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This page last viewed: 2017-08-15 and has been viewed 5084 times
Crazy Fool Love
Rated: PG-13 Light m/m slash (Face/Murdock)(no sex), injured
Warning: M/M slash, injured character.
Summary: When Face is injured, BA has his hands full taking
care of both him and Murdock.
Crazy Fool Love
BA shoved his way through the door to the little hotel cabin. Hannibal moved in behind him and pulled down the sheets on one of the narrow beds. BA laid Face's still, bloody form down, then sat beside him and immediately began putting pressure on the knife wound in Face's side again.
The two men stared down at Face for a moment.
His cheeks were pale. A large, livid black bruise marred the skin on his upper arm. The neat, expensive slacks and dress shirt were dirty and streaked with dark red blood.
Murdock hurried through the door, carrying an armload of his old, worn t-shirts. He stumbled as he reached the bedside and Hannibal caught hold of his arm.
"Steady there, Captain."
Murdock began ripping the t-shirts into bandages, then laying the long, narrow pieces of cloth in a pile near Face's feet, but within BA's reach. He stared at Face intently, and missed the look that passed between Hannibal and BA over his head.
BA nodded. When you've been together a long time, you don't need words so much.
Murdock jumped up from the bed and disappeared into the bathroom.
Hannibal leaned over and spoke softly to BA. "You be okay until I get back?"
Hannibal stared into his eyes for a moment, then nodded and clapped him on the shoulder.
He moved, as if toward the door, then leaned over the bed suddenly. BA heard him say, "Hang in there, kid," very quietly in Face's ear. Then he stood up.
Murdock came out of the bathroom with a damp washcloth. He moved with a sort of manic, charged energy that was very different than his usual exuberance. "Colonel?"
"I'm going to get supplies, Murdock. I want you to stay here and help BA."
"Okey dokey, roger, ten four, Hannibal," Murdock muttered. He moved over to the bed, then swerved away and flicked on the overhead light. It was daytime, but the clouds outside only let a murky gray light into the small room. He came back and set the cloth on the nightstand. He started ripping his t-shirts into pieces again.
"He's going to be fine, Murdock," Hannibal said firmly.
Murdock turned pained, frightened eyes up toward Hannibal, then shuttered them somehow. Bit his lip and turned away.
Hannibal sighed and walked out the door.
BA heard the van start up outside, and then the cabin was silent; just breathing and the ripping of old cloth. He looked at Murdock.
The fool was beside himself this time. But BA guessed they should've expected it. The first time one or the other of them were hurt bad, now that they were together again. Still in that lovey dovey early time, now mean ol' real life had to come knock Žem in the teeth.
"Maybe I don't love him," Murdock said, abruptly.
"Hmmmpph." BA rolled his eyes. Made sure the pressure he was putting on Face's side was still even and steady.
"Maybe I just love him a little bit," Murdock said, a little louder now. He ran his fingers down Face's arm, pausing a moment at the dark bruise. "Maybe he's just a forty-seven night stand to me."
"You couldn't do nuthin' halfway if you tried, fool. Ain't built thet way," BA replied.
"I'm halfway crazy." Murdock picked up Face's wrist, as if to take his pulse, then just lifted the limp hand to his heart and held it there.
"You all crazy. An' you all in love wi' him. Look at you. Cain't keep yo' fool hands off Žim."
Murdock set Face's hand down quickly and turned away. He picked up another t-shirt and began tearing it into strips. He stared sightlessly at the back of the cabin. The ripping sound was very loud.
"Every time I touch him could be the last time." Murdock dropped the strips of cloth in his lap. BA couldn't see his face. He sighed.
"You got a crazy fool love in you, Murdock. Ain't nuthin' wrong wi' that. But you cain't get away from it neither." BA took a few more ragged patches of cloth and pressed them to Face's side. His left hand was bloody where the wound had bled through.
Little rivulets of sweat dripped down from Face's forehead. BA reached for the damp cloth, but Murdock plucked it from his hand and began easing it gently across Face's brow. He wiped his own face on the sleeve of his shirt.
"'member thet place we stopped at, gamblin' place, in Nevada?" BA asked, suddenly.
"Everybody dressed like Treasure Island. I made Facey buy me an eye patch and hook." Murdock frowned. "But you threw my hook in the lake on the way home."
"Shet up, fool. Shoulda thrown you in thet lake. Tryin' to say somethin' here."
Murdock pressed the inside of his wrist against Face's temple, frowned, and wiped his forehead carefully with the damp cloth again. "Is Hannibal bringing ice?"
