A Mother's Love - Part Ten
Oct. 5th, 2011 09:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
indigo_angelsAs Murdock unlocked the door to their hotel room, he was pleased and relieved that he’d managed to get Face this far before the dam had broken. He steered his unresponsive friend towards the bed and pushed him down before turning to the mini bar and pouring a shot of bourbon, pushing the plastic glass into Face’s hand as he sat, staring blankly at the wall.
Murdock pulled up a chair and sat in front of Face, leaning in so he could look at his expression and his chest tightened at the utter desolation he saw there. “Face,” he whispered, reaching out his hand and resting it on Face’s knee, “you in there, buddy?”
And Face’s eyes, shining with unshed tears flicked up to his, their red rims tugging at Murdock’s heart. For a second the two men just looked at each other and then Face spoke, his voice a dry whisper over the hum of the air con. “How could he?” was all he said, and as Murdock tried to formulate an appropriate reply, the untouched bourbon slid from his fingers and splashed onto the carpet as the dam finally burst.
_______________________________
Adele let herself into her hotel room and took her shoes off, throwing them across the room in a temper as she starting yanking clothes off as well. She had dressed so carefully for tonight’s meeting, even gone to the trouble of buying herself a new dress, had so wanted to make a good impression. Ever since she had got Hannibal’s phone call that morning she had been in an excited whirl, hoping that all her days of waiting were finally coming to an end. But no, nothing had changed, her damn contrary son had seen to all of that. Adele shook her head as she started taking off her makeup with a cotton wool pad, looking back at the bed with a shiver of frustration.
Well, she certainly wouldn’t be giving up on all of this just yet; she had never expected it to be easy. Danny would come round eventually; no man could resist her charms for long. And John Smith? Oh yes, he would get his day as well. All those nights she had spent fantasising about those big hands of his mapping her body, holding her down and floating her up, wondering if his cock was as magnificent as the rest of him... yes, she was still convinced she could work her magic on him as well. She may have come here for Danny, but she still felt comfortably convinced that she would be leaving with Smith as well.
Later on though, as she slept, she was perturbed to find that her dreams weren’t the lust filled adventures she had been enjoying with John Smith these past few nights, no, they were something else entirely. And as she woke up, jerking awake with the sheets all tangled around her waist, it was Danny’s face she could see in her mind, the wide eyed boy staring at her in shock as she screamed at him in a drunken rage, and the man, with the boy still recognisable in his impossibly blue eyes, standing stock still in the restaurant, devastation etched into every plane of his face.
________________________________
Murdock shifted into a more comfortable position on the bed, making sure he didn’t disturb Face who was sleeping soundly in his arms.
The storm was over, at least for now, but Murdock had been taken aback at how violent it had been, how Face had cried and sobbed, kicked out and hit, tried to leave and tried to shove Murdock out of his way and all that he’d said the whole time, the only sentence that Murdock could make out, was, “How could he?” whispered over and over again until Murdock could have quite happily strangled Hannibal Smith.
Face shifted slightly, murmuring into Murdock’s shoulder and Murdock found his grip tightening on his friend reflexively, dreading the minute when he awoke. He looked at the red figures of the clock blinking across the room, ten past three in the morning and sleep felt about as far away for him as he could possibly imagine.
Face had been sleeping for a little over an hour now, eventually collapsing in sheer emotional exhaustion after the rage that had lasted well over four hours. Four hours... Murdock shuddered at the memories; Face had really scared him, really, really freaked him out. It was like there was nothing of his mild, sweet friend left, he was alternating between this wild, frantic, desperate demon, kicking and spitting and fighting and just trying to run, and a sobbing, pathetic waif, trying to scratch at his own face, his own wrists, gouge remembrances of his pain out of his body. Murdock had never seen anything like it, found himself wondering in the back of his mind if this is what it was like for Face when he had one of his bad spells.
When one a.m had rolled around and things were no calmer, Murdock had become really frightened. Face had stripped down to his underwear, ripping his clothes in his haste to get rid of them, for what precise reason Murdock couldn’t work out. Once he was almost naked, wearing only his shorts, he stood in front of Murdock, who had his back plastered fast against the door, and the pilot could actually see Face’s heart thumping frantically under his skin. At that point he really wished for a sedative, knew that he would jump Face and stick it in his neck himself before his poor heart just gave out under the strain.
