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b0nesfound a path to our alikeness
amy/murdock. (the a-team tv show!verse)
pg; 6,150 words
Amy wasn’t sure she liked where this was going. It wasn’t like she disliked Murdock – actually, out of the four of the men she hung around with day in and day out, Murdock was at the top of her list (not that she would tell anybody that) – but just that she had no room and the last thing she needed was to be supervisor to a crazy man.
notes: this story, you guys. I don't know. i've written het pairings often when doing my original stories but never for fanfiction (I usually stick with slash or gen). sure, I have het ships for a few of my fandoms but i've never thought to write it, especially not anything like this. I knew this was going to be a challenge going into it but I decided not to let that deter me and i'm glad I didn't because I actually really loved writing this. a lot. it could have been much, much longer but I didn't really want to go overboard. if you couldn't tell, this is for the tv show since there is no Amy in the movie (not yet? but that's a discussion for another time) but, if you don't know the character, you're more than welcome to put any actress that you want in her shoes (I hate to admit it, but I did exactly that (and I know what the original Amy looks like!). I have a picture of the actress Beth Riesgraf as my desktop background and my mind kept imagining her as Amy from then on - which would just cause all kinds of time paradoxes but, what can you do, am I right?). other things you should know: i'm not a romantic kind of person, but I tried. and of course there's a happy ending. also, no mix this time, unfortunately. I was far too lazy to make one and I didn't have one I could re-use so, instead, I wound up putting Regina Spektor and Lisa Hannigan on shuffle.
Amy was sitting on her couch, leaning over the too short coffee table that had her notes from the story that was due yesterday and she rearranged them, shuffling the scraps of paper as she tried to make sense of it all. The television was on in the corner of the room, volume fluctuating between muffled and loud as she kept messing with the controls, knowing she had just turned it on as company but wanting to use it as a distraction. She heard the tail-end of jokes, missing everything but the punch line and she laughed anyway. She was pretty sure she’d seen this episode before.
It was pouring, she could hear the heavy ‘whup whup whup’ of the rain slamming into her windows and she stared at her curtains and sighed. She kept waiting for the thunder and lightening to just make it all worse but it never came and she pushed the hair out of her eyes – she really was due for a haircut but with her job and her traveling, when did she ever have time for something now considered so trivial? There were days where she regretted insisting the A-Team treated her as a member, hated waking up before the sun rose because she had to get moving, because they got a job and needed her this time and they didn’t care that she had only just gotten to sleep. But then she’d think of her brother, the brother she never spoke about to anyone, her brother the solider who had been killed in the war and then she got up, she packed and had an adventure.
“This is ridiculous,” she said, throwing her hands in the air and tossing the sweater off her shoulders because it was only making her cheeks flush than actually keep her warm. If she didn’t put this piece together by the morning, it’d be kicked and she’d get chewed out for the rest of the day by her boss who was ‘only looking out for her’. She’d believe that when he finally started following through on the promise he made her on her first day: ‘I won’t let you flounder. You’re too smart for that.’
Amy was checking under the table for a piece of paper, paper that had the correct spelling for one of her sources, that had seemed to have floated away, when the phone rang and she jumped, banging the back of her head on the edge of the wooden surface. Holding the spot that was now throbbing, she cursed, laughing after because the last time she did that she had gotten looks of shock from her companions like they didn’t think she even knew what those words meant. The telephone ring was shrill and harsh and she lunged at it just so it would stop.
“Ms. Allen!” There were only three people who called her that: her father, Murdock and…
“Hannibal?” Hannibal never called her. He always made one of the others, usually Face, pick up the phone and dial her number so just hearing his rough voice on the other end of her receiver was enough to have her do a bit of a double-take. Whatever was happening, it must have been important. “Is everything alright?”
“Listen,” he said and that was Hannibal alright, straight into business, pleasantries, he imparted one afternoon while it was just him and Amy in the back of the van as they waited for the others to finish their part of the mission, were better saved for dinner parties, “we need a favour from you.”
“Sure, anything,” she probably should have waited to hear exactly what the favour was before agreeing but she never had a problem all the other times she had gotten a phone call like this.
“Look, Murdock showed up at Face’s front door an hour ago. Apparently he’s been released from the hospital…”
“Again?” Amy interrupted and she could just see the disapproving expression on Hannibal’s face. He hated being interrupted.
“Yes. And he needs a place to stay,” Amy wasn’t sure she liked where this was going. It wasn’t like she disliked Murdock – actually, out of the four of the men she hung around with day in and day out, Murdock was at the top of her list (not that she would tell anybody that) – but just that she had no room and the last thing she needed was to be supervisor to a crazy man.
“Why can’t he stay with Face?” It was a reasonable question, she figured. Face always had fabulous places to live with enough rooms to house a football team and, besides, the two of them were practically joined at the hip no matter how many times Face would deny it.
“He says he can stay with him for one night but that’s it.”
“But why,” she asked again because Hannibal didn’t specially answer her question.
“Says he moves around too much. Something about Murdock needing stability,” they both knew that suggesting Murdock go live with B.A. would be like signing his death warrant and Hannibal? Nobody knew where he lived, if anywhere at all. Amy once joked that she thought Hannibal might have been a robot who just kind of powered down in an alley somewhere every night. Face had been the only one who laughed and Murdock spent the entire rest of the mission trying to prove her right.
“Stability? So you… want him to stay with me?” Amy exclaimed, gesturing widely with her arm. Sure, she was probably the most stable person out of the group but she didn’t have the room. She barely had enough room for herself these days and the only other bed she had besides her own was the fold-out couch and she used that. A lot.
“It’s either that or a motel, Ms. Allen. Have you ever seen what happens when Murdock lives alone?”
“No, I can’t say I have.”
“Exactly. Because we never let him,” his voice was slightly muffled and she could practically smell the cigar smoke through every little hole on her phone, “so, what’s it going to be, Ms. Allen.” What was it going to be? The last thing almost anyone said to Hannibal was the dreaded ‘no’ (though he did make a few exceptions) but the way that Hannibal had said it implied that they had already said yes for her.
“Fine,” she sighed, “tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow evening. Give you time to prepare,” Hannibal said, finishing the conversation without so much as a goodbye and hanging up. Suddenly, not finishing her story on time was the least of her concerns.
. . . .
Despite protests from both her boss and the coworkers that relied on her to help make their work station just a little more composed and sane, Amy called in and told them she was taking a personal day because getting her home ready for company – especially company in the form of Murdock – was something that tended to take her, not a couple hours, but an entire afternoon. That, and her fridge was embarrassingly empty and she figured that making dinner for two was going to require more than a pot of spaghetti and a warm loaf of garlic bread. She didn’t even know what kind of foods Murdock liked.
She promised to stop by and drop off the story she had spent the entirety of her night typing away on, saying that she knew there were probably many mistakes and apologized. Sitting at her kitchen table, she sipped her coffee, stabbing absent-mindedly at the half of the grapefruit she made herself eat – the other half having been consumed the other day – and listening to the news while she scanned the neighboring town’s newspaper. There was nothing, she realized, of interest this time and not even the man she always read, jealous of his easy style, something she tried to copy with utter failure, could entertain her. It was like the universe was setting her up for an explosion later.
