Author's Note: This is the first time I've written for the original series...so I hope I did everyone justice. This story was amazingly fun to write, though, and it's my homage to the 80s in general. Hope you enjoy!
There was a reason the crazy fool never sat up front. Distractions and questions were inevitable and came in the only variety available from said fool: strange. B.A. really didn't know what to do in the event of a UFO sighting, and he really didn't care. All he worried about was not running into the impossibly tall saguaro cactuses that appeared out of the darkness ahead in the van's headlights. But his passenger was still on about something ridiculous; that relentless jibber-jabber that came flying out of his mouth morning, noon and night. B.A. had even heard him talk in his sleep.
"I don't see how these flyin' saucers can fly. Do they spin real fast or do they just hover and then float?"
B.A. gripped the steering wheel tightly. "They ain't real, Murdock."
The pilot frowned at him, shoulders sagging. He leaned back against the window, staring critically at the new-found skeptic.
"Now, B.A., you can't believe that we're the only intelligent beings in this universe."
"Don't matter what I believe. But if little green men abduct you, at least it'd be quieter 'round here!"
Murdock made a face, crossing his arms like a scolded child. B.A. focused on the long stretch of desert ahead of them, wincing as the van lurched over a few hills of sand. The transmission and the shocks had just been adjusted and he really didn't want to push the old girl more than he had to; another jump across a bridge or, say, flying down the hills of San Francisco, and that would mean the end of the front axel…
"You ever hear that Johnny Carson bit?" Murdock's voice broke into his thoughts and B.A. growled to himself. "Y'know, the one with the World War Two pilots? The first time they saw one, they screamed at it- 'You, F.O!'"
Murdock fell into giggles, rocking forward in his seat. B.A. glared at him, but the wide loony smile still remained on the pilot's face. He shook his head, nosily chomping on his chewing gum.
"Ah, I love it."
"You better shut up or I just might leave you here!"
Murdock looked over at him, a strangely admonishing expression across his face.
"Hannibal wouldn't like that. He needs a pilot. And I know you don't like gettin' yelled at by the Colonel."
B.A. huffed. Murdock smiled again, still chewing on his gum. Hannibal really owed him for driving out to a hiding place in the middle of the desert, with no one but Murdock to keep him company. But they had to be careful, especially with Decker getting so close. He turned the van and growled a sigh, looking at the glittering outline of the city through the windshield. Hopefully everything would take fifteen or twenty minutes like Hannibal had promised.
But something told him that wasn't going to happen.
"It's more fun talkin' to Face about UFOs, anyway," Murdock went on, "He's scared of 'em."
B.A. had to chuckle at that. "Right."
"I'm serious. He gets all creeped out, starts complaining he'll have nightmares. It's really funny."
Murdock fidgeted in his seat as the van pulled to a stop, a cloud of sand spurting up from the tires. The brakes squeaked slightly and the motor finally ceased its constant growl. As B.A. took the keys from the ignition, the pilot fiddled with his safety belt, nearly cracking his nose on the metal clasp as it went sliding back into the wall. B.A. shook his head and leaned back in his seat, staring at the distant city lights.
He never worried about Hannibal or Face, and he didn't mind the waiting. But usually he spent most of the waiting with the Colonel and not the crazy fool sitting beside him, blowing bubbles in his chewing gum. That made him uneasy, thus leading to the worry.
Murdock had soon busied himself with the zipper on his jacket, zipping it up and down repeatedly as he loudly gnawed on the gum. He presently placed both Converse sneakered feet up on the dash and leaned against the window to look up at the stars. He frowned thoughtfully as B.A. clenched his jaw.
"Do you remember what makes 'em shine like that?"
"No, but I'm gonna slap you upside the head if you don't get your stinkin' feet off the dashboard!"
Murdock fixed him with that bizarre smile once again, flicking his ball cap to the top of his head.
"Bosco, have you forgotten your manners? What's the magic word?"
B.A. scowled and shoved the pilot's shoes from the surface. "Now."
Murdock pouted. "You're no fun."
B.A. tried to scrub the streaks of dirt from the interior and was even more displeased to find that he couldn't. He slumped back against his seat, still scowling. The two of them managed to sit in silence for roughly three minutes, though Murdock couldn't sit still. He tapped out a rhythm with his shoes, and moved to blow another bubble in his gum. Unfortunately, it didn't quite work; he literally spat a minty ball of the stuff on to his chest, right on the yellow lettering spelling out 'Star Wars.' B.A. rolled his eyes and rubbed his chin with his hand. As Murdock carefully removed the gum from his t-shirt he asked,
"Turn on the radio would ya? I'm bored."