Looking at Face’s wild eyes as he stared at the door behind Murdock’s back, Murdock abruptly realised that he was way out of his depth. For a second he thought about phoning for Hannibal, let the old bastard see what he had done, but then he quailed, seriously worrying what the sight of Hannibal would do to Face in this state. So he decided on BA instead, thought he would ask the big guy to bring some knock out juice with him as well, but just as he reached for his phone, Face launched himself at the door and the whole thing started up again.
Eventually, after another two hours, Face had retreated onto the bed, moaning and rocking and holding his head in his hands and ignoring every word and every touch from his friend. Eventually, as desperation gnawed at Murdock’s edges and Face’s heart still pounded, he thought back to a daytime TV show he’d seen once about new born babies and how the contact of their mother’s skin settled them. Without another thought, Murdock slid off the bed and striped down to his briefs before lying full length next to Face’s tightly curled body and holding him, stroking him, slowly, slowly getting him to unfurl.
It took a long time, a lot of patience, but eventually Face was laid out next to him, still heaving and shuddering, but in his arms and on the bed while Murdock soothed and stroked and murmured nonsense and tried to convince himself that Face would survive this.
And that’s where they had stayed. Murdock had almost held his breath as he felt Face’s heart rate slow and the tension in his limbs slowly dissipate, and when he felt those gentle little regular huffs of breath on his neck that told him Face was asleep, well he almost cried with relief.
So, that was the first hurdle over and done with. What terrified Murdock so hard now that he couldn’t sleep himself, was wondering what the hell to do when Face woke up again.
______________________________
The kitchen was dark and silent as Hannibal sat and stared at the door, waiting without much real hope for the sound of an engine and the bright knives of headlamps slicing through the dark. Just like his phone, however, the street outside was silent.
A man is not old until his regrets take the place of his dreams. The old proverb, that brought back memories of Uncle Abe in a nursing home, sprouting what the young John thought were terribly, terribly wise words back then, kept on circling his mind. Was that it now for him? Was he old now? All the dreams he’d had about finding freedom, leading his men safely to the other side of this mine field, finding a corner of the world where he and Face could settle down and have a life together, were they all gone now? Replaced instead with a burning, acrid regret that he had ever let Adele Armando into their lives? No, he corrected himself, that wasn’t it at all. It wasn’t a regret that he had let her in, it was a regret that he had forced her in, despite what Face had said; asked, begged of him. He closed his eyes. He was a fool, such a damn old, fool.
______________________________
Murdock watched as the curtains lightened in the wall, their patterns becoming clearer as tiny specks of light fought their way through. Face was still in his arms, breathing slow and regular, no sign of nightmare or distress and Murdock was eternally grateful to some divine entity for that; he never wanted to go through another night like last night ever again.
Face shifted slightly, turning up onto his hip, pressing his face into the junction of Murdock’s neck and shoulder and Murdock pulled him a bit tighter in, an arm around his shoulder, and arm around his waist, their bodies jammed together, and kissed a bare shoulder, hoping to settle his friend back into sleep. He wondered what the hell to do once they were both awake, wondered if he should involve Hannibal, knew that he would at least have to talk to the boss, let him know the situation and the state Face was in. Murdock knew damn well that at the very least Face being out of it like this was a security risk, and at the worst, well it could be the end of the team as they were. He shuddered at the thought of that.
There was movement in his arms and he stilled, wondering how Face would awaken, but then his heart stuttered uncomfortably as he felt lips on his neck, warm, sure, moist lips trailing a line from his neck to the top of his chest. He swallowed, hard.
“Hey, buddy,” he whispered, pulling back to try and look at Face in the eye, “how are you feeling?”
But Face didn’t answer, he just kept his mouth latched onto Murdock’s skin and upped the ante a little, sending his tongue out to swirl around the hollow of his throat while his hips started up a very gentle rocking action right into Murdock’s groin.
“Hey,” Murdock tried again feeling the blood rushing just as fast to his face as his cock, “It’s me, Facey, HM, you gonna wake up a little for me here?”
Face didn’t reply, his hips kept on rocking, thrusting a very hot and noticeable erection into Murdock’s thigh while his tongue flicked and laved, lips dropping tiny kisses onto the wet skin. Murdock closed his eyes and tried to will his traitorous body to behave, this was the last thing either of them needed right now, or ever for that matter. He loved Face, really and truly from the bottom of his heart, but not like this; it wasn’t even like he wasn’t gay because he was, one hundred percent, never been interested in a woman gay, not like Face, whose sexuality fell into the ‘yes please!’ category, but even so, he wasn’t interested. Could see the attraction, could appreciate the view, but Face was his brother, and making out with your brother... well that was just a bit ew.