After gathering herself, throwing on comfortable clothes, she dug around in her hallway closet, finally finding the extra sheets she kept handy more for herself but that would now be wrapping themselves around her creaky couch-bed. She brushed a hand over the blanket she had chosen: her grandmother had made it over twenty years ago as a Christmas gift to Amy’s brother who, in turn, had left it to Amy. Amy couldn’t make herself use it and hesitated to allow Murdock to so she folded it and put it back. She could get a new one while she ran her errands later.
By the time she had finished pulling her couch apart, somehow managing to cut up her fingers, she was out of breath and over-heated and she stumbled over to her sink, splashing cool water on her face and hating herself for not thinking to pull the thick hair off the back of her neck. She really did need that haircut. It was only a short debate over whether or not to bother with a shower but she just shrugged and changed clothes instead.
. . . .
“This is it?” Her boss, standing in his office, a hand on his hip, said when Amy handed him three pieces of crisp, white paper.
“What do you mean ‘this is it’? How many pages were you expecting out of this story?” Amy responded, mimicking his stance and sighing because, really, she had tried. It wasn’t the most exciting thing she had ever covered and even expanding it that far had been like trying to walk an overweight, lazy dog. He looked like he was going to give her a lecture but she raised an eyebrow and he bristled, shaking his head slightly.
“Fine,” he watched her turn to leave and cleared his throat, “a personal day. This is your first one.” She knew he was trying to ask if she was alright and she wanted to wait and see if he would actually say it but she also knew she had things that needed to be done.
“A… uh, friend is coming to stay with me for awhile. I need to get ready.”
“A whole day?”
“It was kind of a last minute thing.”
“Ah. Right,” he nodded like he completely understood and Amy laughed, making her way towards her cluttered desk to make sure she didn’t have any mail waiting for her, an idea hitting her during the short walk. Picking up the phone, she dialed the last number she knew Face was living, holding her breath that a stranger didn’t pick up.
“Hello?”
“Oh, thank god,” Amy exhaled and she could see Face’s raised eyebrow, “I thought maybe… somebody else… I don’t have to explain myself.”
“What is it?” He sounded rushed, like he had been busy with something – or someone – when the phone had rung and she considered telling him that he didn’t have to answer, but she was grateful that he did.
“It’s this Murdock thing. I mean, what does he eat?”
“He’s not a puppy you’re babysitting, Amy,” Face said, following that up with a quick “hold on” and turned away from the phone to yell: “No! Murdock, just sit.”
“You sure about that?” Amy chuckled when he came back.
“Alright, so he’s kind of like a puppy. But don’t tell him I said that.”
“No problem.” There was silence and Amy thought maybe he was expecting her to say something else or perhaps he was ready to hang up and she jumped when he spoke again.
“He hates peas.”
“Peas.”
“That’s pretty much… hold on…” he paused, like he was listening to Murdock explain something and he made sounds of confusion, “he says something about white flowers that looks like broccoli but isn’t.”
“Got it,” did none of them ever eat vegetables? How difficult was it to remember cauliflower? It was just as well that Murdock hated peas because she had grown quite a distaste for them too.
“Is that it?”
“That’s it.”
“Are you allergic to dogs?” Face asked suddenly.
“No? Why?”
“He says he’s bringing Billy.”
“Tell him there’s plenty of room for Billy.”
“I give you two days,” Face said before they finished.
. . . .
Amy arrived home with two large paper bags full of food she wasn’t sure what she was going to do with and one smaller bag that was stuffed with a cheap but comfortable blanket that she had found in the furniture store around the corner from the supermarket. She had gotten a strange look from cashier when she showed up, the blanket the only thing cuddled in her arms and an even stranger one when she accidentally wondered out loud if she should be buying a dog bed for a dog that was only real to the man who created him.
She rubbed her hands over her face, dropping the bags on the counter and busying herself in unloading them, keeping a close eye on the clock, flicking on her radio just to have some noise as she thought and slammed around her kitchen. It really was unfair, in a sense, she pondered to herself. True, she had said yes but, just like every time with them, she felt bullied into it. It wasn’t her fault that she was the only one with a real, normal place to live.
It was already late in the afternoon and she realized she hadn’t been given a specific time that Murdock was supposed to show on her doorstep. There was a distant rumble of thunder. Just what she needed: more rain. Dinner was simple: something with pasta (a food, she found, she couldn’t stay away from) and chicken that she planned on mostly improvising. After preparation there was nothing more to do but wait.
She hadn’t even known she had fallen asleep until a huge clap of thunder startled her awake and she put a hand to her chest, feeling her heart beating so rapidly she thought it was a heart-attack. Thunderstorms brought out the worst in her and made her lousy company so, of course, right at that exact moment, there was a knock on her door. It was slow and cautious and she struggled up from the couch-bed she’d have to fix up later, bounding over and pulling it open.
“Evening, Ms. Allen,” Murdock said, grinning. He was surprisingly not that wet considering how hard it was pouring. There was a flash of lightening and Amy jumped.
“Hi, Murdock,” she replied, glancing over his shoulder.
“Faceman dropped me off. Had somewhere else to be if you get what I mean,” he winked at her and she stepped aside, allowing him entrance and he stopped right in the middle of her apartment, dropping his two bags to the floor and surveying the area, “cozy.”
“You… uh… you’re going to be sleeping over here,” Amy pointed to the couch and Murdock tensed, bending his legs like he was getting ready to leap onto it but she held out her hands and stopped him, “I wouldn’t. It’ll probably break.”
“Good to know.” There was more thunder, this time loud enough that it rattled the things not heavy enough to be weighted down and the lights flickered, the radio cutting in and out and Amy glanced around, not realizing she had reached out to clutch Murdock’s arm until they were both staring at her hand. She quickly let him go but he didn’t appear too perturbed. “You know,” Murdock said, kicking his bags off towards his bed, “my mother used to say that thunder was angels bowling.”
“Is that so?” Surprisingly, this had been an oddly normal conversation so far.
“Nah, actually she used to say…” but he trailed off, like he was slipping somewhere he didn’t want to go but he shook it off and moved to the kitchen, leaning against the counter and then hopping up on it, legs swinging back and forth. Amy knew better than to ask him if he ever planned on finishing that sentence and instead joined him in the kitchen, crossing her arms as she rested against one of the chairs pushed up against her table.
“Are you hungry?”
“Starving,” Murdock grinned and the lights went brown and then black, staying off for a good thirty seconds before flittering back on, the radio winding up, the man on the other end continuing on his speech like he hadn’t been affected.
“Well, let’s start before we’ll have to boil a can of soup over the gas stove.”
. . . .
Murdock talked so much while they sat at the table that by the time he had gotten to eating his dinner it was cold. Amy offered, between wiping the tears of laughter out of her eyes and catching her breath, to put it in the microwave but Murdock said no, said that it tasted fine cold, really. Amy didn’t believe him but he ate the entire thing so she didn’t bring it up.
He said he would wash the dishes but Amy shook her head, saying that it was impolite to make him do anything since he was the guest and Murdock replied that if he was going to be staying here, he’d have to do something.
