Disclaimer: nothing recognizable is mine. No harm, no foul, no worries.
People. People everywhere. People shoving, people grabbing, people talking angrily.
People laughing.
Wait, that laughter is close, closer, closest—right here, right now, bubbling up from inside and filling the empty spaces and now it's run out of room inside and it's out. Out there for the shoving, grabbing, angry people to try to snatch up as well, along with all the other ridiculous trinkets and gewgaws filling their carts and hands and all the empty spaces inside them—
They don't have the laughter! They don't have tics and foibles and Billy and a pharmacy's worth of meds to fill them up! They have empty spaces too, and need things to fill them!
Oh, but if they found out the laughter would help, if they found out the laughter pushed outward and formed a Star Fleet quality deflector shield to encase and protect the laugher from external forces . . . oh, that would be bad. The people would turn, first just a few and then the whole mass of them, in perfect horror zombie style when our hero is attempting to sneak through and get away—and then they would reach out to take the laughter, strip it away and make him one of them, one of them, one of them—
Through the dull roar of the crowd, Face heard someone laugh. He knew instantly it was Murdock, somewhere to his left. His ear had been conditioned to pick up signs of the pilot's mental state, and this laugh that was becoming high pitched and borderline screechy was not a good thing.
What was I even thinking? Face berated himself as he dropped his packages unceremoniously to the floor and shoved his way through the mass of people to get to Murdock. I told him how it would be, how this stupid day always is . . . I should have told him no, he wasn't allowed to come with me . . .!
But Murdock insisted, said he should probably experience the feeling of being cattle at least once on this Unofficial Holiday of American Materialistic Consumerism (Face heard the capital letters in Murdock's voice when he said it), and Face relented.
Stupid, stupid mistake.
Still shoving and ignoring the swearing directed at him, Face finally made it to Murdock's side. The pilot hadn't collapsed onto the floor yet, which was fantastic, but he had his fingers locked into his hair and rocked a bit, still cackling. His eyes were screwed tightly shut.
Face didn't even try to untangle his hands from his head but slipped an arm around his waist, under his coat for closer contact, and turned him on his heel to start leading him against the tide of the throngs of people still cramming into the store. He wished he had Hannibal's aura of command or B.A.'s physical presence to make the people part in front of them; instead, he just had to put his shoulder into it and barrel his way through.
He still ignored the dirty looks and foul language.
Face didn't say anything to Murdock as they went, focused more on getting back out those doors and into the chill of the early morning. There would be no stars to see in the dark sky for Murdock to look up on—light pollution from the parking lot floodlights would kill them—but Face hoped just getting out of the undulating mass of people would be enough.
The outside air hurt his lungs for a moment as they finally pushed their way out. Face veered away from the line of people at one side of the door, taking Murdock a few paces down alongside the building before putting the pilot's back to the wall and standing in front of him.
He could be Murdock's deflector shield. He knew his lover used Star Trek technology as an analogy for self-protection, and he could do that for him.
Face didn't remove his arm from around the slender man's waist and pressed against him. He breathed into the open mouth that still uttered distressed little sounds. Murdock's laughter had melted when the sharp cold air invaded his body. Face could fill him with warmth.
"Murdock, Murdock, hey beautiful," Face murmured into him. "Can you open your eyes? Can you look at me?"
Carefully he reached upward and covered one of Murdock's hands with his own free one, and gently squeezed it.
"You can let go now, beautiful. We're safe. We're out here, and it's just you and me."
Face worked his fingers under Murdock's lightly, extracting the hair caught in the tight grip.
"Just you and me. Just you and me—" Face continued soothingly.
Murdock opened his eyes and dropped both hands from the sides of his head. He could just see the smile that replaced the concern on his lover's face before all detail was lost as Face pressed his forehead to his.
Murdock suddenly felt weak. He mumbled, "I'm sorry, Facey."
Face didn't pull back. "Don't be sorry, beautiful."
"I am sorry, I ruined—"
"Stop."
"But—"
Face didn't interrupt him with a word this time; he tipped his head and kissed him. Just the tip of his tongue slid over and between Murdock's lips. Murdock strained into it, a little, the tip of his own tongue reaching out and stroking against the velvet of Face's, then the two men broke away.
Face still didn't move back. He could tell Murdock was more at ease, and was smiling, now. His lover's slippery moods and the speed at which they changed could be disconcerting, but Face was more than pleased he was able to ground him again.
"That's the first time you kissed me in public," Murdock said, wonder flavoring his voice.
It was? It was, Face realized.
"You're right! And now I regret all the opportunities I wasted before this very moment," he replied.
Murdock chuckled; a real, sincere laugh that was nothing like the shrieky parody he'd produced in the store. Suddenly Face couldn't help but grin and laugh with him.
"Come on. Let's go home," the conman said, pulling Murdock off the brick wall.
"But your shopping—"
"Forget it. I've got all I need right here, and I want to get you home and back into bed, under the blankets, warm and cozy."
Murdock chuckled again and slipped his own arm around Face as the two left the crowds and the lights and everything else behind.
fin.