But how could he tell that to his body? Which, unfortunately, hadn’t seen any action other than his own hand for months now, and, even more problematic, how could he tell this to said brother-come-best-friend-come-emotionally-overwrought-bedfellow? Particularly as Face was currently grinding his hip bone into Murdock’s rapidly filling cock in an intensely erotic fashion.
Murdock forced himself to focus. “Face,” he whispered, trying to push him back a little, “come on buddy, wake up, it’s Murdock!”
“Murdock?” Face murmured and Murdock sent up a quick prayer of thanks.
“Yeah! It’s me muchacho!”
But Face didn’t stop, instead he let out a noise somewhere like a sob and a moan and latched onto Murdock a little harder, his hands now sliding around and gliding over the smooth material of his briefs. “James,” he breathed, that heartbreaking little sob there again, “please,” and Murdock screwed his eyes closed in attempted denial. “I need this, I need you...”
Murdock shook his head, “Face...”
“Please!” Face implored even harder, the kisses becoming desperate on Murdock’s skin, “I need you!”
“No, you don’t...” Murdock soothed, running his hands through Face’s sweaty hair, “It’s not me you need.”
“Right now it is!” Came the desperate reply, “I need this, I need to come, please don’t make me do it alone, please...”
And there was that sob again and Murdock wondered just what the hell was going on. He’d long suspected that the link between sex and emotion was slightly skewed in Face’s head, knew he would use sex to manipulate, as a physical release, as a means to an end, even just to pass the damn time. But this, this desperate sobbing need that had nothing to do with actual lust and more to do with the inability to cope without the release... Now Murdock was just plain worried.
He was also caught between a rock and a hard place. He knew it wasn’t him as such that Face wanted, it was the body, the heat, the reciprocation, but he feared how Face would take the rejection – he was right on the edge as it was and Murdock could not let him slip back into the state he was in in the middle of the night. He made his decision.
“Come, here,” he whispered, gathering Face as close to him as he could, jutting his hip forward on one side and bracing himself with his other leg, letting Face rut up against him, that sinful mouth licking and sucking and nipping, two large hands rubbing over his ass, massaging and kneading, while he kept his own hands relatively safe, one buried in the mass of tangled curls on the back of Face’s head, one stroking over the wide expanse of smooth back, and waited.
It didn’t take long. Face’s movements became almost frantic and his fingers were clawing at Murdock’s behind and then he stiffened, another sad little sob breaking from his lips as Murdock felt the tell tale flush of wet heat against his hip.
Instantly, Face sagged in his arms, so absolutely that Murdock feared he’d passed out. But then he heard them again, the little sobs, quiet, gentle crying, nothing like the anguished hell from the night before and Murdock just stayed right where he was, stroking and holding and whispering how everything would be alright, that Face would be alright, that this mess could be repaired.
But in the back of his mind, Murdock began to worry that Face was the one who needed the repair.
__________________________________
BA opened his eyes and lay on his back, staring at the ceiling and listening; there wasn’t a sound to be heard and he knew that was bad. He glanced at the clock, seven fifteen am and knew that ordinarily, people would be up, Hannibal who was up early most mornings unless he and Face were ‘busy’, Face who was either up at the crack of dawn or would sleep in until lunch, Murdock who seemed to sleep odd hours but would generally have everyone’s breakfast made well before eight am, but there was nothing, not a voice, or a radio, a clattered dish or a slammed door. Nothing.
He sighed and climbed out of bed.
Ten minutes later, while the house still did it’s best to act like a morgue, he walked down the stairs and almost jumped out of his skin when he saw Hannibal sitting on a kitchen chair, still wearing his suit from the previous night and obviously without a wink of sleep.
BA sighed as he opened the fridge and took the OJ out. “You been here all night?” he asked, looking at the almost untouched whiskey at his side.
“Yeah,” Hannibal replied, his voice dry and hoarse.
“No word?”
“No.”
BA slid into the other chair. “You need to get some shut eye, man,” he reached out and placed his hand gently on Hannibal’s wrinkled suit. “I’ll hold the fort here.”
But Hannibal just shook his head, “No, I’ll wait, thanks.”
BA watched for another couple of minutes and then got to his feet, sighing and started putting some breakfast together. Fool might not want to sleep; the least that BA could do was make him eat.