“How about you just make yourself comfortable,” she said, turning on the faucet and impatiently waiting for the water to get hot enough that she could start scrubbing. Murdock gave a quick nod and a flourished bow, spinning around on one foot towards the bed that was temporarily his own. He started whistling as he tossed his bags onto the bed, unzipping them and doing a little jig, pulling out a toothbrush and other bathroom necessities (was this really all he had with him? A few clothes and a few bathroom things?). “Down the hall, to the left. It’s not hard to find,” Amy said, drying off the last of the plates, moving onto her pots next.
He disappeared and then shouted something that Amy couldn’t understand, only realizing, as he returned, that it wasn’t even in English. She was about to ask him what he was saying when he spontaneously burst into song, getting louder to compete with the booming thunder. He skipped into the kitchen, still singing, and grabbed Amy around the waist despite her protests and grasped her by her soaking wet, gloved hand and twirled her around. While she laughed, she told him to stop, please, she had to finish washing the dishes and he finally let her go, jumping back up to sit on the counter, right where he sat when he had walked in a few hours ago.
“You’re nuts,” Amy said, shaking her head.
“Thank you,” Murdock smiled. Amy flicked soap in his face and he dramatically held his eyes, crying out and falling, hard, to the floor and Amy believed him for a few seconds, bending over to ask if he was alright in a panicked voice but then Murdock started chuckling so she kicked him, lightly, on the side.
“You’re nuts and a jerk,” she commented, turning off the water. Murdock stayed on the floor and she stepped over him, shoving her pots into the cupboard over the oven. He tried to clutch her ankles but she managed to get past him, moving into the livingroom, trying to figure out how she was going to watch her evening television if she had nowhere to sit.
She stood, flipping around the channels, just needing something to unwind with and she saw Murdock crawling, fingers curling into the mattress, dark eyes peeking up at her. She glanced at him and smirked.
“You can sit on the bed, you know,” Murdock said, pulling himself up onto it and sliding over so there was room for her to sit next to him. She watched him for a moment, thinking it over but he didn’t look like he was planning on trying anything she’d have to slap him for so she kicked off her shoes and bounced on, the metal holding everything together creaking and she winced. It was still pouring but the storm seemed to have died down which was, to her, a relief.
They sat up for a good three hours, watching some horribly long kung-fu movie that had amazingly difficult to read subtitles but it didn’t matter because Murdock spoke for them and it took Amy a half hour into the film to realize that he didn’t understand the language at all and was making everything up. He got her to play along near the end but she didn’t think she was doing very well, even when Murdock laughed.
Her eyes were heavy and she almost fell asleep on Murdock’s bed but he prodded her in her side until she woke up enough to drag herself first to the bathroom and then to her room, throwing away a quick goodnight, not listening for one to be returned.
. . . .
She awoke to the smell of coffee and frying eggs and, pulling on a robe, she slipped out of her room, shuffling towards the kitchen to see Murdock standing in a t-shirt and boxers, pushing breakfast around in one of her pans, coffee brewing in the pot she could never get to work.
“Morning, Ms. Allen!” he was far too cheerful for that early and she only grumbled a response, dropping down at the table and putting her head in her hand, “not a morning person, I see,” Murdock exclaimed, turning off the stove, “eggs?” She groaned, lowering her head into her arms, burying her face. A mug clunked down in front of her and she peered at it through her fingers. Murdock was sitting on the counter, eating eggs out of the pan with his fingers and Amy pulled the coffee towards her, blowing on the steam. There was no milk or sugar in it and she knew she’d have to get up eventually but she figured she’d might as well wait for it to cool down a bit. She pressed her cheek against her arm and stared at Murdock sideways.
“You’re not even going to use a fork?”
“Nope.”
“Right,” and she let it go because he wasn’t really making a mess, just being weird. She thought about asking about Billy but if Murdock hadn’t brought it up yet she guessed that maybe it would never be discussed.
“You have work today,” and he said it more like a statement than a question and Amy sighed.
“Yeah,” she pushed the chair out and lifted her head last, moving towards the fridge, leaning heavily against it as she dragged out the milk, dumping enough into it to turn the coffee light tan, “what’re you going to do?” It was a legitimate question, really, because the last thing she wanted (as much as she didn’t want to admit it) was to leave Murdock alone in her apartment.
“We might have a job,” Murdock said cheerfully and Amy wondered when he was told this because she was pretty sure she would have heard her phone ringing in the middle of the night, “Face’ll pick me up in a couple hours.”
“A job?” Which was her subtle way of asking if they needed her too.
“I thought,” Murdock moved to his feet, dumping the pan into the sink, searching around for the sponge and the soap, scouring with cold water and Amy was going to complain but he was washing her dishes and water was water so she let it be, “you had to work.”
“You are my work,” she replied, drinking only half of her coffee before dumping the rest down the drain, “part of it, anyway. I should get dressed. And call in and let them know where I’ll be,” and she hurried off towards her bedroom, heart pounding with excitement. She hadn’t been looking forward to the day but a job? For once, she thought she could be good for that.
. . . .
“How’s it going?” Face said, stealing the chair next to Amy as she watched Hannibal and B.A. talk to their now client, Murdock running literal circles around everyone, just to see how many he could do before getting tired (or before B.A. punched him, whichever came first).
“With Murdock? Piece of cake.”
“Seriously?” Face adjusted his tie, futzing with his sleeves and she knew that meant something but she was too distracted by giggling at Murdock to really dig deeper.
“Sure. He’s been a real gentleman.”
“Murdock? A gentleman?”
“What? Just because he’s nuts doesn’t mean he can’t be…”
“…a gentleman,” Face finished for her and she nodded.
“Well, as much of a gentleman as Murdock can be, I guess. It’s been kind of… fun.”
“Fun?” And Amy couldn’t see what Face’s problem was with this entire situation. It wasn’t like he was some horrible person who nobody would expect this kind of attitude. Maybe it was because they all spent so much time with him, or that they knew each other for so long. “Just you wait,” Face said, “it won’t be fun for much longer. I guarantee it.”
Amy didn’t quite believe him but she laughed and rolled her eyes, arms crossed over her chest, wiggling her fingers when Murdock jogged past them and waved.
. . . .
It was five days before Amy finally got a chance to go home. The mission had run longer than expected, Face going too deep undercover for them to just simply break away and too many bruises, cuts and tears later (though Amy had to snicker over the fact that none of those tears had belonged to her) they were back in Los Angeles and Amy forgot that Murdock was staying with her until the two of them were left standing on a corner. She started walking towards where she parked and was startled and confused to see him following her, slapping her palm to her forehead when she recalled the reason.
The ride back to her apartment was strangely silent and they staggered inside, not bothering to turn on any of the lights and Amy made her way to the fridge, pulling out a jug of water and pouring herself a glass, doubling back to get one for Murdock who hadn’t even asked for one but looked like he needed it. It was only late afternoon, the sun still floating, heavy in the pale peach sky but they were both exhausted and, even though they turned on some terrible game show that neither of them knew any of the answers to (Murdock shouting out whatever came to his head, especially if it made no sense) Amy found herself drifting off ten minutes in and, by the twenty minute mark, she was fast asleep.
