a team slash fic - Leave the light on
So I got this idea listening to Tori Amos and reading Purrs wonderful fill - the idea of Face being down because of what he has to do and not thinking anyone takes the emotional cost seriously. F/M of course :)
- - -
Sticky lips are on his, the strange cosmetic tang that has started to set his teeth on edge. Overly rouged cheeks are blushing a deeper shade as an ample cleavage is pressed against him. He keeps up the facade, smoothing his hands through over-styled curls, the floral perume making his head spin in a far more unpleasant way than it used to. He longs for the harder kiss, the long and dextrous fingers running through his hair, the lithe body in his arms and the smell of gunpowder and something undeniably male and... Murdock. Instead he plays the game, the woman putty in his hands. He fulfills his obligations to Hannibal. He has the information he needs, and he is more relieved than he can say when the woman recieves a phone call that her husband is on the way home and does she want him to bring anything on his way? Face plays the regret game as he leaves, and when he reaches the 'vette he leans against it, and takes a breath. He wipes his hand across his mouth with the back of his hand in an unconcious gesture, and gets into the drivers seat and puts his head in his hands.
He wishes Hannibal knew what this cost him. Not just the feeling that he is betraying Murdock everytime he has to seduce a woman for a con, the way those soft brown eyes look at him with love and understanding and forgiveness he feels he doesn't deserve; or the way he feels he is betraying himself. His sense of who he is. He feels used, unclean. He wants to have a shower and wash away the floral perfume and the feelings of guilt.
With a sigh, he puts the 'vette into gear and drives to their latest scammed home, another result of his exploits. He thinks about coming home to the rest of the guys asleep, warm and safe. He thinks about fumbling for his key in the dark, trying to find the keyhole in the night. Undressing in the dark so as not to disturb anyone, tip-toeing through the house. As if he had something to hide. He reaches the house before he realises, so lost he is in his own thoughts. For a moment he thinks he has driven to the wrong house. There, under the porch, is the warm, welcoming light, waiting just for him. 'Murdock' he thinks fondly, and a small smile is on his face.
He unlocks the door and closes it quietly behind him, hanging his jacket on the hook by the door. He sees a soft lamp on in the kitchen, and sighs contentedly as he sees a cup waiting for him, water in the kettle and his favourite chamomile tea sitting in the bag in the cup. He makes his tea and carries it through to the room he shares with murdock, turning off the lamp as he goes. Murdock has left the light on in the ensuite bathroom, and he sits the cup on the bedside table as he cleans himself up in the bathroom, brushes his teeth and gets ready for bed.
He slips into the bed, finishing his cup of tea, looking down at Murdock who shifts in his sleep. He traces the features of his face with his eyes, the impossibly long eyelashes that brush his cheeks, his cheekbones, the way his hair falls on the pillow. He looks around the room, thinks of the porchlight, the tea waiting for him, the light on in the bathroom. He finds himself blinking rapidly. Setting the cup down, he leans over and brushes a kiss over Murdocks lips - the lips his wanted on his own all evening. "You make it all worth it, buddy" he whispers, and tucks himself in beside his lover. Murdocks stirs, still half in sleep. "You back Facey? Missed you baby. Love you" he says, his voice slurred by sleep, and he wraps his warm body around Face, legs entwining and tucking Face's head into the crook of his neck. "Love you too Buddy" Face whispers as he feels himself fall into sleep.
FIN.
- - -
Sticky lips are on his, the strange cosmetic tang that has started to set his teeth on edge. Overly rouged cheeks are blushing a deeper shade as an ample cleavage is pressed against him. He keeps up the facade, smoothing his hands through over-styled curls, the floral perume making his head spin in a far more unpleasant way than it used to. He longs for the harder kiss, the long and dextrous fingers running through his hair, the lithe body in his arms and the smell of gunpowder and something undeniably male and... Murdock. Instead he plays the game, the woman putty in his hands. He fulfills his obligations to Hannibal. He has the information he needs, and he is more relieved than he can say when the woman recieves a phone call that her husband is on the way home and does she want him to bring anything on his way? Face plays the regret game as he leaves, and when he reaches the 'vette he leans against it, and takes a breath. He wipes his hand across his mouth with the back of his hand in an unconcious gesture, and gets into the drivers seat and puts his head in his hands.
He wishes Hannibal knew what this cost him. Not just the feeling that he is betraying Murdock everytime he has to seduce a woman for a con, the way those soft brown eyes look at him with love and understanding and forgiveness he feels he doesn't deserve; or the way he feels he is betraying himself. His sense of who he is. He feels used, unclean. He wants to have a shower and wash away the floral perfume and the feelings of guilt.
With a sigh, he puts the 'vette into gear and drives to their latest scammed home, another result of his exploits. He thinks about coming home to the rest of the guys asleep, warm and safe. He thinks about fumbling for his key in the dark, trying to find the keyhole in the night. Undressing in the dark so as not to disturb anyone, tip-toeing through the house. As if he had something to hide. He reaches the house before he realises, so lost he is in his own thoughts. For a moment he thinks he has driven to the wrong house. There, under the porch, is the warm, welcoming light, waiting just for him. 'Murdock' he thinks fondly, and a small smile is on his face.
He unlocks the door and closes it quietly behind him, hanging his jacket on the hook by the door. He sees a soft lamp on in the kitchen, and sighs contentedly as he sees a cup waiting for him, water in the kettle and his favourite chamomile tea sitting in the bag in the cup. He makes his tea and carries it through to the room he shares with murdock, turning off the lamp as he goes. Murdock has left the light on in the ensuite bathroom, and he sits the cup on the bedside table as he cleans himself up in the bathroom, brushes his teeth and gets ready for bed.
He slips into the bed, finishing his cup of tea, looking down at Murdock who shifts in his sleep. He traces the features of his face with his eyes, the impossibly long eyelashes that brush his cheeks, his cheekbones, the way his hair falls on the pillow. He looks around the room, thinks of the porchlight, the tea waiting for him, the light on in the bathroom. He finds himself blinking rapidly. Setting the cup down, he leans over and brushes a kiss over Murdocks lips - the lips his wanted on his own all evening. "You make it all worth it, buddy" he whispers, and tucks himself in beside his lover. Murdocks stirs, still half in sleep. "You back Facey? Missed you baby. Love you" he says, his voice slurred by sleep, and he wraps his warm body around Face, legs entwining and tucking Face's head into the crook of his neck. "Love you too Buddy" Face whispers as he feels himself fall into sleep.
FIN.