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Bourbon Brewings

Author: Quentillian


Rating: PG 13

Summary: Face's thoughts after a close run in with Decker.

Comments of any sort are always welcome.



Face sat down in a comfortable lawn chair on his deck. It overlooked the city, the view of the night lights were breathtaking. At least he'd been told by a few ladies. He didn't really care. He didn't have a woman with him tonight. Instead, he nursed a glass of bourbon and stared into nothing. The bourbon eased the pain in his ribs.

It wasn't often that he escaped the wrath of an enraged husband because Decker busted the door down. Face didn't startle as easily as Terri's husband did. In fact, some might even say Face reacted like this was old hat.

He was on his knees, milking the `gasping for air' recovery from a blow to his ribs. Suddenly the door was flung open, orders were being shouted, and rifles pointed. Face didn't miss a beat. He rolled behind the couch, grabbed a lamp off of the coffee table, and threw it into the fray. It hit someone, he didn't look back to see who. Instead, he bolted back into the bedroom and out the
French doors.

He took another burning sip of bourbon. No one had chased after him. He could only speculate as to what the hang up was inside the house. He didn't particularly care to put much thought into that.

Some more bourbon and the pain was gone. He knew nothing was broken, but he'd be uncomfortable for a few days. The trick was to avoid the guys. He didn't want another lecture from Hannibal. Murdock would want details, and wouldn't rest until he got them. Despite the fact that things had been interrupted before any clothing had come off. Well, unless jackets counted. Or zippers being undone, but the dress hadn't come off yet. Neither had his pants, which
wasn't a bad thing in the end.

BA would just scowl disapprovingly. Maybe that's what bothered him the most. But, hell, what was he supposed to do? Stay celibate until they got cleared? Fat chance. Face downed the rest of the bourbon.

There was a list of things that Face was never going to get to do. Have a career. Get married. Buy a house. Get junk mail. Drive a car that was registered under Templeton Peck. The list went on. That list would never change. Not if he spent the rest of his life in prison. Not if he spent it on the run.

No one would ever be able to say that he didn't enjoy life to the fullest though. He dined in the best restaurants. Wore the best clothes made. And wooed the most beautiful women that walked the planet.

Face treated every woman as though she was the last one he was going to be with before a prison door slammed in his face. And in the back of his mind, he knew it was just a matter of time before it was true.

Face stood up, looking at the empty bourbon glass. BA didn't have a clue how much Face loved those women. He hurled the glass into the night as far as could. He heard it shatter in the distance. Fuck BA and his judgmental eyes.



Bourbon Brewings by Quentillian



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