Next
Murdock pulled up a chair and sat in front of Face, leaning in so he could look at his expression and his chest tightened at the utter desolation he saw there. “Face,” he whispered, reaching out his hand and resting it on Face’s knee, “you in there, buddy?”
And Face’s eyes, shining with unshed tears flicked up to his, their red rims tugging at Murdock’s heart. For a second the two men just looked at each other and then Face spoke, his voice a dry whisper over the hum of the air con. “How could he?” was all he said, and as Murdock tried to formulate an appropriate reply, the untouched bourbon slid from his fingers and splashed onto the carpet as the dam finally burst.
_______________________________
Adele let herself into her hotel room and took her shoes off, throwing them across the room in a temper as she starting yanking clothes off as well. She had dressed so carefully for tonight’s meeting, even gone to the trouble of buying herself a new dress, had so wanted to make a good impression. Ever since she had got Hannibal’s phone call that morning she had been in an excited whirl, hoping that all her days of waiting were finally coming to an end. But no, nothing had changed, her damn contrary son had seen to all of that. Adele shook her head as she started taking off her makeup with a cotton wool pad, looking back at the bed with a shiver of frustration.
Well, she certainly wouldn’t be giving up on all of this just yet; she had never expected it to be easy. Danny would come round eventually; no man could resist her charms for long. And John Smith? Oh yes, he would get his day as well. All those nights she had spent fantasising about those big hands of his mapping her body, holding her down and floating her up, wondering if his cock was as magnificent as the rest of him... yes, she was still convinced she could work her magic on him as well. She may have come here for Danny, but she still felt comfortably convinced that she would be leaving with Smith as well.
Later on though, as she slept, she was perturbed to find that her dreams weren’t the lust filled adventures she had been enjoying with John Smith these past few nights, no, they were something else entirely. And as she woke up, jerking awake with the sheets all tangled around her waist, it was Danny’s face she could see in her mind, the wide eyed boy staring at her in shock as she screamed at him in a drunken rage, and the man, with the boy still recognisable in his impossibly blue eyes, standing stock still in the restaurant, devastation etched into every plane of his face.
________________________________
Murdock shifted into a more comfortable position on the bed, making sure he didn’t disturb Face who was sleeping soundly in his arms.
The storm was over, at least for now, but Murdock had been taken aback at how violent it had been, how Face had cried and sobbed, kicked out and hit, tried to leave and tried to shove Murdock out of his way and all that he’d said the whole time, the only sentence that Murdock could make out, was, “How could he?” whispered over and over again until Murdock could have quite happily strangled Hannibal Smith.
Face shifted slightly, murmuring into Murdock’s shoulder and Murdock found his grip tightening on his friend reflexively, dreading the minute when he awoke. He looked at the red figures of the clock blinking across the room, ten past three in the morning and sleep felt about as far away for him as he could possibly imagine.
Face had been sleeping for a little over an hour now, eventually collapsing in sheer emotional exhaustion after the rage that had lasted well over four hours. Four hours... Murdock shuddered at the memories; Face had really scared him, really, really freaked him out. It was like there was nothing of his mild, sweet friend left, he was alternating between this wild, frantic, desperate demon, kicking and spitting and fighting and just trying to run, and a sobbing, pathetic waif, trying to scratch at his own face, his own wrists, gouge remembrances of his pain out of his body. Murdock had never seen anything like it, found himself wondering in the back of his mind if this is what it was like for Face when he had one of his bad spells.
When one a.m had rolled around and things were no calmer, Murdock had become really frightened. Face had stripped down to his underwear, ripping his clothes in his haste to get rid of them, for what precise reason Murdock couldn’t work out. Once he was almost naked, wearing only his shorts, he stood in front of Murdock, who had his back plastered fast against the door, and the pilot could actually see Face’s heart thumping frantically under his skin. At that point he really wished for a sedative, knew that he would jump Face and stick it in his neck himself before his poor heart just gave out under the strain.
Looking at Face’s wild eyes as he stared at the door behind Murdock’s back, Murdock abruptly realised that he was way out of his depth. For a second he thought about phoning for Hannibal, let the old bastard see what he had done, but then he quailed, seriously worrying what the sight of Hannibal would do to Face in this state. So he decided on BA instead, thought he would ask the big guy to bring some knock out juice with him as well, but just as he reached for his phone, Face launched himself at the door and the whole thing started up again.