Amy woke up to an infomercial for some kind of special knife softly shouting at her on the television and she groggily glanced over to the clock on the wall, squinting and groaning when she saw it was only midnight. She knew she should have been more uncomfortable or startled that she and Murdock had fallen asleep next to one another but she was too disoriented to care, her stomach growling as she slipped to her feet, deciding to leave the television on just in case it was the only thing keeping Murdock snoozing.
The fridge temporarily blinded her and she shielded her eyes, digging around for something, anything that she could just quickly eat before pulling herself back to her bed to collapse for the rest of the night. She turned, arms full of deli meat, bread and a jar of mayonnaise, and screamed, a shadowed figure looming over her. The jar fell to the floor and immediately shattered, the rest of the food unharmed by the impact and Murdock let out a nervous laugh and a yelp and she could tell he was going to walk closer but she stuck out her hand.
“Don’t… there’s glass on the floor,” she narrowed her eyes, stepping over it best she could, flicking on one of the dimmer lights, the orange glow flooding the kitchen and she ran a hand through her hair, sighing at the mess she now had no choice but to clean up. “Dammit, Murdock,” she sighed, bending over to pick up the bread and meat to fling it onto the counter. Murdock looked genuinely upset and apologetic and his lips quivered like he might burst into tears. Amy said nothing, too tired and too on edge to try and be nice and instead she tore off piece after piece of paper towel and got to her knees, beginning to mop up the pale goop, knowing that she’d have to eventually scrub the floor so it didn’t begin to smell. She heard the sound of tearing and then running water and soon Murdock had joined her, following her movements and she glanced at him, so intent on doing whatever he could to fix what was, essentially, his fault.
“’M sorry,” he said sadly, sweeping up the glass into a small pile with his bare hands.
“Murdock, it’s okay. I’ve got this,” Amy said and he was breaking her heart and if it had been anyone else – like Face – she would have just assumed he was doing it on purpose for sympathy but this was Murdock and Murdock was hardly anything other than sincere, even when he wasn’t himself. He didn’t listen, picking up more paper towels, slopping up what he could, gagging slightly and she couldn’t blame him. Their heads were closer together, she could hear him breathing, and she reached over, grabbing him by the shoulder and then under the chin to get his attention, “really, Murdock.”
“I didn’t mean to scare you, Ms. Allen. I learned a long time ago how to be quiet when I walked and I guess I forgot how I always do it now.” In the background, the host began asking a series of stupid questions and then shouting back answers, encouraging the audience to scream the motto for the product back at him. Amy just smiled a little and continued wiping up the mayonnaise, pushing her hair behind her ears and she sniffled, not because she was upset but because the smell was getting to her. When she looked up, Murdock was still staring at her and she was about to ask what was wrong when he was leaning over and she barely had time to react before he was pushing his lips against hers.
It wasn’t insistent or rough but oddly sweet and careful and she kissed back because it felt nice and because for a few seconds she forgot it was Murdock and, when she remembered, she realized she didn’t care. She pulled back and they just blinked at each other and Murdock grinned, dipping his head down and Amy felt her cheeks flushing.
“I think we got it all,” Amy said, taking the hand Murdock offered her to help her to her feet and she threw the towels into the trash, listening as they thunked to the bottom. She was tempted to leave the rest until the daylight but she was there now so, begrudgingly, she picked up soap and a brush and was about to get set to work when Murdock lifted the items from her hands.
“I’ll do it,” he said, holding onto them tightly as if he didn’t plan to let it go if Amy tried to yank them away.
“But…”
“My fault. Anyway, I can’t sleep anymore. Billy’s been barking so much I can barely stand it. Seriously, I don’t know how you can take it. I don’t know what it is but he won’t stop.”
“Maybe,” and Amy couldn’t believe she was doing this but, a year ago, if somebody told her she would be traveling around and helping the A-Team, she wouldn’t have believed that either, “he’s scared.”
“Scared?”
“Well,” she swallowed, relaxing the best she could against the counter, “it’s all new. He got picked up and put in this apartment he doesn’t know and then his owner left him alone for almost a week in this new place and…” she was rambling and she quickly shut up, eyes flickering from where Murdock was glancing (where she assumed Billy was) and then to his face as he considered what she had to say.
“You’re probably right.”
“Are we going to talk about it?” Amy asked suddenly, wrapping her arms around herself as a chill appeared from apparently nowhere. Murdock stepped nearer like maybe he was going to hug her but he didn’t reach out or step any closer so she simply ignored it best she could.
“Talk about what?”
“About you kissing me.”
“I like you, Ms. Allen,” Murdock said, lowering his arms to his sides, the soap sloshing around in its container. Amy stumbled because she didn’t know what to say. She liked him too, liked him a lot but it was confusing because the guy was out of it ninety-nine percent of the time and she couldn’t tell when he was being Murdock or pretending to be someone else and all the veracity she had praised earlier couldn’t quite get her to entirely believe it was true.
“You do?”
“Sure I do. I wouldn’t have kissed you if I didn’t like you,” Murdock poked her nose like she was being just the silliest person he ever met, “you should go off to bed before you fall asleep standing up. I’ve done that before and it’s not as much fun as it seems like it will be,” he said, turning his back to her and inspecting the spot on the floor where he had to clean as if there were many ways to approach it other than just doing it. Amy silently swept up the glass that had so far remained left alone and then paused, just watching Murdock get down on his hands and knees, face mere inches from the tile as he hurriedly scrubbed back and forth.
She felt far from as tired as she should have been but she was in no mood to argue with a crazy man so instead she spun on her heels, leaning down to pat on her thighs.
“Come on, Billy,” she called, “let’s go to bed.” She heard Murdock chuckle and she waited until she had gone into her own room before putting her face in her hands. She knew that insanity wasn’t something you could catch but she still couldn’t quite fathom why she had done that. Maybe she was more exhausted than she thought.
She fell asleep half an hour later, listening to the distant sounds of a 1am kung-fu film, Murdock doing every voice, making up the dialogue as he went along.
. . . .
Two months later and Murdock was still living with her. He struggled to get a job, something she constantly complained about until she came home from work one late night to see that her apartment had been cleaned so well that it sparkled. She figured that him doing the housework was good enough as payment for the moment.
The couch had turned back into a couch, sheets washed and folded up back in the closet. Murdock had accidentally pulled out the wrong blanket as he folded everything up and Amy all but snatched it away, a few days later confessing everything about her brother, crying harder than she ever had in a long time. She bought an extra pillow for Murdock and a dog bed for Billy, even though, most of the time, he (according to Murdock) found his way onto the bed with them most nights.
Face seemed to be the only one truly shocked when they showed up for one meeting hand in hand, Hannibal merely smiling and chewing on his cigar like he had seen this coming from miles away and B.A. shook his head, grumbling something about how if she wanted to screw up her life he supposed it was really up to her.
Murdock finally stopped calling her ‘Ms. Allen’ although, Amy had to admit, she missed it sometimes.
On their first official date, two months and three weeks after they had been living together, Murdock took her to a foreign language film and he told her to ignore the subtitles and spent the entire two hours speaking for the characters. He tried to get her to join in during the last half hour, but she was laughing so hard she could barely speak. When it was finished, she leaned over as the credits rolled and kissed him.
“I like you, Murdock,” she said, smiling.
“You do?”
