Just Two Guys in Hammock

[notjustaface]

 Things have been going well, each mission the team seems a little closer - hell, they may as well be family... it's not like any of them have anyone else that would go out of their way to take care of them the way they take care of each other.

They're on standby in Borneo awaiting what Hannibal has assured them will be morning deployment working with another team of local boys that are sharing camp - after a few days it's a little more like a frat house on the beach than a half dozen tents and a couple APCs, nice and cozy complete with a campfire that never stops and free flowing local brew that comes in bright blue cans the size of an ankle and leaves behind a bitter aftertaste and substantial buzz after a few.

Relaxed, Face excuses himself from the circle of men around the campfire as Hannibal tells the story about the Venezuelan midgets to the rapt strangers and BA - he gives Murdock, who's hovering between the grill and the coolers, a nod - and then retires to his hammock just off the beach strung between a pair of tall, shaded trees.

He slings himself into the wide netting with a low, comfortable groan and downs the last of his beer before dropping the empty can where he can pick it up later.

"This is livin'..." At least as close to living as it gets when there's no solid roof over your head and the possibility of heavy artillery fire without notice.

Comments

[notjustaface]

Face has never been one to play fair, consciously or not... he plays to win.

His lips stretch into a smile at the wet brush of somewhat less-than-graceful lips against his fingertips, warmed to a soft and unexpected flush.

"Of course I'm right." He replies, lowering his hand but letting it rest on Murdock's chest comfortably.

[notthatcrazy]

"Cocky bastard," he replies fondly as he settles in closer, letting his head rest on Face's shoulder. A soft breeze rustles the trees above them.

"This's nice."

[notjustaface]

"You say that like's a bad thing," he murmurs in reply, the momentary thought of another can of beer warming in the sand passes through his brain but is quickly replaced with the fact that yeah... it's pretty fucking nice.

Peaceful, comfortable. The gentle sway of the hammock under them and solid body curled against him don't exactly hurt. Part of him supposes it should be awkward what with the whole possibility of immanent danger and Murdock being Murdock and not the hot Malaysian officer that was definitely not into him if the knife to his throat the day before was to be believed - but it's not bad at all.

[notthatcrazy]

The thing about questionable sanity is that it's often easy to chase all those pesky details of reality away. He could easily stay like this for the foreseeable future.

"So.. you do this often?"

[notjustaface]

He's more or less used to Murdock's questions by now... but no less puzzled by what they're actually referring to.

"Mmm? Drink beer and lay in a hammock in the rain-forest? I wish..." he chuckles under his breath, wiggling just a little closer to get comfortable. "You know what I do, man."

At least when he's not busy trying to get into trouble... and succeeding.

[notthatcrazy]

He sighs, but welcomes the additional closeness.

"Yeah... that's what I figured."

[notjustaface]

The sigh raises an eyebrow, but he lets it go in favor of plucking another banana bit to savor.

"You got something on your mind?" He finally asks after a drawn silence; "Worried about this mission?"

He's never known Murdock to be worried about anything Hannibal plans - and there's been some pretty insane plans over the years - but he figures there's something up or he wouldn't be so quiet.

[notthatcrazy]

He shakes his head.

"I'm talking about this." He nudges Face gently with his shoulder. "Two guys."

[notjustaface]

Platonic pseudo-cuddling? Not so much... but his buzzed mind takes it a little bit further than that.

Awkwardly, his grin stretches and he picks up another piece of charred banana, holding it up for his friend. "Is that an offer?" He purrs; "Or just curiosity? Because... you know... don't ask, don't tell, man."

He doesn't mean to come off as flirty, but everything about his answer probably answers anything underlying that question.

[notthatcrazy]

"What would you say if it was?"

He's a lot quieter than usual, his typical exuberance toned down as he looks at the man beside him.

[notjustaface]

Maybe it's the beer talking - he'll believe firmly it's the beer talking - but that shy little question is probably the single most adorable thing he's ever heard.

And mostly unexpected. Mostly, as he's always worked under the impression most people have at least a latent attraction to whatever angle he's working. Undermined by the fact that sober he'd know he doesn't work an angle when it's just them.

A little stunned he laughs awkwardly and lowers his eyes, licking his lips before he says; "I'd say that I'm very flattered."

[notthatcrazy]

"But not interested?"

It's somewhere between a question and a statement. It doesn't stop him from leaning against him further.

"It's okay, you can say so. Just between us, right?"

[notjustaface]

His response is part instinct to comfort someone he cares about, part instinct to take advantage of a situation that he thinks might be beneficial to him... and he's not really sure yet at what ratio.

