Los Angeles - The First Touch/Like A Virgin Mix

[notjustaface]

 They almost died in Mexico. Again.

If it wasn't for a hell of a lot of luck, a plan that came together, and Murdock's ability to not get everyone killed landing an enemy helicopter at base they wouldn't have been "almost".

It's not the first time that's happened... not even the first time this year. But, it's the first time since Borneo, at least.

Face wasn't shocked when Hannibal shoved a set of keys in his hand - or told him to take the weekend and get a shower and sleep in real bed before reporting back to base. They earned a little R&R. He's not even particularly shocked when Murdock climbs in the jeep with him. It's not like they've got much of anyone else to get into trouble with, and things have been pretty much all right since the incident he's "forgotten". He is, however, a little surprised at the energy vibrating the small hotel room when they walk inside.

Double occupancy, second floor next to the ice machine and overlooking the pool.

Before the door even hammers shut behind them, he's dropped his rucksack on one of the queen beds and is peeling off his dirty green t-shirt on the way to the blessed shower.

Comments

[notjustaface]

Well... hello there...

Face manages to yank the curtain closed behind them before fingers descend on his normally not-that-ticklish side.

"I cheat!" He squeals, grabbing him by the wrist with one hand and pushing him back against the shower wall. "You're still wearing pants."

[notthatcrazy]

"Right. So you usually shower in your socks?"

He gives him a cheeky look.

"I think we're both winners in this game."

[notjustaface]

Damn it.

"Well..." he smirks, closing the distance between them - making special note that this is far too much like a move he's pulled before; "I think the only fair solution is a compromise."

[notthatcrazy]

Move schmove. Any sense of propriety got left on the floor along with most of their clothing.

"And what d'you suggest?"

[notjustaface]

"You... take off your pants..." he murmurs, looking down between them. "And I'll take off my socks..."

An almost awkward manic laugh bubbles up and he points to the two bars of wrapped soap on the tray.

"We'll rematch to see who gets cleaned up first - you wash my back, I'll wash yours?"

[notthatcrazy]

He knows from manic laughs. The hand on Face's side reaches up to rest on his shoulder, as the other one's already reaching for his waistband.

"Now that's a compromise I can live with."

[notjustaface]

It works, just like back at the barracks only private... and in the same stall. Just like that.

Except not.

Still, though, he's already got the ball rolling and he's not in the mood stop when things are getting interesting. he pushes back against the touch - moving to help with Murdock's belt but he hesitates and goes for his own socks instead.

Not that kind of shower, man.

"I thought it might work out."

[notthatcrazy]

It must be hard to take your socks off when you're knee-deep in Denial.

"Mmm. Sounds like a plan."

Momentary visions of Hannibal's lectures really don't help the mood. He shakes his head as he finally gets rid of the pants, tossing them past the curtain to land somewhere near the room's small sink.

[notjustaface]

It's a nice warm river...

Face manages to not only get his frankly disgusting socks off, he does so without even more of the potential horseplay before cranking the handle to a warm spray.

"I'll go first," he grins, turning his back on Murdock to let the water catch his filthy hair and drip down his naked skin to make a small brown snake toward the drain.

[notthatcrazy]

They really are pretty filthy. He's got nothing against cows in general, but he's kinda thinking a big ol' steak sounds good for dinner.

There's a soft crinkle as he reaches over for the soap. "Hell of a day."

[notjustaface]

He wouldn't disagree, especially once food is actually in front of him.

"Hell of a week," he chuckles under his breath, closing his eyes as he tilts his face up to bear the brunt of the cold water gradually warming to an acceptable temperature. "But the plan worked."

It always does, probably not as originally intended, but it works.

Face turns his head to offer a meaningful look before adding; "Couldn't have done it without you. No other pilot's crazy enough to land an enemy chopper at an active air force base."

[notthatcrazy]

The plan rarely goes off without a hitch. Sometimes there's more hitch than plan.

"All part of our service at WTF Air."

The dirt can't quite hide the bruises they both got in the call of duty. Cattle really don't take well to personal space invasions.

[notjustaface]

They're badges of honor, even if Face can feel them settling in on his chest, shoulders and back. At least they didn't have to ride alone... though he's still not sure if Murdock really does think he speaks bovine or if it was just something to get them through the seeming endless hours of finding every bump and jostle there was.

"We're still standing." He turns, letting the water streak down his back as he looks over his friend - stepping back so the spray can at least wash away the road dust. Any mission they can limp away from is a success - and when it goes off without a major injury? Bonus.

[notthatcrazy]

That's the thing about Murdock. Most of the time you can't tell.

"Yep. And no one's bleedin'."

His eyes linger on a particularly sore-looking spot near Face's collarbone before he looks away.

[notjustaface]

That look, he's seen it before but he's gotten good at not thinking about it. Another thing to put in the compartment neatly marked "Things I Will Not Be Dealing With".

Instead, he turns to face the shower head and asks casually; "Get my back?"

[notthatcrazy]

"Yep."

The soap is unwrapped and he starts scrubbing, mindful of the various ouchy spots. If he spends a little more time on certain areas.. well, they can add that to the pile of Things They Arent Thinking About.

[notjustaface]

Which is getting considerably difficult not to be thinking about as the slide of wet skin against soapy skin mingles with the combined exhaustion and exhilaration of the good end of a mission.

At least, he tells himself that's all there is to it. Physical response. Simple, nice.

He lets out a soft moan when a particularly tender area is grazed - closing his eyes against the building warmth of the small distance between them. "Feels good."

[notthatcrazy]

Simple. Riiight.

He mutters a quiet apology, reaching out and tickling his side again. He's not that good at compartmentalizing but he is good at living in the moment, and he's feeling a little playful.

[notjustaface]

Face curls into the tickle, stifling a laugh that almost breaks the easy tension of Murdock's fingers against his side.

Resulting in the slide of a hand a little further forward toward his belly.

"Hey!" He grins, amused at his ability to find the rare ticklish spot at all. "Tickles..."

[notthatcrazy]

He raises an eyebrow at that, filing that knowledge away for future reference.

"Water hot enough?"

His hand settles on Face's hip.

[notjustaface]

He considers the lingering touch for a second, scrubbing over his own chest in a lazy zigzag.

"Could be hotter." His voice drops to a suggestive purr; "As hot as you like it."

[notthatcrazy]

"Don't tease."

He swipes a hand over Face's abs. They're definitely straying out of the 'wash my back' comfort zone.

[notjustaface]

The slide of fingers over his muscles is enough to turn him around with a less-than-platonic smirk.

"Who say's I'm teasing?"

He raises an eyebrow, finding Murdock's hand and squeezing it purposefully as he takes away the soap only to rub the small white bar over Murdock's hairy chest.

It's amazing how that comfort zone shrinks after a few years together.

[notthatcrazy]

And at that moment, it's easy to close the distance between them and press their lips together. The least time they did this there was more clothing between them, but he's not complaining.

He moves back after a moment or two. "Good."

[notjustaface]

If there were clothes involved, a shirt would be wrapped tightly in his fist to facilitate a solid, properly wall slamming kiss - just to make up for that shy little peck. Instead, he lets the rapidly dwindling bar slip between his palm and Murdock's chest, leaving him to scrub his fingertips through the coarse hair.

"More like this..." he murmurs, pushing him back against the wet tile. It's not even a breath before he kisses him slow and gently, tasting the strange tang of curry and bubble gum from their lunch and somehow - cow.

No matter. It was definitely not a problem.

His tongue sweeps over Murdock's lips and across his tongue, and then he breaks away with the same sure smirk. "Much better."