“Sure I do, “she said, prodding him hard on the nose, “I wouldn’t have kissed you if I didn’t like you.”
amy/murdock. (the a-team tv show!verse)
pg; 6,150 words
Amy wasn’t sure she liked where this was going. It wasn’t like she disliked Murdock – actually, out of the four of the men she hung around with day in and day out, Murdock was at the top of her list (not that she would tell anybody that) – but just that she had no room and the last thing she needed was to be supervisor to a crazy man.
notes: this story, you guys. I don't know. i've written het pairings often when doing my original stories but never for fanfiction (I usually stick with slash or gen). sure, I have het ships for a few of my fandoms but i've never thought to write it, especially not anything like this. I knew this was going to be a challenge going into it but I decided not to let that deter me and i'm glad I didn't because I actually really loved writing this. a lot. it could have been much, much longer but I didn't really want to go overboard. if you couldn't tell, this is for the tv show since there is no Amy in the movie (not yet? but that's a discussion for another time) but, if you don't know the character, you're more than welcome to put any actress that you want in her shoes (I hate to admit it, but I did exactly that (and I know what the original Amy looks like!). I have a picture of the actress Beth Riesgraf as my desktop background and my mind kept imagining her as Amy from then on - which would just cause all kinds of time paradoxes but, what can you do, am I right?). other things you should know: i'm not a romantic kind of person, but I tried. and of course there's a happy ending. also, no mix this time, unfortunately. I was far too lazy to make one and I didn't have one I could re-use so, instead, I wound up putting Regina Spektor and Lisa Hannigan on shuffle.
Amy was sitting on her couch, leaning over the too short coffee table that had her notes from the story that was due yesterday and she rearranged them, shuffling the scraps of paper as she tried to make sense of it all. The television was on in the corner of the room, volume fluctuating between muffled and loud as she kept messing with the controls, knowing she had just turned it on as company but wanting to use it as a distraction. She heard the tail-end of jokes, missing everything but the punch line and she laughed anyway. She was pretty sure she’d seen this episode before.
It was pouring, she could hear the heavy ‘whup whup whup’ of the rain slamming into her windows and she stared at her curtains and sighed. She kept waiting for the thunder and lightening to just make it all worse but it never came and she pushed the hair out of her eyes – she really was due for a haircut but with her job and her traveling, when did she ever have time for something now considered so trivial? There were days where she regretted insisting the A-Team treated her as a member, hated waking up before the sun rose because she had to get moving, because they got a job and needed her this time and they didn’t care that she had only just gotten to sleep. But then she’d think of her brother, the brother she never spoke about to anyone, her brother the solider who had been killed in the war and then she got up, she packed and had an adventure.
“This is ridiculous,” she said, throwing her hands in the air and tossing the sweater off her shoulders because it was only making her cheeks flush than actually keep her warm. If she didn’t put this piece together by the morning, it’d be kicked and she’d get chewed out for the rest of the day by her boss who was ‘only looking out for her’. She’d believe that when he finally started following through on the promise he made her on her first day: ‘I won’t let you flounder. You’re too smart for that.’
Amy was checking under the table for a piece of paper, paper that had the correct spelling for one of her sources, that had seemed to have floated away, when the phone rang and she jumped, banging the back of her head on the edge of the wooden surface. Holding the spot that was now throbbing, she cursed, laughing after because the last time she did that she had gotten looks of shock from her companions like they didn’t think she even knew what those words meant. The telephone ring was shrill and harsh and she lunged at it just so it would stop.
“Ms. Allen!” There were only three people who called her that: her father, Murdock and…
“Hannibal?” Hannibal never called her. He always made one of the others, usually Face, pick up the phone and dial her number so just hearing his rough voice on the other end of her receiver was enough to have her do a bit of a double-take. Whatever was happening, it must have been important. “Is everything alright?”
“Listen,” he said and that was Hannibal alright, straight into business, pleasantries, he imparted one afternoon while it was just him and Amy in the back of the van as they waited for the others to finish their part of the mission, were better saved for dinner parties, “we need a favour from you.”
“Sure, anything,” she probably should have waited to hear exactly what the favour was before agreeing but she never had a problem all the other times she had gotten a phone call like this.
“Look, Murdock showed up at Face’s front door an hour ago. Apparently he’s been released from the hospital…”
“Again?” Amy interrupted and she could just see the disapproving expression on Hannibal’s face. He hated being interrupted.
“Yes. And he needs a place to stay,” Amy wasn’t sure she liked where this was going. It wasn’t like she disliked Murdock – actually, out of the four of the men she hung around with day in and day out, Murdock was at the top of her list (not that she would tell anybody that) – but just that she had no room and the last thing she needed was to be supervisor to a crazy man.
“Why can’t he stay with Face?” It was a reasonable question, she figured. Face always had fabulous places to live with enough rooms to house a football team and, besides, the two of them were practically joined at the hip no matter how many times Face would deny it.
“He says he can stay with him for one night but that’s it.”
“But why,” she asked again because Hannibal didn’t specially answer her question.
“Says he moves around too much. Something about Murdock needing stability,” they both knew that suggesting Murdock go live with B.A. would be like signing his death warrant and Hannibal? Nobody knew where he lived, if anywhere at all. Amy once joked that she thought Hannibal might have been a robot who just kind of powered down in an alley somewhere every night. Face had been the only one who laughed and Murdock spent the entire rest of the mission trying to prove her right.
“Stability? So you… want him to stay with me?” Amy exclaimed, gesturing widely with her arm. Sure, she was probably the most stable person out of the group but she didn’t have the room. She barely had enough room for herself these days and the only other bed she had besides her own was the fold-out couch and she used that. A lot.
“It’s either that or a motel, Ms. Allen. Have you ever seen what happens when Murdock lives alone?”
“No, I can’t say I have.”
“Exactly. Because we never let him,” his voice was slightly muffled and she could practically smell the cigar smoke through every little hole on her phone, “so, what’s it going to be, Ms. Allen.” What was it going to be? The last thing almost anyone said to Hannibal was the dreaded ‘no’ (though he did make a few exceptions) but the way that Hannibal had said it implied that they had already said yes for her.
“Fine,” she sighed, “tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow evening. Give you time to prepare,” Hannibal said, finishing the conversation without so much as a goodbye and hanging up. Suddenly, not finishing her story on time was the least of her concerns.
Despite protests from both her boss and the coworkers that relied on her to help make their work station just a little more composed and sane, Amy called in and told them she was taking a personal day because getting her home ready for company – especially company in the form of Murdock – was something that tended to take her, not a couple hours, but an entire afternoon. That, and her fridge was embarrassingly empty and she figured that making dinner for two was going to require more than a pot of spaghetti and a warm loaf of garlic bread. She didn’t even know what kind of foods Murdock liked.
She promised to stop by and drop off the story she had spent the entirety of her night typing away on, saying that she knew there were probably many mistakes and apologized. Sitting at her kitchen table, she sipped her coffee, stabbing absent-mindedly at the half of the grapefruit she made herself eat – the other half having been consumed the other day – and listening to the news while she scanned the neighboring town’s newspaper. There was nothing, she realized, of interest this time and not even the man she always read, jealous of his easy style, something she tried to copy with utter failure, could entertain her. It was like the universe was setting her up for an explosion later.
