Disclaimer: No recognizable characters are mine.
Note: Very slowly I'm filling in histories. This fic sits within the A-Team arc created earlier on this site; it takes place after "Paper Roses" and before "Because It Is Bitter...". Therefore, it contains an OC, and rating is because of some adult situations Murdock may get himself into later on.
Enjoy!
Here he was again. He'd be creepy if he wasn't so innocent looking.
Murdock scanned the thin shelves, pausing occasionally to run fingertips over certain glossy titles or photographs.
He never pick up the magazines unless he meant to buy them, and he was very deliberate in his selections, focused on the task at hand while ignoring other patrons and generalized hubbub in the small space.
Finally he added the American Kennel Club Gazette to the bundle in the crook of his arm that already contained Martha Stewart Living, Teen Vogue, The Economist, Writer's Digest, and Mental Floss, and carried his prizes over to the counter for check out.
The mid-day rush was over, he realized. The people on their lunch break, buying snacks and caffeine to get them through the rest of their day, had scurried back to their offices and cars. It was just him and the clerk here now. As he walked up, she guiltily put down a microwave tray of something under the counter and wiped her mouth.
"Sorry," she apologized, nodding towards the now hidden dish. "I was supposed to get a lunch break, but my co-worker never showed up today."
Murdock shrugged a little to show he didn't care. He did care, however, that whatever she was eating smelled like bland Indian curry.
"You read a lot, huh?" the clerk continued, typing in the barcode numbers of the magazines into the cash register.
"Excuse me?"
"You buy a lot of magazines. Different ones too," she elaborated, indicating the titles. "I'd say maybe you were going around stocking doctor's offices, but they never have anything interesting like Mental Floss or dog ones. Usually it's just Reader's Digest and stuff old people like to read."
He chuckled and agreed. He hadn't known she'd notice and mark him as returning multiple times recently. Hannibal wouldn't like that; Bossman always wanted them to be inconspicuous and forgettable. But the team was stuck here for a while, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't realize he came into this tiny store specifically when she was working—
"Are you eating bad Indian food?" he asked. "Would you like some real curry?"
And that was how he met Kerry.
He explained how he lived with three other guys, and even though she typically didn't invite strangers over to her place immediately, he offered to cook her dinner and she scribbled down her address and phone number on one of the magazine covers he'd bought.
It would be okay, she reasoned. Her roommate was home for the evening; there was protection in numbers.
When she answered the knock on her door that night, she found Murdock juggling three grocery bags crammed full of ingredients on her stoop. Laughing, she took one of the bags—it was heavy but the lightest of the three, he insisted—and invited him in.
Murdock immediately commandeered the kitchen. Kerry was honestly surprised there was no bottle of wine in either of the bags; he explained he usually didn't drink and he knew it was odd, but wine didn't go with Indian because the food didn't traditionally pair with wine and therefore grape juice's acidity once it fermented wasn't accounted for to have a properly balanced meal, and it was best to not have it.
He promised salted mango lassis instead.
Kerry laughed again, and said that those would be perfect.
They chatted and didn't have many self-conscious pauses so common when meeting someone for the first time. Kerry's roommate wandered out of her room at one point, was introduced, grimaced at the smells coming off the top of the stove, and announced she was going out.
By then Kerry didn't mind she would be home alone with basically a stranger.
It didn't seem strange, though; he put her at ease and they laughed at each other's jokes. She tried to help but realized she was out of her league in the cooking arena. He had her puree the mangoes for the drinks while he put the finishing touches on dinner, then piled the small table high with the different chutneys and curries and vegetables he made.
They ate with the same companionable comfortableness.
There were a lot of leftovers, of course, and she insisted he take some with him; he insisted on not, because there wasn't enough to feed everyone else. Eventually she told him that if it was not enough for them but too much for her, he would have to come back over and eat again.
Murdock didn't hesitate as he agreed, and then hoped he didn't sound too eager.
He also insisted on helping with the dishes. Kerry didn't dissuade him from that, and between the two of them, the kitchen was clean in short order.
Then came the inevitable awkwardness when he made to leave. Murdock wasn't sure what was proper, did she expect him to kiss her? Was that too forward? Did she consider this a date? Did he? He should have grilled Face on what to do.
Kerry solved his dilemma by thanking him for a delicious meal, opening the door for him, and squeezing his hand the briefest of seconds.
She made him promise he'd be back to finish the leftovers—he did—and then she eased him out the doorway.
No kiss.
That was okay. She was nervous too.