B.A. was doubtful, cringing as he watched the pilot pop the gum back into his mouth, wiping his hands on his khakis.
"Please? If you don't, I'll bring out Lefty and he can talk to you instead."
B.A. shook his head and considered. As far as he knew, there weren't any songs that sent Murdock into some kind of wild man rant, made him talk to invisible dogs or bugs or whatever else he managed to create in that loopy brain of his. And at this point in time, anything was better than listening to him talk to a sock. B.A. pursed his lips and heaved a sigh.
"All right. But no actin' crazy, understand?"
Murdock nodded eagerly. "Uh huh, uh huh. You got it."
B.A. turned the keys in the ignition to click on the battery and Murdock reached over to click on the radio. He clapped his hands happily as the familiar chirp of a keyboard and a drum machine suddenly sounded through the speakers.
"Ooh! I love the "The Safety Dance!""
B.A. cringed. "I don't."
Murdock looked most disappointed as static filled their ears. He pushed away the driver's hand and fiddled with the dial himself.
"At least let me flip it!"
Another song came on through the mess of radio chatter, this time a slow, almost eerie combination of slow drums and a whining guitar. B.A. frowned; Murdock's eyes widened.
"Aw, this is "In the Air Tonight!" Ever watch Miami Vice? I always joke Faceman is Crockett and that you're Tubbs…"
B.A. shook his head; the sound was too weird for him, but Murdock's hand hovered protectively over the dial as he listened, one ear pressed close to the speaker. The singer's voice was a monotone, echoing mess, but for some reason the pilot seemed to like it. He was even singing along, snapping his fingers to the beat.
"'Well the hurt doesn't show/but the pain still grows/ it's no stranger to you and me'-"
B.A. abruptly hit Murdock's hand and the station changed. The latter made a bizarre, surprised squawking noise.
"Aw, for the love of peanut butter- that was the best part!" he hissed.
"It was gettin' on my nerves," B.A. grunted, "Let's look for something else."
Murdock twisted the dial, sticking his tongue out slightly as he searched through the static and horrid country stations to find something worth listening to. He swatted away B.A.'s hand, still tuning the radio.
"Why don't you go back to doin' what you're supped to? I'll find us something amidst all this country crap."
"What else is there for me to do, fool? This is my van-"
Murdock fished in his jacket pocket, one hand still turning the dial. "What's that, buddy? You want to talk to B.A. now?"
He grabbed Murdock's arm, shaking his head. The pilot looked up at him, one eyebrow quirked.
"You don't want to talk to him, do you?"
"Hell no."
Murdock looked down at the massive paw that still held tight to his arm. He wiggled the fingers of his free hand dismissively.
"Then unhand me, brute."
B.A. growled threateningly, but released his hold. Murdock granted him a tight-lipped smile and went back to surfing the airwaves, no doubt enjoying the fact he actually had the upper hand in this mind game. Though B.A. had no problem throwing him out the window and leaving him in the desert, but that would be too hard to explain to Hannibal. So he clenched his jaw again and crossed his arms over his chest, looking out the windshield as the radio sputtered static and nonsense, mostly in the form of commercials. For whatever reason Murdock paused on a commercial for Fig Newtons and listened to it all the way through. B.A. leaned forward on the steering wheel and stared at the city lights once more. A song finally came over the speakers.
"Here ya go. Some nice Duran Duran."
Murdock looked up at him for confirmation. B.A. slowly shook his head and the former heaved an exasperated sigh.
"Why you gotta be so picky?" He paused to stare thoughtfully at the dial, chewing on his fingernail. "All right. Here's what I'm gonna do. It'll be like Wheel of Fortune."
He spun the little button and a cacophony of stations blared throughout the van until finally settling on something clear and without static. A cowbell sounded, followed by driving guitars. Murdock's eyes lit up and he bounced in his seat as the song played on. B.A. groaned.
"All right!" Murdock whooped, "How appropriate!"