After gathering herself, throwing on comfortable clothes, she dug around in her hallway closet, finally finding the extra sheets she kept handy more for herself but that would now be wrapping themselves around her creaky couch-bed. She brushed a hand over the blanket she had chosen: her grandmother had made it over twenty years ago as a Christmas gift to Amy’s brother who, in turn, had left it to Amy. Amy couldn’t make herself use it and hesitated to allow Murdock to so she folded it and put it back. She could get a new one while she ran her errands later.
By the time she had finished pulling her couch apart, somehow managing to cut up her fingers, she was out of breath and over-heated and she stumbled over to her sink, splashing cool water on her face and hating herself for not thinking to pull the thick hair off the back of her neck. She really did need that haircut. It was only a short debate over whether or not to bother with a shower but she just shrugged and changed clothes instead.
“This is it?” Her boss, standing in his office, a hand on his hip, said when Amy handed him three pieces of crisp, white paper.
“What do you mean ‘this is it’? How many pages were you expecting out of this story?” Amy responded, mimicking his stance and sighing because, really, she had tried. It wasn’t the most exciting thing she had ever covered and even expanding it that far had been like trying to walk an overweight, lazy dog. He looked like he was going to give her a lecture but she raised an eyebrow and he bristled, shaking his head slightly.
“Fine,” he watched her turn to leave and cleared his throat, “a personal day. This is your first one.” She knew he was trying to ask if she was alright and she wanted to wait and see if he would actually say it but she also knew she had things that needed to be done.
“A… uh, friend is coming to stay with me for awhile. I need to get ready.”
“A whole day?”
“It was kind of a last minute thing.”
“Ah. Right,” he nodded like he completely understood and Amy laughed, making her way towards her cluttered desk to make sure she didn’t have any mail waiting for her, an idea hitting her during the short walk. Picking up the phone, she dialed the last number she knew Face was living, holding her breath that a stranger didn’t pick up.
“Hello?”
“Oh, thank god,” Amy exhaled and she could see Face’s raised eyebrow, “I thought maybe… somebody else… I don’t have to explain myself.”
“What is it?” He sounded rushed, like he had been busy with something – or someone – when the phone had rung and she considered telling him that he didn’t have to answer, but she was grateful that he did.
“It’s this Murdock thing. I mean, what does he eat?”
“He’s not a puppy you’re babysitting, Amy,” Face said, following that up with a quick “hold on” and turned away from the phone to yell: “No! Murdock, just sit.”
“You sure about that?” Amy chuckled when he came back.
“Alright, so he’s kind of like a puppy. But don’t tell him I said that.”
“No problem.” There was silence and Amy thought maybe he was expecting her to say something else or perhaps he was ready to hang up and she jumped when he spoke again.
“He hates peas.”
“Peas.”
“That’s pretty much… hold on…” he paused, like he was listening to Murdock explain something and he made sounds of confusion, “he says something about white flowers that looks like broccoli but isn’t.”
“Got it,” did none of them ever eat vegetables? How difficult was it to remember cauliflower? It was just as well that Murdock hated peas because she had grown quite a distaste for them too.
“Is that it?”
“That’s it.”
“Are you allergic to dogs?” Face asked suddenly.
“No? Why?”
“He says he’s bringing Billy.”
“Tell him there’s plenty of room for Billy.”
“I give you two days,” Face said before they finished.
Amy arrived home with two large paper bags full of food she wasn’t sure what she was going to do with and one smaller bag that was stuffed with a cheap but comfortable blanket that she had found in the furniture store around the corner from the supermarket. She had gotten a strange look from cashier when she showed up, the blanket the only thing cuddled in her arms and an even stranger one when she accidentally wondered out loud if she should be buying a dog bed for a dog that was only real to the man who created him.
She rubbed her hands over her face, dropping the bags on the counter and busying herself in unloading them, keeping a close eye on the clock, flicking on her radio just to have some noise as she thought and slammed around her kitchen. It really was unfair, in a sense, she pondered to herself. True, she had said yes but, just like every time with them, she felt bullied into it. It wasn’t her fault that she was the only one with a real, normal place to live.
It was already late in the afternoon and she realized she hadn’t been given a specific time that Murdock was supposed to show on her doorstep. There was a distant rumble of thunder. Just what she needed: more rain. Dinner was simple: something with pasta (a food, she found, she couldn’t stay away from) and chicken that she planned on mostly improvising. After preparation there was nothing more to do but wait.
She hadn’t even known she had fallen asleep until a huge clap of thunder startled her awake and she put a hand to her chest, feeling her heart beating so rapidly she thought it was a heart-attack. Thunderstorms brought out the worst in her and made her lousy company so, of course, right at that exact moment, there was a knock on her door. It was slow and cautious and she struggled up from the couch-bed she’d have to fix up later, bounding over and pulling it open.
“Evening, Ms. Allen,” Murdock said, grinning. He was surprisingly not that wet considering how hard it was pouring. There was a flash of lightening and Amy jumped.
“Hi, Murdock,” she replied, glancing over his shoulder.
“Faceman dropped me off. Had somewhere else to be if you get what I mean,” he winked at her and she stepped aside, allowing him entrance and he stopped right in the middle of her apartment, dropping his two bags to the floor and surveying the area, “cozy.”
“You… uh… you’re going to be sleeping over here,” Amy pointed to the couch and Murdock tensed, bending his legs like he was getting ready to leap onto it but she held out her hands and stopped him, “I wouldn’t. It’ll probably break.”
“Good to know.” There was more thunder, this time loud enough that it rattled the things not heavy enough to be weighted down and the lights flickered, the radio cutting in and out and Amy glanced around, not realizing she had reached out to clutch Murdock’s arm until they were both staring at her hand. She quickly let him go but he didn’t appear too perturbed. “You know,” Murdock said, kicking his bags off towards his bed, “my mother used to say that thunder was angels bowling.”
“Is that so?” Surprisingly, this had been an oddly normal conversation so far.
“Nah, actually she used to say…” but he trailed off, like he was slipping somewhere he didn’t want to go but he shook it off and moved to the kitchen, leaning against the counter and then hopping up on it, legs swinging back and forth. Amy knew better than to ask him if he ever planned on finishing that sentence and instead joined him in the kitchen, crossing her arms as she rested against one of the chairs pushed up against her table.
“Are you hungry?”
“Starving,” Murdock grinned and the lights went brown and then black, staying off for a good thirty seconds before flittering back on, the radio winding up, the man on the other end continuing on his speech like he hadn’t been affected.
“Well, let’s start before we’ll have to boil a can of soup over the gas stove.”
Murdock talked so much while they sat at the table that by the time he had gotten to eating his dinner it was cold. Amy offered, between wiping the tears of laughter out of her eyes and catching her breath, to put it in the microwave but Murdock said no, said that it tasted fine cold, really. Amy didn’t believe him but he ate the entire thing so she didn’t bring it up.
He said he would wash the dishes but Amy shook her head, saying that it was impolite to make him do anything since he was the guest and Murdock replied that if he was going to be staying here, he’d have to do something.
