A. changed his mind, 'I bet he's writing a phony love letter to some chick he's hoping to jump into bed with as soon as we get back to LA.'
B.A. rolled his eyes and continued to his room, making sure to set up his early warning system so that no one, especially not Murdock, could sneak up on him while he was sleeping.
'Crazy man ain't ever getting me like that again!'
***
When B.A. woke a few hours later, the sky had just begun to show the first colors of dusk.
He grumbled to himself as he got up and headed to the kitchen, hoping Hannibal had returned with the parts he needed to finish the tracker they were going to plant, waterproof this time.
Once again, he paused as he came to the living room.
Surprisingly, Murdock hadn't moved an inch, hat still covering his eyes and mismatched feet still dangling.
Face had apparently decided to get some rest too. He was laid back in the recliner, pencil on the floor where it must have landed after falling from his hand when he fell asleep.
The pad he had been using was jammed down the side of the chair, between its armrest and seat cushion.
Curious as to who Face had been mooning over, B.A. stealthily made his way across the room and slipped the pad away from its owner.
When B.A. flipped it open he was surprised to find not words or numbers, but drawings.
On one page, there was a pair of dark, soulful eyes staring back at him. They looked familiar, but B.A. couldn't place them. Their gaze was unnerving though so he quickly flipped the page.
The next page was a sketch of a shaggy mutt, its front end crouched and its ears perked up, tongue lolling out playfully. Its back end was in the air and if it had been real, the dog's tail would have been wagging furiously.
Underneath the dog, in the neat block letters that Face usually preferred, he had written one word: BILLY.
B.A. shook his head, 'They both crazy,' and flipped the page.
At first, B.A thought it was just a bunch of squished and misshapen circles lumped together. Then he recognized the shape of a body in one of the groups. They were rough sketches, he realized, not nearly as detailed as the eyes or Billy.
The first form seemed to be stretching, as one would first thing in the morning. The next was crouched, its arms reaching out in front of it. In the one after that, there were two figures who looked to be dancing a waltz, or something like it. The last drawing on that page was also of two figures. This time they were embracing. If they'd had lips, B.A. was sure they would have been kissing.
On one of those figures, Face had drawn a baseball cap. It was the only bit of detailed work on the page.
B.A.'s brow furrowed as he looked from Face to Murdock and back again. Then he returned his attention to the pad in his hands.
At the sight of the next page, B.A. let out a huff of air, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. He glanced at his teammates quickly to make sure he hadn't woken them. They were all pretty light sleepers, war would do that to you.
Face's hand twitched towards his hip as though to go for a weapon and Murdock let out a soft “Whuff,” but stayed settled where he was.
B.A. relaxed, they were both still asleep.
He looked from Murdock to the drawing he was holding. They were the same.
Face had captured every detail of the slumbering pilot. From the tube sock one one foot and the untied sneaker on the other, to the plaid shirt tucked into his khakis, to the thick forest of chest hair exposed by the half-undone button down, to the slightly parted lips, to the worn baseball cap. Murdock's arm was even hanging off of the sofa the same way, palm up, fingers relaxed and open.
It was there that B.A. found the only deviation from reality. Laying next to the couch, nose pressed to Murdock's knuckles, was Billy.
B.A. shook his head at the crazy, oblivious fools and reached down to pick up Face's fallen pencil.
He heard the front door open, signaling Hannibal's return as he scribbled a few words at the top of the page.
Then he closed the sketchbook and put it, and the pencil, on the table next to Face, before retreating to join Hannibal in the kitchen.
***
As soon as B.A. had gone, one of Murdock's eyes popped open, scouting the area. He had woken up when B.A. had let out a soft chuckle and was curious to know why the big guy found Face's ledger so amusing. And to find out what B.A. had written in it before he left.
Murdock pushed back his hat as he slowly sat up, making sure the couch springs didn't creak, and crossed the room in two large steps to snatch up the pad.
