Chapter Text
~ Saturday, December 17th, 1983 ~
The radio was playing Christmas music, L.A. was sunny, warm, and glittering with colorful lights and fake Christmas trees, and Face was one stop away from being finished with his shopping trip. It wasn't even noon yet which meant he would have time to get an upscale lunch in the city and not be subjected to more soup which put him in a festive spirit more than anything else.
The ammo, two new rifles to replace the ones left behind on their last job, ratchet straps, a pulley system, a box of bungee cords, and half a dozen other random items were tucked safely in the trunk of the Corvette. All he needed now was the handsaw which would be an easy grab at the hardware store. The only issue with a hardware store was that he didn't exactly look like a weekend warrior trying to repair a roof leak or fix the plumbing. Or whatever a weekend warrior would use a handsaw to repair.
Ah well.
He tapped the steering wheel and sang along with Gene Autry about Rudolf.
Business men in nice suits had to go to hardware stores sometimes, he was certain. Fairly certain. He shook his head, adjusting the rearview mirror. He was certain. Look at him! Nice suit and on his way to a hardware store. Men in coveralls and flannel didn't have the corner on the market of hardware stores. He probably shouldn't have worn a suit, but he'd been dressed, enjoying a cup of coffee and the newspaper, before Hannibal had called and announced they were indeed taking the Garrett job. He'd listed off all the things he thought they needed - including Murdock - sending Face off in a hurry without even being able to finish his coffee.
Stopped at a red light, Face adjusted his tie and was humming along with Frosty the Snowman, thinking about lunch again, when the phone rang. He sighed. There went lunch. Steeling himself, he picked up the phone.
"Frosty's Fried Froglegs," he answered cheerily. "How can we frost you today?"
"You got frog leg soup?" Murdock asked without missing a beat.
"Sorry. No soup." Face accelerated as the light turned green. "What's up?"
"Uh, Hannibal thought of some more stuff we need."
"Of course he did." Face hunted for a place to pull over.
"How come you don't got soup, Frosty?"
"We're a frosty fried food joint. You can't fry soup."
"I could try."
"What does he need now?" Face asked, safely parked and notebook in hand.
Murdock listed off a handful more items.
"Snowshoes, are you kidding me?"
"Nope." Murdock popped the p loud enough that Face cringed and held the phone away from his ear.
"Why do we need snowshoes?"
"Dunno. Didn't ask. Hey, Facey, can you get me some onions while you're out?"
Face took a steadying breath, staring at a display of Santa's elves zip-lining across the street, the curves on the tops of their little green hats holding them to the wire. It didn't look so far fetched from some of the things Hannibal had come up with over the years.
"Why do we need onions, Murdock?" he asked, despite already having a really good idea why. He'd dropped Murdock off at Hannibal's rental earlier and the man had immediately gone looking for a pot and spices. Face had rushed out the door before he got put on K.P. duty.
"For the soup."
Of course. For the soup. The soup thing had been going on since before Thanksgiving which was a long time for one of Murdock's obsessions to last. Face knew he shouldn't complain. Soup was nowhere near as bad as some of Murdock's previous fixations had been.
"How many onions?" Face shrugged at the zip-lining elves.
"Two. No, better make it three. Three onions. The big white ones, ok, not the skinny green ones."
Face decided not to ask. "Fine. Three big white onions."
"Thanks!"
"Uh huh. Anything else?"
"Nope."
"Can you please double check with Hannibal?" Face glanced at the time. "This is going to take me awhile. I don't want to find out there's something else he needs."
He held the phone away from his ear as Murdock shouted for Hannibal. After a moment's conversation between them, Murdock was back on the phone, breathing heavily.
"Zat vill be all for now, monsieur."
"Yeah, see it's the 'for now' part that I don't love," Face muttered.
"All for now," Murdock repeated, his voice deeper, his breathing heavier.
"Ok." Face kept the phone away from his ear. "See you when I see you."
"I vill eagerly avait your arrival." Murdock ended the call with a kissing noise.
Face shook his head and hung up the phone. French Onion soup must be on the menu, although Murdock's accent wavered a bit between French and German so who knew for sure? Who even knew if Hannibal had anything in his cupboards to make soup? Murdock could be heating a pot of nothing but water and salt for all Face knew.
Pulling out onto the road, he drove under the frolicking elves and toward his next destination. If he hurried, he could still stop somewhere for lunch. It wouldn't be a nice relaxing sit-down affair at a classy place like he'd planned, but even a chili dog and fries would be better than more soup.
An hour later, he had everything but the three onions. He'd debated asking the guy at the chili dog stand for an extra cup of onions, but decided against it in the end. Murdock was very by the book when it came to his recipes. So Face just got onions on his chili dog and enjoyed a moment of peace eating his lunch while sitting on a low retaining wall overlooking the Pacific.
A cool breeze came off the ocean, but the sun was bright and hot and the only change from summer was that most of the bikinis were green and red or peppermint striped and he really couldn't complain about that.
He finished his lunch, then hopped back into the Corvette. One grocery store stop for onions and his duties were complete. He tapped the steering wheel along with the beat to Christmas Wrapping by The Waitresses as he sped through the holiday-busy streets.
And then the phone rang.
"Aw, seriously?" he grumped, turning down the volume on the radio. Picking up the phone, he said, "Hannibal, how many times do I have to tell you it's easier if you give me the whole list at once, then I don't have to go all over creation twice when you forget something."
"Hannibal ain't here. I need you to get some stuff."
Face blew out a breath and said, "Ok, what do you need?"
There was a strange hesitation on the other end of the line. B.A. usually wasn't one to mince words or to play games.
"B.A.?"
"I need gluesticks."
"Um…ok." Face frowned. "Gluesticks?"
"Yeah, man. You know. Gluesticks."
"Sure. Yeah. Gluesticks." Face put a question mark after the word. That was a new one. "How many?"
"Better get…twenty."
Face's eyebrows rose and he almost missed a stop sign. "Twenty gluesticks?"
"Yes." A long moment of silence then, very softly, "Need some glitter, too."
"I know I did not just hear B.A. Baracus use the word glitter," Face said, grinning, but not outright laughing because that would just get him in trouble later when he got back to Hannibal's place.
"I need glitter," B.A. growled. "Green and red."
"Uh huh. Green and red glitter. Got it." Face smothered a laugh. "Glitter bombs? New type of ordnance?"
"Shut up. It's for the kids," B.A. muttered. "Doin' Christmas crafts this afternoon."
"How much glitter do you need?" Face pulled over, already wondering where one found glitter. Or where one found gluesticks for that matter…
"Um… maybe ten of each?"
Face frowned. How was glitter packaged, anyway? By the pound? Did it come in bulk? He shrugged. He'd figure it out. If he could figure out where one bought glitter in the first place.
"Ok. You got it. Glue sticks and red and green glitter." Face jotted them in his notebook. Not even close to the strangest things he'd ever had to obtain. "Anything else?"
"No. Thanks, man."
"No problem."
Face smiled as the line went dead. He put the phone down and adjusted his sunglasses, ready to pull out onto the street, then realized he had absolutely no idea, none whatsoever, where one found glitter or gluesticks. Tapping the steering wheel, he debated. If it had been Hannibal asking for glitter, Face would've told him to go find it himself. But B.A. was asking for it for crafting with the kids.
This afternoon.
Face looked at his watch, sudden panic gripping his heart. It was already after noon. He should've asked exactly what time B.A. was planning his glittering soiree.
Murdock's onions were going to have to wait.
He burned rubber pulling out in front of a baby blue Pacer. He'd head to Century City and hope for the best.