“How about you just make yourself comfortable,” she said, turning on the faucet and impatiently waiting for the water to get hot enough that she could start scrubbing. Murdock gave a quick nod and a flourished bow, spinning around on one foot towards the bed that was temporarily his own. He started whistling as he tossed his bags onto the bed, unzipping them and doing a little jig, pulling out a toothbrush and other bathroom necessities (was this really all he had with him? A few clothes and a few bathroom things?). “Down the hall, to the left. It’s not hard to find,” Amy said, drying off the last of the plates, moving onto her pots next.
He disappeared and then shouted something that Amy couldn’t understand, only realizing, as he returned, that it wasn’t even in English. She was about to ask him what he was saying when he spontaneously burst into song, getting louder to compete with the booming thunder. He skipped into the kitchen, still singing, and grabbed Amy around the waist despite her protests and grasped her by her soaking wet, gloved hand and twirled her around. While she laughed, she told him to stop, please, she had to finish washing the dishes and he finally let her go, jumping back up to sit on the counter, right where he sat when he had walked in a few hours ago.
“You’re nuts,” Amy said, shaking her head.
“Thank you,” Murdock smiled. Amy flicked soap in his face and he dramatically held his eyes, crying out and falling, hard, to the floor and Amy believed him for a few seconds, bending over to ask if he was alright in a panicked voice but then Murdock started chuckling so she kicked him, lightly, on the side.
“You’re nuts and a jerk,” she commented, turning off the water. Murdock stayed on the floor and she stepped over him, shoving her pots into the cupboard over the oven. He tried to clutch her ankles but she managed to get past him, moving into the livingroom, trying to figure out how she was going to watch her evening television if she had nowhere to sit.
She stood, flipping around the channels, just needing something to unwind with and she saw Murdock crawling, fingers curling into the mattress, dark eyes peeking up at her. She glanced at him and smirked.
“You can sit on the bed, you know,” Murdock said, pulling himself up onto it and sliding over so there was room for her to sit next to him. She watched him for a moment, thinking it over but he didn’t look like he was planning on trying anything she’d have to slap him for so she kicked off her shoes and bounced on, the metal holding everything together creaking and she winced. It was still pouring but the storm seemed to have died down which was, to her, a relief.
They sat up for a good three hours, watching some horribly long kung-fu movie that had amazingly difficult to read subtitles but it didn’t matter because Murdock spoke for them and it took Amy a half hour into the film to realize that he didn’t understand the language at all and was making everything up. He got her to play along near the end but she didn’t think she was doing very well, even when Murdock laughed.
Her eyes were heavy and she almost fell asleep on Murdock’s bed but he prodded her in her side until she woke up enough to drag herself first to the bathroom and then to her room, throwing away a quick goodnight, not listening for one to be returned.
She awoke to the smell of coffee and frying eggs and, pulling on a robe, she slipped out of her room, shuffling towards the kitchen to see Murdock standing in a t-shirt and boxers, pushing breakfast around in one of her pans, coffee brewing in the pot she could never get to work.
“Morning, Ms. Allen!” he was far too cheerful for that early and she only grumbled a response, dropping down at the table and putting her head in her hand, “not a morning person, I see,” Murdock exclaimed, turning off the stove, “eggs?” She groaned, lowering her head into her arms, burying her face. A mug clunked down in front of her and she peered at it through her fingers. Murdock was sitting on the counter, eating eggs out of the pan with his fingers and Amy pulled the coffee towards her, blowing on the steam. There was no milk or sugar in it and she knew she’d have to get up eventually but she figured she’d might as well wait for it to cool down a bit. She pressed her cheek against her arm and stared at Murdock sideways.
“You’re not even going to use a fork?”
“Nope.”
“Right,” and she let it go because he wasn’t really making a mess, just being weird. She thought about asking about Billy but if Murdock hadn’t brought it up yet she guessed that maybe it would never be discussed.
“You have work today,” and he said it more like a statement than a question and Amy sighed.
“Yeah,” she pushed the chair out and lifted her head last, moving towards the fridge, leaning heavily against it as she dragged out the milk, dumping enough into it to turn the coffee light tan, “what’re you going to do?” It was a legitimate question, really, because the last thing she wanted (as much as she didn’t want to admit it) was to leave Murdock alone in her apartment.
“We might have a job,” Murdock said cheerfully and Amy wondered when he was told this because she was pretty sure she would have heard her phone ringing in the middle of the night, “Face’ll pick me up in a couple hours.”
“A job?” Which was her subtle way of asking if they needed her too.
“I thought,” Murdock moved to his feet, dumping the pan into the sink, searching around for the sponge and the soap, scouring with cold water and Amy was going to complain but he was washing her dishes and water was water so she let it be, “you had to work.”
“You are my work,” she replied, drinking only half of her coffee before dumping the rest down the drain, “part of it, anyway. I should get dressed. And call in and let them know where I’ll be,” and she hurried off towards her bedroom, heart pounding with excitement. She hadn’t been looking forward to the day but a job? For once, she thought she could be good for that.
“How’s it going?” Face said, stealing the chair next to Amy as she watched Hannibal and B.A. talk to their now client, Murdock running literal circles around everyone, just to see how many he could do before getting tired (or before B.A. punched him, whichever came first).
“With Murdock? Piece of cake.”
“Seriously?” Face adjusted his tie, futzing with his sleeves and she knew that meant something but she was too distracted by giggling at Murdock to really dig deeper.
“Sure. He’s been a real gentleman.”
“Murdock? A gentleman?”
“What? Just because he’s nuts doesn’t mean he can’t be…”
“…a gentleman,” Face finished for her and she nodded.
“Well, as much of a gentleman as Murdock can be, I guess. It’s been kind of… fun.”
“Fun?” And Amy couldn’t see what Face’s problem was with this entire situation. It wasn’t like he was some horrible person who nobody would expect this kind of attitude. Maybe it was because they all spent so much time with him, or that they knew each other for so long. “Just you wait,” Face said, “it won’t be fun for much longer. I guarantee it.”
Amy didn’t quite believe him but she laughed and rolled her eyes, arms crossed over her chest, wiggling her fingers when Murdock jogged past them and waved.
It was five days before Amy finally got a chance to go home. The mission had run longer than expected, Face going too deep undercover for them to just simply break away and too many bruises, cuts and tears later (though Amy had to snicker over the fact that none of those tears had belonged to her) they were back in Los Angeles and Amy forgot that Murdock was staying with her until the two of them were left standing on a corner. She started walking towards where she parked and was startled and confused to see him following her, slapping her palm to her forehead when she recalled the reason.
The ride back to her apartment was strangely silent and they staggered inside, not bothering to turn on any of the lights and Amy made her way to the fridge, pulling out a jug of water and pouring herself a glass, doubling back to get one for Murdock who hadn’t even asked for one but looked like he needed it. It was only late afternoon, the sun still floating, heavy in the pale peach sky but they were both exhausted and, even though they turned on some terrible game show that neither of them knew any of the answers to (Murdock shouting out whatever came to his head, especially if it made no sense) Amy found herself drifting off ten minutes in and, by the twenty minute mark, she was fast asleep.
Amy woke up to an infomercial for some kind of special knife softly shouting at her on the television and she groggily glanced over to the clock on the wall, squinting and groaning when she saw it was only midnight. She knew she should have been more uncomfortable or startled that she and Murdock had fallen asleep next to one another but she was too disoriented to care, her stomach growling as she slipped to her feet, deciding to leave the television on just in case it was the only thing keeping Murdock snoozing.
