A/N: Hey! I'm so sorry for the delay on this one, I was caught up in my other stories. This chapter is kinda short and just silly. It's not supposed to be taken seriously, so just enjoy it's silliness haha! Review please! Thank you!

6. My China!

Face wandered into the kitchen for a drink, wondering if this mission was a dud. Murdock was in there with a can of Budweiser and a bowl of Ravioli.

"Hey, buddy." Face greeted as he opened the fridge.

"Heya. What'cha up to, Face?"

Face shrugged. "Nothing," He got out a water bottle and sat down opposite the pilot. He noticed an open book beside the bowl and tapped it. "What're you reading there?"

"Book about Amelia Earhart," Murdock told him. "She is awesome! I with I could've met her and flown with her."

The conman tilted his head. "Have they ever found her plane yet?"

Murdock shook his head, looking both upset and excited.

"Oh. Shame." Face murmured. He stood and got out a fork, going back to the table and taking a bite of the ravioli. "Hey! Facey, that's mine." Murdock chuckled.

Face chewed, shrugged, and took a swig of water. "I'll get'cha a bowl if you're that desperate." Murdock stated in an annoyed tone.

"No, I just wanted to bug you." Face raised his eyebrows and set his fork down. Murdock grabbed up the bowl and got to his feet. "Well I'm through." He said and turned to go to the sink when his foot tangled with his other foot and he went down. The bowl went flying across the kitchen. As the pilot hits the floor, the bowl smacked against the top cabinet, leaving a mess of the red sauce. It then hit the counter, let a whole other mess, rolled and fell to the floor. Three messes, all in a line.

Face sat, gawking, and Murdock was frozen on the floor. Hannibal was very proud of his house, it had been in his family for generations. He had specifically informed the team that any mess making will happen outside and outside only. The two were as quiet as the dead, then-

"Oh shit! Oh my God! What do we do?" Face shot out of the chair in a blur.

Murdock got to his knees, crawling over to the cracked bowl on the floor. "Get a towel! And hurry!" He ordered.

While Face sprinted from the room, Murdock lifted the bowl up and held it over the sink. Face came back with a blanket in his hands. "That's not a towel!" Murdock screeched.

"It was all I could find. Now move!" Face started on the cabinet. "Put the bowl down and help me."

Murdock let the bowl slip through his fingers and it shattered in the sink. Face froze, his eyes wide. The pilot had his shoulders hunched, his lips trembling, not believing he really just did that. "Oops." He whispered.

"Please, God. Please tell me it was not the bowl," Face muttered, squeezing his eyes shut. He felt Murdock kneel at his side and rub at the white flooring. "Um, Face. It's staining."

The conman glared at his friend. He spoke through his teeth, "Then get, a, mop."

"On it!" Murdock got right up and dashed out of the room. He returned with a mop and floor soap. "Squirt it on the mess." Face said, standing back. The pilot held the bottle over the saucy mess and squeezed, but nothing came out. "Hmm," He held it up. "That's weird."

Face snatched it out of his hands and shook it, pointed at Murdock and squeezed. A long stream of white soap flew right into the pilot's face.

"Hey! It worked." Face grinned. Murdock growled and sprung at Face, knocking him onto his back. The bottle got in between the two and pretty soon floor soap layered the entire kitchen. And when Face got Murdock in a headlock, laughing, there was the furious intake of breath in the doorway.

They both looked up and saw Hannibal glaring down at them while B.A. hid his mouth behind his hand.

Face and Murdock looked at each other, faces falling helplessly as they clutched each other's shoulders, knowing they were in trouble. "Aw man..."