After they'd escaped the van, leaping out when they slowed for a turn, Face procured a car, B.A. took the wheel, and Hannibal directed them to a safe-house. Murdock stumbled exiting the car before catching himself.
"I think we could all use some rest," Hannibal said.
"I am going to sleep for days," Face said before claiming the bedroom at the back.
B.A. would've gone to sleep himself, but Murdock demanded B.A. come smite the monsters under his bed. B.A. said, "There's only dust bunnies."
"Monster dust bunnies."
B.A. reminded himself that Murdock had gotten shot today, and it would only take a moment. When he straightened from his crouch—the underside of the bed held only regular dust bunnies and a small daddy long legs, which B.A. made the decision not to mention—Murdock had drawn close like he was poised to catch B.A. if any monsters tried to drag him under, so close B.A. noticed that Murdock's skin had gone dark and discolored where he'd been shot.
"What's—" B.A. reached a hand toward the discoloration, and Murdock flinched away.
"It's nothing," Murdock said.
"If it's nothing, let me see." B.A. tilted Murdock's chin down. He had one hell of a bruise coming in.
"I was wearing Kevlar," Murdock said. "I'm fine."
"Why didn't you say something?" B.A. demanded.
"I was letting you play doctor," Murdock said. "Then there were M.P.s."
"Do you need a real doctor?" B.A. asked.
"No," Murdock said firmly.
B.A. stared at him a moment. "How many fingers am I holding up?"
"I've got a headache, I'm tired, and I never want to get handcuffed again unless there are safe-words involved, but I'm fine."
"You ain't fine," B.A. said. "You're shaking."
"Yeah, well," Murdock said, his eyes gone shifty, "I never got my lightning bolt."
"You don't need stitches," B.A. said.
"Because I'm fine," Murdock said, like B.A. had just proved his point.
"You must have a really messed up definition of fine." B.A. pressed Murdock gently down until he sat on the edge of the mattress.
"Are you going to bed?" Murdock asked, a note of alarm in his voice, as B.A. crossed to the door. He was definitely not fine if he was this worried about being left alone.
"Yeah," B.A. said, closing it. He turned back to Murdock, who cycled through from concern to confused to tentatively hopeful. "Don't take this to mean more than it is," he warned.
Murdock scooted back against the wall to make room even as he said, "I thought you said—"
"I know what I said." B.A. toed off his shoes, took off his belt, and abandoned them on the floor to crawl into bed with Murdock. "If you didn't notice, we ain't in the military anymore."
"But we could still—we might still get our records cleared."
"They can't throw you out until they reinstate you again," B.A. said gently, speaking from entirely too much experience. "'Sides, we're resting." He pulled up the covers and threw an arm over Murdock, then pointedly closed his eyes.
Murdock took this as an invitation to curl in close to B.A., to tangle their legs together and roll over top of him. "Does resting," he asked carefully, "include kissing?"
"Resting," B.A. said gruffly, "includes resting."
"But eventually there'll be kissing?" Murdock asked.
B.A. wondered why he'd expected anything different from Murdock. Finally, he said, "Yeah. Eventually there'll be kissing."
The tips of Murdock's fingers brushed lightly along B.A.'s side, and he said, "You don't think we're ever getting reinstated, do you?"
B.A. swallowed. "I think we already got all our second chances."
"We're still a team," Murdock said with conviction. "And I have faith in the boss." After a moment, like he was afraid he'd ruined his chances, "But there'll still be kissing, right?"
B.A. opened his eyes to pull Murdock in for a brief press of lips. He almost believed that was enough to get Murdock to settle down.
Then, "What about sex?"
"Go to sleep, fool."
In the morning, the bruise looked even worse, spanned the length of Murdock's forehead, but Murdock was smiling. "Hannibal's got us a job," Murdock said excitedly. "And I made pancakes." He dropped a plate piled high with said pancakes on the bed and a bottle of maple syrup next to it. He scrambled onto the mattress and handed B.A. a fork, then sat, chin propped up in his hands, vibrating with impatience as B.A. ate them.
B.A. made it through two before saying, "For fuck's sake," and putting the plate aside.
It was barely safely on the floor before Murdock had crawled into his lap and was saying, "My forehead hurts a lot this morning. You should kiss it better."
"Hurt anywhere else?" B.A. asked after pressing a soft kiss there, barely restraining himself from rolling his eyes.
"My lips," Murdock said. "It's like a swarm of angry bees."
B.A. dropped a few kisses against Murdock's mouth.
"Don't push your luck," B.A. said.
"Of course not," Murdock agreed.
B.A. knew Murdock was feeling better, the way he so shamelessly lied.