The fridge temporarily blinded her and she shielded her eyes, digging around for something, anything that she could just quickly eat before pulling herself back to her bed to collapse for the rest of the night. She turned, arms full of deli meat, bread and a jar of mayonnaise, and screamed, a shadowed figure looming over her. The jar fell to the floor and immediately shattered, the rest of the food unharmed by the impact and Murdock let out a nervous laugh and a yelp and she could tell he was going to walk closer but she stuck out her hand.
“Don’t… there’s glass on the floor,” she narrowed her eyes, stepping over it best she could, flicking on one of the dimmer lights, the orange glow flooding the kitchen and she ran a hand through her hair, sighing at the mess she now had no choice but to clean up. “Dammit, Murdock,” she sighed, bending over to pick up the bread and meat to fling it onto the counter. Murdock looked genuinely upset and apologetic and his lips quivered like he might burst into tears. Amy said nothing, too tired and too on edge to try and be nice and instead she tore off piece after piece of paper towel and got to her knees, beginning to mop up the pale goop, knowing that she’d have to eventually scrub the floor so it didn’t begin to smell. She heard the sound of tearing and then running water and soon Murdock had joined her, following her movements and she glanced at him, so intent on doing whatever he could to fix what was, essentially, his fault.
“’M sorry,” he said sadly, sweeping up the glass into a small pile with his bare hands.
“Murdock, it’s okay. I’ve got this,” Amy said and he was breaking her heart and if it had been anyone else – like Face – she would have just assumed he was doing it on purpose for sympathy but this was Murdock and Murdock was hardly anything other than sincere, even when he wasn’t himself. He didn’t listen, picking up more paper towels, slopping up what he could, gagging slightly and she couldn’t blame him. Their heads were closer together, she could hear him breathing, and she reached over, grabbing him by the shoulder and then under the chin to get his attention, “really, Murdock.”
“I didn’t mean to scare you, Ms. Allen. I learned a long time ago how to be quiet when I walked and I guess I forgot how I always do it now.” In the background, the host began asking a series of stupid questions and then shouting back answers, encouraging the audience to scream the motto for the product back at him. Amy just smiled a little and continued wiping up the mayonnaise, pushing her hair behind her ears and she sniffled, not because she was upset but because the smell was getting to her. When she looked up, Murdock was still staring at her and she was about to ask what was wrong when he was leaning over and she barely had time to react before he was pushing his lips against hers.
It wasn’t insistent or rough but oddly sweet and careful and she kissed back because it felt nice and because for a few seconds she forgot it was Murdock and, when she remembered, she realized she didn’t care. She pulled back and they just blinked at each other and Murdock grinned, dipping his head down and Amy felt her cheeks flushing.
“I think we got it all,” Amy said, taking the hand Murdock offered her to help her to her feet and she threw the towels into the trash, listening as they thunked to the bottom. She was tempted to leave the rest until the daylight but she was there now so, begrudgingly, she picked up soap and a brush and was about to get set to work when Murdock lifted the items from her hands.
“I’ll do it,” he said, holding onto them tightly as if he didn’t plan to let it go if Amy tried to yank them away.
“But…”
“My fault. Anyway, I can’t sleep anymore. Billy’s been barking so much I can barely stand it. Seriously, I don’t know how you can take it. I don’t know what it is but he won’t stop.”
“Maybe,” and Amy couldn’t believe she was doing this but, a year ago, if somebody told her she would be traveling around and helping the A-Team, she wouldn’t have believed that either, “he’s scared.”
“Scared?”
“Well,” she swallowed, relaxing the best she could against the counter, “it’s all new. He got picked up and put in this apartment he doesn’t know and then his owner left him alone for almost a week in this new place and…” she was rambling and she quickly shut up, eyes flickering from where Murdock was glancing (where she assumed Billy was) and then to his face as he considered what she had to say.
“You’re probably right.”
“Are we going to talk about it?” Amy asked suddenly, wrapping her arms around herself as a chill appeared from apparently nowhere. Murdock stepped nearer like maybe he was going to hug her but he didn’t reach out or step any closer so she simply ignored it best she could.
“Talk about what?”
“About you kissing me.”
“I like you, Ms. Allen,” Murdock said, lowering his arms to his sides, the soap sloshing around in its container. Amy stumbled because she didn’t know what to say. She liked him too, liked him a lot but it was confusing because the guy was out of it ninety-nine percent of the time and she couldn’t tell when he was being Murdock or pretending to be someone else and all the veracity she had praised earlier couldn’t quite get her to entirely believe it was true.
“You do?”
“Sure I do. I wouldn’t have kissed you if I didn’t like you,” Murdock poked her nose like she was being just the silliest person he ever met, “you should go off to bed before you fall asleep standing up. I’ve done that before and it’s not as much fun as it seems like it will be,” he said, turning his back to her and inspecting the spot on the floor where he had to clean as if there were many ways to approach it other than just doing it. Amy silently swept up the glass that had so far remained left alone and then paused, just watching Murdock get down on his hands and knees, face mere inches from the tile as he hurriedly scrubbed back and forth.
She felt far from as tired as she should have been but she was in no mood to argue with a crazy man so instead she spun on her heels, leaning down to pat on her thighs.
“Come on, Billy,” she called, “let’s go to bed.” She heard Murdock chuckle and she waited until she had gone into her own room before putting her face in her hands. She knew that insanity wasn’t something you could catch but she still couldn’t quite fathom why she had done that. Maybe she was more exhausted than she thought.
She fell asleep half an hour later, listening to the distant sounds of a 1am kung-fu film, Murdock doing every voice, making up the dialogue as he went along.
Two months later and Murdock was still living with her. He struggled to get a job, something she constantly complained about until she came home from work one late night to see that her apartment had been cleaned so well that it sparkled. She figured that him doing the housework was good enough as payment for the moment.
The couch had turned back into a couch, sheets washed and folded up back in the closet. Murdock had accidentally pulled out the wrong blanket as he folded everything up and Amy all but snatched it away, a few days later confessing everything about her brother, crying harder than she ever had in a long time. She bought an extra pillow for Murdock and a dog bed for Billy, even though, most of the time, he (according to Murdock) found his way onto the bed with them most nights.
Face seemed to be the only one truly shocked when they showed up for one meeting hand in hand, Hannibal merely smiling and chewing on his cigar like he had seen this coming from miles away and B.A. shook his head, grumbling something about how if she wanted to screw up her life he supposed it was really up to her.
Murdock finally stopped calling her ‘Ms. Allen’ although, Amy had to admit, she missed it sometimes.
On their first official date, two months and three weeks after they had been living together, Murdock took her to a foreign language film and he told her to ignore the subtitles and spent the entire two hours speaking for the characters. He tried to get her to join in during the last half hour, but she was laughing so hard she could barely speak. When it was finished, she leaned over as the credits rolled and kissed him.
“I like you, Murdock,” she said, smiling.
“You do?”
“Sure I do, “she said, prodding him hard on the nose, “I wouldn’t have kissed you if I didn’t like you.”