B.A. gritted his teeth, but decided it was best to listen to this song as opposed to more commercials. He leaned against the door and balanced his chin on his fist as Murdock flailed around in his seat, singing the lyrics, wondering what he had done to Hannibal to deserve this.
"'Everybody's workin' for the weekend!/ Everybody wants a little romance/ Everybody's goin' off the deep end/everybody needs a second chance- oh'!"
B.A. closed his eyes as Murdock continued singing.
"Oh my god…"
He was thankful they were out in the middle of the desert at that moment, knowing if they weren't he would have been mortified to be in the same car with this man. Murdock suddenly grabbed his arm and howled in his ear.
"C'mon baby- let's go!"
B.A. shoved him-quite roughly in fact- back into his seat, but the other man was unfazed, proceeding to launch into an air guitar solo. He fell back into the seat, at the same time pulling the lever back on the side and the entire chair leveled out. Murdock unexpectedly somersaulted backward and landed in the back of the van, his hat flying from his head, still in the midst of his "guitar solo." B.A. found himself in a moment of awe before snapping back into his agitated state.
"What the hell you doin'? Get back up here before I kill you!"
Murdock forgot about his air guitar and launched himself back into the front seat, grabbing B.A. by the shoulders.
"C'mon, big boy- sing it! You know you want to."
"Get off me, man- you're crazy!"
Murdock cackled. "Duh!"
B.A. pushed him back into the passenger's seat, watching as he continued singing at the top of his lungs.
"You want a piece of my heart/You better start from the start…"
Murdock leaned back and kicked his legs, banging his head. B.A. spent the rest of the song trying to get Murdock to stop singing, but he just kept getting louder and louder. He left dirty footprints on the upholstery and whooped like an idiot, at times literally bouncing off the walls. B.A. leaned over to make a grab for his arm, accidentally turning the volume up to a near-piercing level.
The song was still playing when Hannibal and Face arrived.
They opened the door to see B.A. had captured Murdock in a headlock, and for some reason the latter was choking out the lyrics to "Working for the Weekend."
"I'mma kill you for real this time, lunatic!" B.A. bellowed.
Face reached into the passenger's seat to turn down the music. Hannibal chewed on the end of his cigar as normal, frowning as Murdock gurgled,
"C'mon…baby…let's…go."
Face had appeared at Hannibal's shoulder and winced as Murdock struggled.
"Well, don't hurt yourself, Colonel. I guess I'll save him this time."
Hannibal smiled and nodded as the younger man hopped into the van to pry B.A.'s arm away from around Murdock's neck. The pilot gasped and coughed, falling against Face. Hannibal leaned his shoulder against the jamb of the van's side door and raised his eyebrows.
"What happened, B.A.?"
"That sucker near destroyed my van! I just put on some music and he went insane!"
Murdock pulled himself upright, pushing against Face's shoulder.
"I was playin' the guitar, B.A.! Music gets me on the jazz- you knew that."
"No I didn't!" he replied threateningly, reaching for his throat once again.
Murdock gave a start and practically hugged Face, who shook his head. Hannibal chuckled, sitting on the floor of the van.
"I knew that, Murdock," Face corrected, "I was the one."
The pilot looked up at him, and recognition came to his eyes.
"Oh…Oh yeah! That's right- that one time when we were drivin' around singing "Roadhouse Blues!" I remember."
Hannibal raised his eyebrows interestedly. Face let out an embarrassed laugh, pushing Murdock away from him.
"Uh…right."
Hannibal turned back to the still-scowling B.A. and reassuringly squeezed his shoulder.
"I think maybe you should cut Murdock some slack on this one."
"Yeah!" The pilot broke in. "Yeah, you should! I plead innocence!" He scooted toward B.A. on his knees and grabbed his arm pleadingly. "Don't kill me today, all right? Next time, maybe. But not today!"
B.A. wrenched his arm from his grip, still glaring at him. Murdock threw his arms over his head to protect himself from a flying fist, but thankfully, no hit came. B.A. slumped back behind the wheel and Hannibal tapped his shoulder a few times.
"Not today," the former growled, "But next time. And Hannibal-"
He grinned. "Yeah, B.A.?"
"Don't ever leave him alone with me again. Take him with you next time. Leave Face, leave me alone- I don't care. But never again!"
A puff smoke coiled into the air and Hannibal dipped his head in agreement.
"I think that can be arranged."
Murdock snorted, and for the first time that night, B.A. smiled.