Chapter Text
“Book 'em, Danno.”
“What? That doesn't even make sense in this situation!” Danny Williams bristled, hands on hips as he stared his partner down.
Fighting a smirk, Steve Mcgarrett picked up the box of donuts and angled his head towards the cashier. “Just pay the girl, Danny.”
“Seriously, Mcgarrett, you're going to have to stop using that phrase.” The look Danny shot Steve had been known to make even the most hardened of criminals rethink their entire history of poor life choices, but the taller man couldn't help but think his partner was somewhat...adorable, all mad and fun-sized, as he was. He couldn't help but goad him.
“Whatever you say, Danno.” as Danny drew himself up, eyes narrowed, ready to cause a scene, Steve decided maybe now wasn't the time to be doing this, and moved to cut the oncoming tirade off before it could even get started. “You know, the longer we take getting these donuts, the longer Kono's going to be with Gracie. Alone. On the beach. With a child-sized surfboard.”
The blonde visibly deflated, taking out his wallet and handing over the exact amount of change with a sigh. Turning on his heel, he then gestured impatiently towards the door, “Come on, then, babe. What're you waiting for?”
Steve turned to the check out girl with an apologetic grin and handed her a small tip to make up for the, what he knew must be, apparent rudeness of the other man, before following him out the door. As Danny stalked purposefully towards the Camaro, Steve allowed himself a wan smile. The first time Danny had called him “babe,” he'd nearly had a heart attack, and had spent the next three days trying to find hidden meaning in everything the easily incensed man said and did. Now, though, Steve was pretty sure Danny wasn't even aware of what he was doing.
But that's okay, Steve thought, sliding into the driver's seat of Danny's car. Danny slid in next to him, closing the door and reaching over to take the little pink box from Steve. He didn't even say anything about the ex-SEAL once again commandeering his beloved vehicle. I can wait.
~~~~~
Murdock sat restlessly at the makeshift desk of his makeshift office in the makeshift headquarters, in the very real abandoned warehouse somewhere in, near, or around Baja California. He was going over the plan, again, fingering the vial of sedative he was supposed to be using on BA. They were going to Hawaii, tomorrow- apparently, Face owed some obscure cousin a favor, or something, and they had to fly out A-S-A-P.
Murdock was excited about getting to fly again; it had been a while, as most of their cases had either been local, or didn't require a plan elaborate enough to involve any sort of flying vehicle. Not even a little crop duster. Not even a remote control helicopter with mini heat-seeking missiles (Murdock had tried like hell to get Hannibal to let him have one- just to play with).
He was itchin' to be in the air again.
Murdock was not excited about having to knock BA out. Again. It always left a bad taste in his mouth, though the big man was usually all too happy to forgive him in exchange for some of his favorite food. And, Murdock had to admit, he was more than willing to cook for the temperamental man. Not that he was crazy enough to admit it out loud. Oh no, Hannibal and Face made him the butt of enough of their jokes without giving them that particular ammunition.
Whatever that was.
Setting the vial down with an audible thunk, Murdock rested his elbows on the table, cradling his head in his hands. Maybe he should just make the curry topenade and toast points before the flight, and slip some sedative into that. With the proper amount, BA wouldn't even wake up until they'd landed in the islands.
Everyone'd be happy, right?
Except, no- he was tired of feeling sneaky and underhanded towards someone he- well, towards his own teammate. And it didn't help that BA had to be anticipating it. He had to know there was no way they'd be taking a ship, no matter what the colonel may have “hinted at” during the briefing. So, just...
Ugh.
“What's got you in such a state, Murdock?” the unbalanced pilot looked up to see the black man, currently taking up so much of his mind, leaning casually against the open doorway, heavily muscled arms folded neatly across his chest.
“Nothing you'd want any part in, B.A.” Pasting on his patented “batshit crazy” grin, Murdock went about shuffling imaginary stacks of paper while surreptitiously palming the sedative and slipping it into his breast pocket.
“Don't be a fool, Murdock. Something's bothering you. Spit it out.”
The pilot began opening and closing the empty drawers of his crappy desk as though searching for something, not meeting the other man's eyes. “Don't know what you're talking about, B.A.. I’m just trying to figure out dinner; we're out of antifreeze.”
“How about some of that curry topenade?” Startled, Murdock finally met B.A.'s gaze. B.A.'s knowing gaze. “And toast points?”
“Basco...”
“Come on, Murdock, I'm not stupid. I know there's no way we're going by boat. Just...make sure I'm knocked out real good, okay, Captain? I don't want to be waking up in some falling tank, or something.”
At that, Murdock couldn't help but laugh, recalling their crazy adventure over Germany. “Good times, yeah? You got it, B.A., and I’ll make sure to make you a huge pot of you're favorite stuff.”
“Well, best be getting your apron on, now, bro, and don't forget the toast points!”
Chuckling, the shorter man made to walk past the Ranger in the doorway, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him. “Hey, Murdock...I...I know you're trying, and...well, I just wanted to let you know that I appreciate that, and I’m trying, too.” B.A. Looked extremely uncomfortable, dropping his tough-soldier routine and admitting fault; Murdock cocked his head to the side and quirked his lips in a half-grin.