"He'll git it." BA lifted his own hand to Face's forehead, then smoothed Face's hair gently. He was warm, but not too warm yet. The bleeding was the problem. He could feel the warm, sticky moisture reaching up through the thin cotton bandages for his hand. He put some more material on Face's side, then pressed down harder. He sighed, softly. Putting people back together wasn't his best thing. He glanced up at Murdock and sighed again.
"We each took two hundred. To bet with. Faceman kep' tryin' ta get us ta go in wi' him on some crazy system he got off a guy in the bar. Hannibal had some plan Žbout diversifyin' his interests Žtween the poker table an' the baccarat. An' what did you do?"
Murdock looked up at BA through long, dark lashes, his face uncharacteristically still and serious. "Put it all on red number seven."
"Facey and' Hannibal just about killed me when I was all done in five minutes. Wouldn't buy me a hot dog or nuthin'."
Murdock reached over and stroked Face's cheek with the back of his hand. A tear slid down his nose and dropped onto the bedclothes. "BA?"
"I lost my socks at that place. I lost everything."
"But thet's the only way you'd evah think Žbout playin'. Jus' like Hannibal an' Faceman. It's jus' your way."
"I don't÷" Murdock started. "I don't think I could bear÷" He turned away again. Then stood up suddenly. "I've got some more t-shirts in my suitcase in the other cabin." He fled.
BA rubbed his face with his free hand. He hated talking stuff. It always got messed up. He sucked in his breath when he saw Face's large blue eyes gazing up at him.
"Don't let him rip up his Woody Woodpecker shirt." Face's voice was hoarse and soft. "It's his favorite. And I ate Wheatie Oh's for six months collecting enough box tops to get it."
Face started to cough, and BA held his shoulder tightly while he did, then lowered his head back down onto the pillow.
BA nodded. "'cept you."
Face closed his eyes a minute. "He's just scared, that's all."
BA watched him. How long had he been playing possum?
"It isn't easy to lose everything," Face said, his eyes still closed. "Then risk it all over again."
Face was silent a moment. But he smiled just a little when BA put his hand on his cheek. He wrapped his own graceful fingers around BA's for a moment, holding his hand there.
"Take care of him for me? Please?" Face's voice was tinged, now, with pain, like it had all started to hit him, all of a sudden.
"An' who's gonna take care o' you, little brotha?"
Face shook his head. "Take care of him."
BA patted Face's shoulder reassuringly. "You know ah will. Best I can, anyhow. Fool."
BA felt a little of the tension ease from the muscles beneath his hand.
"You take care of all of us, BA," Face murmured softly. "Good care."
Face sighed back into sleep. His hand dropped to the pillow, and BA, smiling a little, laid it to his side once again.
Murdock shoved through the cabin door with an armload of clothes. He seemed calmer. More together. More himself.
BA watched as Murdock dropped the clothes on the table by the bed, then went over to Face.
Murdock leaned over Face for a moment, staring at the gracefully mussed, honey-colored hair, the eyes, closed in heavy sleep now, the curve of cheek, the soft lips. Then he pressed his own lips firmly against Face's. Gently. Like he was the fairy prince in a story and he'd just ridden up on his white airplane.
"I love you," he said seriously, his lips still hovering over Face's lips, breath close. "I love you. I love you. I love you."
He looked disappointed when Face didn't wake. It always worked in stories. But he settled back onto the bed beside him. Maybe it just took the magic a little longer nowadays.
BA watched silently. If anybody deserved some real, true love it was Faceman. And if anyone in the whole world had true love to give, it was Crazyman. Crazy fool love, maybe, but no half way about it.
He breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the distinctive purr of his van outside. Hannibal was back. He could take over taking care of everybody. He'd have bandages, real bandages, some ice for the fever, antibiotics. A plan. Face'd be okay. They'd all be okay.
Murdock began ripping again, and BA suddenly realized that he'd failed to save the Woody Woodpecker shirt. The cocky bird stared up at him from a small, worn scrap of cloth.
A laugh escaped BA's lips, and he stifled it quickly. Faceman would have to live now, he thought. He had to eat some more Wheatie Oh's. Maybe the relief of having Hannibal back was making him giddy.
Murdock was looking at BA strangely. Then he cocked his head.
"Hey big guy, what did you do with your two hundred dollars? Back at that place?"
BA smiled and set his free hand on Murdock's shoulder. "Ah wen' next door an' bought mahself a new set of socket wrenches. Ah ain' no fool."
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