Totally Not A Date. Date.

[notjustaface]

Things have been good, work has been good. On the whole, it's business as usual. Maybe a few more nights in, passing up a pretty girl he could have had without thinking from time to time, but after a few solid months he's back to his old self.

Back to his game. Back to good friends and one night stands with the occasional brush with death just to keep things fresh. Back to boxes tucked away neatly with minimal shaking in the back of his mind because he doesn't have to think about it.

Base housing is comfortable living for the moment, a small house split two ways with a room across the hall from his best friend that doesn't put too much of dent in his stipend. And, it's bro-night. Dinner that may or may not kill him, a movie complete with Murdock's hand-puppet commentary and a few beers. Maybe other things, if it's a good night.

He's fresh from the shower in nothing but a pair of loose shorts when he follows the familiar tang of scorched meat in the air from the tiny back patio. "You cookin', Murdock?"

Comments

[notthatcrazy]

"Yep. Almost done."

Things have been pretty good lately. They've settled into something that, while not ideal in his book, is at least a very happy medium. And probably the most he's likely to get considering the specter of DADT hanging over their heads.

Not to mention the myriad other issues they're dealing with.

[notjustaface]

"Mmm..." he groans, poking his head through the open sliding door with a smirk. "I smell meat. And it smells good."

It's an easy sort of routine, leaning against the doorway as he watches the man work the grill - catching the flashes of his stained 'kiss the cook' apron as he adds a dash of god-knows-what that makes the flames jump and sizzle.

[notthatcrazy]

He's trying to go easy on the fireballs this time. The neighbors have complained.

"Everything else's already ready to go."

Pretty soon, the alarmingly-cooked steaks are ready to join them.

[notjustaface]

It's a good thing his gut's been tempered over the years, the sight of charred beef is actually mouthwatering.

"Lead the way, chef. I'll grab a shirt and meet you there."

Because he's classy like that.

[notthatcrazy]

"Don't feel like you need to get dressed on my account," he teases. (Although really, which one of them instituted Shirtless Saturday?)

"See you at the table."

[notjustaface]

Hey, Shirtless Saturday is a mutually appreciated institution. As is underwear Wednesday.

He pulls on a gray t-shirt that's carelessly draped over the arm of the sofa, one of the few things actually out of place in their 'bachelor pad', and isn't surprised that it smells like engine oil and gunpowder... undoubtedly not his.

"You pick out the movie yet?" Face asks, pushing back first through the swinging door to the eat-in kitchen.

[notthatcrazy]

"Mmm. Might have something in mind."

The sight of Face wearing his shirt does things to him that should not be spoken of in polite company.

[notjustaface]

When he turns, his smile fades a little - a moment of confusion more than anything before he cocks an eyebrow and asks; "Expecting company?"

The table's laid out with a red and white checked cloth and small white candles on mismatched saucers (to match their mismatched china, naturally) and what appears to be rice and a broccoli coated in cheese. Not bad, not bad at all.

Settling into his chair, Murdock's being at it's normal place beside it, he reaches for an overly full wine glass.

[notthatcrazy]

He shrugs. "Just thought it'd be nice for a change."

The meat gets plated in short order and he takes his seat. If Face listens closely, he may hear music playing softly.

[notjustaface]

The far off strains of a saxophone might tickle his ear, but for the moment he's more focused on his plate, dishing sides onto Murdock's plate and then his own as usual.

"It is... nice..." he chuckles slightly, licking his lower lip. Different, but not bad.

[notthatcrazy]

he catches the hesitance.

"What, you don't like my ambience?"

[notjustaface]

He turns his head just enough to catch his eyes, flashing a smile that's only half bullshit.

"I love your ambiance." Taking a sip, the wine is distinctly of the cheap boxed variety but no less pleasant. "And the excellent wine list."

[notthatcrazy]

They're back on familiar ground with the jokes.

"Yeah, well, it was either red wine or Kool-Aid, and somehow I didn't think that went with the meal."

[notjustaface]

It's comfortable, nice.

"I prefer Kool-Aid with chicken." He nods, smiling into his glass before returning it to the table to work on the meal.

He's got to admit, it is kind of nice. Almost domestic.

[notthatcrazy]

"I'll remember that."

It's peaceful. Kind of a nice respite from the general ridiculousness and occasional life-threatening peril their work entails.

[notjustaface]

A little ridiculous is good for the soul. A lot of it is... well, kinda their lifestyle.

It's not the first dinner they've had, not even the hundredth but there's something about the flicker of candle light on chipped plates that makes it feel kinda special.

When the song changes, a familiar low bass croons over the speakers in the background and he can't help but chuckle under his breath.

[notthatcrazy]

He chuckles softly.

"Forgot that was on that CD..."

[notjustaface]

His grin spreads, stretching his lips. He's gotta admit, it's kinda infectious.

"Oh, darlin' I... can't get enough of your love babe..." he mimics into his fork between bites.

"So cheezy... is this one of those infomercial compilations?"

[notthatcrazy]

"I buy weird crap when I can't sleep sometimes."

He may be making a piece of broccoli do backing vocals.

[notjustaface]

It's easy to get lost in the moment, maybe a little too easy. Swaying side to side in his chair, soon enough he's singing along in his best horrible impression.

"What kind of love is this? That you're givin' me?"

It's silly and just the sort of thing that sometimes happens.

[notthatcrazy]

It's gotten easier and easier over the years. He grabs the saltshaker to use as a microphone as he croons along with the next line.

"Is it in your kiss, or just because you're sweet?"

[notjustaface]

In turn, it's gotten easy to let go and sometimes let the mask slip with a bit of silly - and it's the best thing Murdock's ever taught him.

"... all I know is every time you're here... I feel the change - Somethin' moves - I scream your name..."

His voice cuts out with a small laugh he won't identify as a giggle. But damn it...

[notthatcrazy]

Yeah, by that point he's laughing so much he can't continue.

"Thank you for that..."

[notjustaface]

Collecting himself, maybe a little flushed in the cheeks, Face manages to stifle his giggles in a bite of cheese that may have at one point touched broccoli.

"Well, if anyone should be subjected to my vocal stylings... it should be the guy who bought Cheeziest Love Songs volume forty."

[notthatcrazy]

"Aw, you know I love our duets."

It's really true.

"Dinner's good?"