When he opened it up, the pilot was shocked. He knew that Face loved art, but he didn't know that he could make it too.
He studied the drawings with disbelieving eyes, tears springing up at the picture of Billy. To find that his friend had remembered so well his few descriptions of his dog... And to see him illustrated so perfectly, just as Murdock saw him... Even he didn't have the words to express what that meant to him.
Then there were the sketches of what, to Murdock, could only have been him and Face, first dancing and then kissing.
Murdock turned the page slowly and his breath caught in his throat.
It was him. Him and Billy. Taking a nap.
He looked from the drawing to his shoes and, sure enough, he was missing one.
'How had he known Billy was napping too?' Murdock thought. 'Maybe he had been barking after the bad guys in his dreams again.'
Murdock smiled down at Billy, who had begun chewing on the toe of Murdock's abandoned sneaker.
Then he turned his gaze to the note scrawled in the corner. Murdock's smile grew into a grin as he read it.
After which, he scooped up the pencil and added a note of his own to the opposite corner.
He replaced the pad and pencil to where B.A. had left them and, finally, let his dark, soulful eyes rest on their conman.
Murdock brushed blond bangs away from sleeping eyes and smiled softly as Face's head turned to follow the touch.
“Time to wakey-wakey, Facey Facey,” Murdock said gently.
Face's eyelids fluttered as he began to stir.
Suddenly, Hannibal's voice rang through the house, “Murdock!”
Face started awake from the noise.
“Coming, Colonel!” Murdock called back, though not quite as loudly.
Face turned to the pilot, calming down from full alert.
“Murdock?”
“Good evening, sleeping beauty!” Murdock grinned.
He leaned over Face, hands planted on the chair's armrests, and pressed a warm, soft kiss into the conman's surprised lips.
Murdock chuckled as he pulled back, Face's eyes were wider than the Texas prairie on a clear summer's day.
“Something in here for ya,” Murdock said as he straightened up, reaching out to pat the sketchbook.
Then he turned and left the room, answering the call of his colonel.
***
It took Face more time than he'd care to admit to process what had just happened.
Murdock had kissed him.
He smiled, and then a look of horror came over his face.
Murdock had seen his sketches!
Murdock had added something!
Face tensed as he sat up and grabbed the pad off of the table, quick as lightning. The pencil, once again, tumbled to the floor.
He thanked the powers that be that he had only just begun to make use of this particular sketchpad. He dreaded to think how his friend would react to seeing the well-worn, battle-scarred pad he had locked up in his old footlocker, kept in storage under an alias, of course. That book was completely full.
'Though maybe I'll have to rethink that,' Face mused, thinking of Murdock's quite favorable reaction to just four pages.
“Something in here for ya.”
Face pulled the book from where he'd been clutching it to his chest and opened it carefully, as though expecting something to pop out of it. One could never be sure with Murdock.
When nothing jumped or sprayed or exploded, Face turned instinctively to the drawing he had done just a few hours earlier.
There were two new additions.
Face groaned and let his head fall back against the chair when he recognized the mechanic's small, neat writing.
'Great. B.A. saw it too.'
“Break his heart and I'll break you sucka!” he had scrawled in the upper corner by the spiral binding.
Face huffed at the threat, but the corners of his lips quirked up at the sentiment beneath the note's gruff surface.
Then Face's gaze fell upon the second addition, written in Murdock's familiar scribble.
He sucked in a breath at the words looking back at him. His eyes misted over and he pressed a hand over his heart.
Face dropped the still-open sketchbook, no longer worried about hiding its contents, and raced from the room.
He was intent on giving his prince charming the fairy tale kiss he deserved for waking his sleeping beauty, for waking Face up to what was right in front of him.
***
The abandoned pad lay in the seat of the recliner, boasting a drawing of a sleeping man with his faithful dog. It had a threat for a title and four simple words in lieu of a signature.
“Love you too, Facey.”