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]

"Aw, you know I love our duets."

It's really true.

"Dinner's good?"

[notjustaface]

They are almost disturbingly fun. Even the ones where he gets saddled with the falsetto femme. And if Murdock ever tells anyone that he sang Cher's part in I Got You Babe, he does know how to dispose of the body.

"Mmm..." he licks his lips, following with another bite for consideration. "Maybe. On both counts."

By which he means yes.

[notthatcrazy]

He does hit the high notes well.

"Just maybe?" He mock-pouts at him.

[notjustaface]

It's a gift.

Grinning into his wineglass, he offers an affectionate eye roll.

"It's delicious. Thank you." And he means it, really. As much as he pokes at Murdock's cooking, it's more than a shade better than he does for himself.

[notthatcrazy]

"Any time."

It's worth it for those moments when he gets to see him let his guard down.

[notjustaface]

It's a soft, unspoken affection - but it's there. Nobody else gets to see half of what he does, even when they're not naked.

Settling into a quiet comfortable rhythm, it's easy to talk shop - the Apache Murdock's working on, the short deployment looming closer overhead every time Face catches a few spare hours with the colonel - until the last bite is tucked in his belly and he relaxes back against the chair, content to watch Murdock push the remnants of rice around his plate.

"Dare I ask if there's dessert?"

[notthatcrazy]

"Would I serve you dinner without dessert?"

Come on, give him a little credit.

"Movie's already in the player if you wanna get started. I'll bring it out to you."

[notjustaface]

"Sure thing," he groans, managing out of his chair - he knows better, there's always dessert. The question is, will it be covered in chocolate or sprinkles... or chocolate and sprinkles.

He takes his time clearing their plates to the sink with the unspoken compromise that he who cooks does no dishes - and that dishes can be done in the morning - before heading back to the sofa to settle down into his seat.

"Princess Bride? I haven't seen this in like two decades..."

[notthatcrazy]

"Well then you're way overdue."

He doesn't even ask if he likes it. If he doesn't, there may need to be some rethinking of the relationship.

"And voila! Dessert is served," he says in his best "snooty french chef" voice. The banana dish he presents should look rather familiar, except this time it's caramelized and served over ice cream.

[notjustaface]

Swashbuckling is pretty awesome, and if he remembers right it's pretty funny. Besides, even if he doesn't it's still comfy time.

The smell tips him off first, the unmistakable tang of curry mingling with sweetness. In a bowl on top of ice cream? Nice touch.

"Mmm... That smells amazing."

[notthatcrazy]

"Dig in, there's plenty more where that came from."

He hands him the bowl and spoon and settles in on the couch with his own serving.

[notjustaface]

While he's content to curl up on the end with a foot tucked underneath him, Murdock slams through any semblance of personal space and sits close in the middle. It's always sort of a race to see who ends up gravitating first.

"I remember these... Borneo, right?" He takes a slow bite, letting the flavors mingle on his tongue quite nicely.

[notthatcrazy]

"Mmhmm. Been perfecting it since then."

There's a lot of memories wrapped up in that recipe.

[notjustaface]

Two more quick bites and he's licking his lips even more enthusiastically as the movie draws a decent amount of his attention.

"Mmm, you've really outdone yourself. This is so much better." Of course, it's not served on the beach while lounging in a hammock drinking beer - but it's still delightful.

[notthatcrazy]

Served on the confy sofa by your not-quite-boyfriend is just as good, if not better.

"I used to love this movie when I was younger."

[notjustaface]

Face turns warm eyes toward him again, licking a stray drip of ice cream off his lip.

"I can imagine that."

The easiness is comfortable, no pressure or need to perform. The perfect way to start capping off a decent day.

[notthatcrazy]

The well-worn (and thankfully clean) sock puppet stays in his pocket while he eats, but pretty soon he's putting it on and miming along with the lines

[notjustaface]

He's mostly used to it... As much as one can ever be used to hand puppets that each have distinct personalities - one of which clearly sweet on him in a way he steadfastly refused to analyze. At least it wasn't Percy.

"I'm stuffed..." He sighed, eyeing the last melty curried bite. "Finish this so I don't feel bad." He scoops up the bite, turning sideways enough to press the spoon to Murdock's lips.

Totally normal bro-night behavior.

[notthatcrazy]

"As you wish," he quips - coincidentally just as Cary Elwes says it on screen.

Totally bros.

[notjustaface]

It's a simple, stupid thing that makes his stomach flutter in a way he doesn't know how to control.

He doesn't doubt Murdock means it for far more than a bit of dessert and that worries him enough to pull his attention away from the movie.

Still, he flashes a warm smile and laughs under his breath as he sets aside the bowl and spoon. "Good timing."

[notthatcrazy]

"We do our best."

Is Personal Space Invasion Time Nao.

[notjustaface]

If it were a date, the proper reaction to Murdock's shift closer against him would be an arm around his shoulders and shifting his knee until his hand was on Face's thigh. But, it wasn't a date, and said hand bore a sock with button eyes and a felt mouth he didn't particularly feel comfortable having near his crotch.

"Your best is usually pretty good," he murmurs, cocking his elbow on the back of the couch. "Dinner was really good, man."

[notthatcrazy]

He'll have you know that Lester Sockworth the Fourth is a perfect gentleman.

"Thanks," he says simply.

[notjustaface]

He's still wary and curiously aroused at the thought of a surprise sock-job.

But, the moment passes and the butterflies in his belly are written off as indigestion just as easily as Murdock's closeness is written off for typical disregard for personal space like when he sits in BA's lap.

Slowly, completely on it's own accord, his arm finds it's way down across Murdock's broad shoulders and opens him up to moving even closer.

[notthatcrazy]

He snuggles in closer, sneaking his un-puppeted hand under the hem of Face's borrowed t-shirt.

"Should ask for this back," he teases.