Rolling toward him, letting the plate tip between them and spill burned curried bananas on the ground, he tilts Murdock's chin up to meet his waiting lips without comment.

The warm brush of lips against lips is comment enough in his mind.

Even though he's not really sure if he is or not.

[notthatcrazy]

The surprised noise he makes quickly turns into a pleased sigh as he dares to move in and deepen the kiss, his hand resting on Face's bare chest. After a moment of exploration, he pulls back. There's more than metaphorical swaying going on... a hammock in Borneo probably wasn't the best place to be making this discovery.

"Just so I have a baseline, how drunk are you right now?"

[notjustaface]

He's made it in stranger places...

But even Face has to admit it's not a bad sensation, the scrape of stubble and scent of engine grease that seems to cling to Murdock mingling with curried bananas and the fire down on the beach tickling his mind just as much as the warm stroke of his tongue and the unexpected closeness of the moment.

He's well aware that he wants more, and Murdock has to question it because that's exactly what he'd do.

Five pretty strong drinks in about four hours... and a few more spread out over the course of the day. He'd drive - if he had to - but would prefer to stay right there where they are. "Maybe a four? I didn't kiss you because I'm drunk."

He did it for the same reason he does just about anything.

He wanted to. Wants to. Hell, why not?

"For the record, yeah. I've done it before."

[notthatcrazy]

"Good to know."

He smiles, letting his head rest on Face's shoulder again, awkwardly reaching for his hand.

"Thanks."

Ball's in your court, buddy.

[notjustaface]

And there we go with the balls again...

The brush of fingertips against his hand is almost enough to unnerve him - it's a tender touch, and not what he's used to from the few men he's been tangled up with.

Sliding back into his comfort zone, he nuzzles closer and finds his lips to kiss him again - kissing is easy, natural. Like his lips were simply meant to mapped and tasted and explored. Just as easily, one strong hand slips under the soft rayon of Murdock's open Hawaiian shirt to cup the small of his back and hold him close.

"What about you?" He murmurs against bruised lips, curious himself.

[notthatcrazy]

He's reveling in the closeness, even as the small part of his mind that's remained rational is questioning what the hell they're doing.

"You'd be the first."

Hell, it's not like he's got a lot of experience with women either, but at least there he knows what he's dealing with.

"Always open to a new experience though."

[notjustaface]

He grins against Murdock's lips, nipping gently before kissing him again - even harder than before - the hammock swaying as though to push them even closer.

The first. He likes that... he can admit it, it's probably some macho thing but there's something nice about being the new thing.

The tease. The first.

He murmurs into his open mouth, his palm pushing aside the loose undershirt on Murdock's back to find his warm skin.

[notthatcrazy]

He returns the kiss in kind, determined to give as good as he gets. As nice as it is, being together like this, it feels a little overwhelming.

"You sure?"

The hammock swings again, just the right way, and by the feel of things, yeah, they're pretty sure.

[notjustaface]

Oh sweet fucking Jesus... thinking... thinking causes problems and exposes the serious lack of communication between his body and his brain.

"Uh-huh," he responds automatically, turning the palm that had been pushing upward - exploring the muscles he'd touched before but never with that particular level of thought in it - down toward the waistband of his khaki shorts.

"You?" It's more of a reflexive question than one he actually expects an answer to beyond the dig of arousal against his cargo shorts.

[notthatcrazy]

He inhales sharply.

"Good... think I'm good."

Thinking is clearly a thing they need to stop doing.

[notjustaface]

It's the gasp that does it - the familiar sound of him distinctly getting his way. Even if he's not entirely sure that's what he was going for five minutes ago.

"Good..." he echos, fingers clearing the waistband to find new, unexplored skin to tease.

It's not an electric sizzle, maybe just a slow burn that makes an unexpected knot in his gut with the red flags getting progressively harder to ignore.

[notthatcrazy]

"Mmm... need you..."

He leans against Face's shoulder again, breathing deeply and riding out the rush of new sensation.

[notjustaface]

Penis, meet brain. I believe you two may have met in passing.

Normally, that's a good sigh - a good, strong healthy sign that happy fun time is not only definitely on, but definitely going to a good thing.

Normally it wouldn't include his best friend's breath ragged against his ear and a flush of the rare occurrence of genuine Templeton Peck shame. It's not right. Not like this. Not when he's doing it even in part simply because he can.

He can't hurt Murdock like that.

"You don't..." he whispers, lowering his chin against the top of his friend's head. "Look... we should probably head back to camp before Hannibal comes looking for us."