The smoke alarm was going off. Again.
Face sighed at the high-pitched beeping and finished drying off his hair camly. He briefly considered, for the fifth time, seeing if he could replace the beeping with Miley Cyrus music. That might actually get them to evacuate the house.
Nah, Murdock would probably like it. He was weird like that.
Speaking of which...
Face trotted downstairs to BA's familiar angry bellow.
“Did you set dinner on fire again, fool?”
“What is dinner?” Face inquired, yanking a ratty t-shirt over his head.
“Pasta,” Murdock grinned, chef's hat tilted dangerously to one side and southern accent lilting invitingly.
“You burned pasta?”
“It's flambe! That means it's French.”
“I love French things.”
“I know.” Murdock looked up from his pot of what may or may not have been sauce and winked. Face grabbed a dishtowel off the rack, twirled it up, and whacked Murdock soundly on the ass, just like he had with his fellow frat boys back in college – before stealing their girlfriends, of course. Or leaving a gay crisis in his wake. “Oi!”
“I'm going to go calm down the big guy,” Face informed him, chuckling. Down the hall he went, to where BA was pumping iron in their makeshift workout room – formerly the second bedroom.
“Is the house burning down around us?” BA grunted between bench presses.
“Not this time.”
“Did he ruin dinner?”
Face shrugged. “Do we ever really know with him?”
BA huffed and tossed the barbells down like they were toothpicks. “Sometimes I don't even remember why I ever put up with you fools in the first place. And why's he gotta cook? Can't we order pizza for once?”
Face stood behind him and started rubbing his sore shoulders soothingly. “We can't get take-out because we live in the middle of nowhere.”
BA grumbled under his breath.
“And you put up with us because you loooooove us.”
“You're lucky you're so pretty. Ain't nobody would put up with you otherwise.”
“It's a gift,” Face grinned, pecking BA on the cheek in a manner that nobody else dared. BA raised an eyebrow.
“Tonight, your ass is mine.”
“Isn't it always?”
Murdock's howl came from in the kitchen. Face and BA got there in time to see him setting the table with their mismatched plates that they picked up from all over, humming a nonsensical tune under his breath.
Face paused. “Where's Hannibal?”
“Probably upstairs on the computer machine,” Murdock answered sensibly.
Face trotted up the stairs to fetch their erstwhile leader. As expected, he was hunched over the gently glowing screen, which was the only light in the dark room.
“You'll ruin your eyesight doing that,” he said as he flicked on the lights.
Hannibal looked up, blinking. “Is it dark already? Damn, I lost track of time.”
“Not only is it dark, but it's dinnertime. Didn't you hear the smoke alarm?”
“I figured it was Murdock's new dance music.”
Face squinted at the computer. “Researching another case?”
“Yeah. There's this-”
“Save it for tomorrow. It's dinner now, and then movie time, and then...” Face nuzzled into the back of Hannibal's neck teasingly. “Then it's fun times for everyone. Especially you.”
Hannibal chuckled, taking the cigar out of his mouth – but not before rolling it around suggestively. “I guess we better go eat then. Need to keep our strength up.”
“Oh good, he wasn't lost after all!” Murdock crowed happily. BA was already seated, facing a heaping bowl of pasta with suspicious sauce.
“There's no antifreeze in here, right?” he asked, worried.
“Naw, just cinnamon,” Murdock smiled, serving up everyone else's bowls and making a grand gesture with his hands. “You may begin!”
The whole team dug in with gusto, Hannibal was happy to note. The big grin on Murdock's face made him even happier.
“Damn, Murdock,” BA grinned. “You make a mighty fine housewife.”
“I thought I was the wife?”
“No, Face, you're just a power bottom,” Hannibal commented. BA almost snorted beer out his nose. After a minute of frantic coughing, he took another swig.
Face grumbled into his delicious pasta.
Hannibal grinned and looked around at his team. Nights in were rare. Nights in with all of them uninjured were even rarer, and he had every intention of taking advantage of this one. One look into the eyes of every man at the table told him that they were thinking exactly the same thing. The leader sighed, happy and content.
Even if his pasta tasted suspiciously smokey.