Eventually, after another two hours, Face had retreated onto the bed, moaning and rocking and holding his head in his hands and ignoring every word and every touch from his friend. Eventually, as desperation gnawed at Murdock’s edges and Face’s heart still pounded, he thought back to a daytime TV show he’d seen once about new born babies and how the contact of their mother’s skin settled them. Without another thought, Murdock slid off the bed and striped down to his briefs before lying full length next to Face’s tightly curled body and holding him, stroking him, slowly, slowly getting him to unfurl.
It took a long time, a lot of patience, but eventually Face was laid out next to him, still heaving and shuddering, but in his arms and on the bed while Murdock soothed and stroked and murmured nonsense and tried to convince himself that Face would survive this.
And that’s where they had stayed. Murdock had almost held his breath as he felt Face’s heart rate slow and the tension in his limbs slowly dissipate, and when he felt those gentle little regular huffs of breath on his neck that told him Face was asleep, well he almost cried with relief.
So, that was the first hurdle over and done with. What terrified Murdock so hard now that he couldn’t sleep himself, was wondering what the hell to do when Face woke up again.
______________________________
The kitchen was dark and silent as Hannibal sat and stared at the door, waiting without much real hope for the sound of an engine and the bright knives of headlamps slicing through the dark. Just like his phone, however, the street outside was silent.
A man is not old until his regrets take the place of his dreams. The old proverb, that brought back memories of Uncle Abe in a nursing home, sprouting what the young John thought were terribly, terribly wise words back then, kept on circling his mind. Was that it now for him? Was he old now? All the dreams he’d had about finding freedom, leading his men safely to the other side of this mine field, finding a corner of the world where he and Face could settle down and have a life together, were they all gone now? Replaced instead with a burning, acrid regret that he had ever let Adele Armando into their lives? No, he corrected himself, that wasn’t it at all. It wasn’t a regret that he had let her in, it was a regret that he had forced her in, despite what Face had said; asked, begged of him. He closed his eyes. He was a fool, such a damn old, fool.
______________________________
Murdock watched as the curtains lightened in the wall, their patterns becoming clearer as tiny specks of light fought their way through. Face was still in his arms, breathing slow and regular, no sign of nightmare or distress and Murdock was eternally grateful to some divine entity for that; he never wanted to go through another night like last night ever again.
Face shifted slightly, turning up onto his hip, pressing his face into the junction of Murdock’s neck and shoulder and Murdock pulled him a bit tighter in, an arm around his shoulder, and arm around his waist, their bodies jammed together, and kissed a bare shoulder, hoping to settle his friend back into sleep. He wondered what the hell to do once they were both awake, wondered if he should involve Hannibal, knew that he would at least have to talk to the boss, let him know the situation and the state Face was in. Murdock knew damn well that at the very least Face being out of it like this was a security risk, and at the worst, well it could be the end of the team as they were. He shuddered at the thought of that.
There was movement in his arms and he stilled, wondering how Face would awaken, but then his heart stuttered uncomfortably as he felt lips on his neck, warm, sure, moist lips trailing a line from his neck to the top of his chest. He swallowed, hard.
“Hey, buddy,” he whispered, pulling back to try and look at Face in the eye, “how are you feeling?”
But Face didn’t answer, he just kept his mouth latched onto Murdock’s skin and upped the ante a little, sending his tongue out to swirl around the hollow of his throat while his hips started up a very gentle rocking action right into Murdock’s groin.
“Hey,” Murdock tried again feeling the blood rushing just as fast to his face as his cock, “It’s me, Facey, HM, you gonna wake up a little for me here?”
Face didn’t reply, his hips kept on rocking, thrusting a very hot and noticeable erection into Murdock’s thigh while his tongue flicked and laved, lips dropping tiny kisses onto the wet skin. Murdock closed his eyes and tried to will his traitorous body to behave, this was the last thing either of them needed right now, or ever for that matter. He loved Face, really and truly from the bottom of his heart, but not like this; it wasn’t even like he wasn’t gay because he was, one hundred percent, never been interested in a woman gay, not like Face, whose sexuality fell into the ‘yes please!’ category, but even so, he wasn’t interested. Could see the attraction, could appreciate the view, but Face was his brother, and making out with your brother... well that was just a bit ew.
But how could he tell that to his body? Which, unfortunately, hadn’t seen any action other than his own hand for months now, and, even more problematic, how could he tell this to said brother-come-best-friend-come-emotionally-overwrought-bedfellow? Particularly as Face was currently grinding his hip bone into Murdock’s rapidly filling cock in an intensely erotic fashion.