“So...you promise not to kill me every time we need air travel?”
“I promise not to kill you, fool.” And damn if those liquid dark chocolate eyes didn't soften into something Murdock might've been just crazy enough to call tenderness.
It wasn't until an entirely unsubtle throat clearing sounded from their right that the pilot even noticed that they had been standing too close together, in the doorway, B.A.'s hand still on his shoulder, staring into eachother's eyes for an inappropriately long time.
Snapping his head around and taking a step away from the too-warm man before him, Murdock wasn't all that surprised to see Hannibal looking at them with a single eyebrow raised in bemusement, cigar held firmly between his teeth. Choosing to ignore the way his pulse had quickened and he felt as though he had been caught with his pants down in confession, or the way he felt a sharp stab of- was that loss?- as B.A.'s hand slid from his shoulder, fell to his own side. He'd think about it later. Or not. Maybe it was something better left uncatalogued or thought on. “What can we do you for, bossman?”
“I was just coming to let you know Faceman's gone to get pizza.” Looking at the suddenly-larger space between the two, he somehow made his raised brow look even more quizzical and...amused? “Not interrupting anything, am I?”
“No, sir. B.A. here was just threatening to use his big, beefy arms and body to harm, possibly kill, me in a number of artistic and imaginative ways; you know, the usual.” Murdock tried his hardest not to let his gaze slip to the other man, but when was he ever known for his self control? B.A. met his eyes seriously before turning back to their colonel.
What's up with that?
“Yeah, bro, I was just letting this crazy fucker know he'd best be making me a great dinner, if he knows what's good for him.”
“Uh-huh...Well, I wouldn't want to be the cause of any unnecessary team deaths, but Face should be back soon. You'll just have to get your dinner when we land in Hawaii.”
Baracus just raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms once again, so Murdock shot a loopy grin at Hannibal with a curt “Yes, sir!” before snapping a salute and going back to his “desk.”
“Guess I'll see you boys in fifteen, then.” the colonel's gravelly voice sounded amused, and his blue eyes twinkled as he looked between Murdock and Baracus. “We're eating in the loading bay- make sure you're on time, or Face's liable to eat it all.”
As the older man left with a nod and gesture of his cigar, Murdock began to feel antsy, refusing to look his companion in the eye- afraid of what he may see, or what he more than likely wouldn't. Quickly locking empty drawers and pocketing useless scraps of paper, the pilot grabbed his favorite cap and made for the door. Again. “Well, B.A., sounds like the Faceman'll be back soon, and I’m dying for some M&Ms-and-cheese pizza, so if you'll excuse me...”
“Murdock.” B.A. didn't move out of the doorway and the shorter man, head still down, refusing to look his friend in the eye, got a good long look at the firm, fabric-straining pectoral muscles of the man's chest. He really shouldn't stand with his arms crossed like that, it's entirely too distracting...Damn, his biceps are as big as my head! “Murdock.”
Snapped out of his appreciative meditation by B.A.'s gravelly, serious tone, the addressed aviations expert felt himself flush. “I can give you the sedative tomorrow, before we head out. If you take it an hour before flight, I think you should be good until we land. If you're worried abou-”
“Shut up, fool.” Dropping his arms to his sides, Basco stepped into Murdock's personal space, invading it with his larger-than-life presence. “You know that's not what I want to talk about.”
“I'm entirely sure I'm not entirely sure I know what you mean.”
B.A.'s brow was furrowed, as though in deep thought, or like something was bothering him, but as he caught the shorter man's gaze, Murdock saw his eyes take on that softer look once again. No way could that look, which Murdock was in no way equipped to label again, not in this close proximity, be because of him. Maybe he has gas, or something. “Listen, I know things have been kind of constant, chill or whatever, with the team lately, and I just...Face and Hannibal, they're great and everything, but...I'm still afraid of flying, you crazy fuck, but, just...since you're going to be there...If you weren't going, I'd...”
The pilot was having a tough time not cracking a teasing grin at this tough man stumbling over all of his words, and...was that a blush?
“Murdock...” Apparently, he wasn't suppressing that grin at all. “I've come to rely on you as a friend, and I feel comfortable with you, even if you're a couple colors short of a crayon box. Murdock, I-”
“B.A.! MURDOCK! HANNIBAL SAYS I CAN'T START EATING THIS PIZZA UNTIL YOU GET YOUR ASSES IN HERE, SO HURRY THE HELL UP! I'M STARVING!”
The larger man flinched and finally stepped back and out of the doorway. Uncrossing his arms, he started towards the loading bay and Face's yelling. Murdock gaped after him before hurrying to follow. “Hey...Hey! Basco! What were you trying to say?” Matching stride with the other's longer legs, Murdock found that he really wanted to know. The strange indigestion-like feeling in the pit of his stomach was probably caused by his intense curiosity, and the fact that B.A. had been cut off before he reached his conclusion.
Nevermind the fact that the feeling had started as soon as the Ranger had invaded his personal space.
Glancing down into Murdock's face, B.A. lengthened his stride. “We'll talk about it some other time. It wasn't that important.”
“Bu-”
“STOP KISSING, AND HURRY UP. IT'S GETTING COLD!”
“C'mon, fool, we're gonna miss the food.”