Murdock forced himself to focus. “Face,” he whispered, trying to push him back a little, “come on buddy, wake up, it’s Murdock!”
“Murdock?” Face murmured and Murdock sent up a quick prayer of thanks.
“Yeah! It’s me muchacho!”
But Face didn’t stop, instead he let out a noise somewhere like a sob and a moan and latched onto Murdock a little harder, his hands now sliding around and gliding over the smooth material of his briefs. “James,” he breathed, that heartbreaking little sob there again, “please,” and Murdock screwed his eyes closed in attempted denial. “I need this, I need you...”
Murdock shook his head, “Face...”
“Please!” Face implored even harder, the kisses becoming desperate on Murdock’s skin, “I need you!”
“No, you don’t...” Murdock soothed, running his hands through Face’s sweaty hair, “It’s not me you need.”
“Right now it is!” Came the desperate reply, “I need this, I need to come, please don’t make me do it alone, please...”
And there was that sob again and Murdock wondered just what the hell was going on. He’d long suspected that the link between sex and emotion was slightly skewed in Face’s head, knew he would use sex to manipulate, as a physical release, as a means to an end, even just to pass the damn time. But this, this desperate sobbing need that had nothing to do with actual lust and more to do with the inability to cope without the release... Now Murdock was just plain worried.
He was also caught between a rock and a hard place. He knew it wasn’t him as such that Face wanted, it was the body, the heat, the reciprocation, but he feared how Face would take the rejection – he was right on the edge as it was and Murdock could not let him slip back into the state he was in in the middle of the night. He made his decision.
“Come, here,” he whispered, gathering Face as close to him as he could, jutting his hip forward on one side and bracing himself with his other leg, letting Face rut up against him, that sinful mouth licking and sucking and nipping, two large hands rubbing over his ass, massaging and kneading, while he kept his own hands relatively safe, one buried in the mass of tangled curls on the back of Face’s head, one stroking over the wide expanse of smooth back, and waited.
It didn’t take long. Face’s movements became almost frantic and his fingers were clawing at Murdock’s behind and then he stiffened, another sad little sob breaking from his lips as Murdock felt the tell tale flush of wet heat against his hip.
Instantly, Face sagged in his arms, so absolutely that Murdock feared he’d passed out. But then he heard them again, the little sobs, quiet, gentle crying, nothing like the anguished hell from the night before and Murdock just stayed right where he was, stroking and holding and whispering how everything would be alright, that Face would be alright, that this mess could be repaired.
But in the back of his mind, Murdock began to worry that Face was the one who needed the repair.
__________________________________
BA opened his eyes and lay on his back, staring at the ceiling and listening; there wasn’t a sound to be heard and he knew that was bad. He glanced at the clock, seven fifteen am and knew that ordinarily, people would be up, Hannibal who was up early most mornings unless he and Face were ‘busy’, Face who was either up at the crack of dawn or would sleep in until lunch, Murdock who seemed to sleep odd hours but would generally have everyone’s breakfast made well before eight am, but there was nothing, not a voice, or a radio, a clattered dish or a slammed door. Nothing.
He sighed and climbed out of bed.
Ten minutes later, while the house still did it’s best to act like a morgue, he walked down the stairs and almost jumped out of his skin when he saw Hannibal sitting on a kitchen chair, still wearing his suit from the previous night and obviously without a wink of sleep.
BA sighed as he opened the fridge and took the OJ out. “You been here all night?” he asked, looking at the almost untouched whiskey at his side.
“Yeah,” Hannibal replied, his voice dry and hoarse.
“No word?”
“No.”
BA slid into the other chair. “You need to get some shut eye, man,” he reached out and placed his hand gently on Hannibal’s wrinkled suit. “I’ll hold the fort here.”
But Hannibal just shook his head, “No, I’ll wait, thanks.”
BA watched for another couple of minutes and then got to his feet, sighing and started putting some breakfast together. Fool might not want to sleep; the least that BA could do was make him eat.
Next
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-10-06 02:31 am (UTC)I love the thought of the house intimating a morgue and B.A. making a sleep deprived Hannibal a snack. Hannibal should feel like the bad guy after what he did, he knew Face’s wishes but carried on anyways. I am really nixed at Hannibal for putting Face and in turn Murdock in that position.
no subject
Date: 2011-10-08 09:53 pm (UTC)Some people have been...
But no, he was trying to soothe, which you picked up, so that's great! :)
no subject
Date: 2011-10-08 10:43 pm (UTC)