48 New Wrinkles
Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.
Melody busied herself with helping the pilot to remove his shoes and socks as he sat on the edge of the bed. Murdock's small twitching smile at the corners of his mouth told Hannibal that the patient appreciated the feminine touch he was receiving. It was a good sign.
He's looking a lot better than when I dropped B. A. and him off at the emergency room. Now if only we can stay here without Jack and company or anyone else discovering our whereabouts . . .
Even so, Hannibal knew they all had to eat sometime. That meant he would have to leave the three injured members of their group alone or with B. A. standing watch. He might have to disguise himself while he shopped for food. As he thought that, his attention was drawn to the sulking con man who had taken a seat on the other bed.
I guess before I leave I should give him back his clothes. Maybe once Melody's done with Murdock, she can help Face get dressed in more than a bed sheet. It'll be a little compensation for what I did to make him stay here.
"Ow . . . ow . . . easy now, darlin' . . . " Murdock swayed slightly as Melody gently eased his jacket sleeve off his injured arm.
"I'm trying to be as careful as I can. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," she murmured as he squeezed his eyes shut and winced. "There, that's off. Now rest for a few seconds." She let him lean heavily on her, the side of his face against her belly. Tenderly, she stroked back his hair as he moaned softly.
Hannibal smirked and took the leather jacket from her. He carefully draped it over the back of a worn arm-chair, its gold nappy fabric-covered seat threadbare from several years of use. Murdock mumbled something that only Melody could hear and reached to grasp her free hand.
"Shhh, shhh," she whispered, her face crumpled in sympathy. A worried frown puckering her brow, she glanced at Hannibal. "He says his arm hurts really bad. Can't we do something?"
The Colonel wasn't sure if the Captain was exaggerating his pain for the benefit of getting more attention from her or not. He had to admit, Murdock's face was extremely pale.
But then, he was in surgery only a few hours ago. And from the way he vomited in the parking lot, the anesthesia didn't set well with him.
Meanwhile the Lieutenant adjusted his makeshift toga over his shoulder and smoothed the white cotton folds out around him. He morosely watched the young actress lavish attention on the injured pilot.
"Gee, if it hurts that much, Murdock, I'm sure Hannibal probably has some pills that'll help get rid of the pain. Don't you, Hannibal." The Colonel glanced at the con man again and saw the blue eyes glinting with jealousy.
I wonder if Murdock knows that if they weren't such good friends, Face would want to strangle him about now for getting all that attention.
"Aw, that's awright, buddy. Ya know I should be careful 'bout mixin' that stuff with my other meds but thanks fer worryin' 'bout li'l ol' me." The voice was weak but hinted of mischief.
Yeah, he probably does.
Ignoring the banter, Melody began to carefully thread the Captain's arm through the sleeve of his T-shirt. The pilot sucked in a sharp breath and knotted the bed covers in one tightly clenched hand.
"Ah'm okay. Ah'm . . . fine," he hissed out as she paused to check on him, the shirt still halfway on him. Her lips set in a firm line and her hands trembling, she finished the job.
Once the shirt was off, the actress let him sag against her. This time, Hannibal knew Murdock wasn't trying to fool Melody and get more sympathy.
He made a quick decision. Reaching in the pocket of his safari jacket, he pulled out two bottles of Demerol and tetracycline. "Here, Melody. I need to go out for a while and get something for all of us to eat. I'm leaving B. A. here to enforce whatever you decide these two need to do to recuperate. I suggest both of them spend some time resting in bed."
"But first . . . " Hannibal grinned at the Lieutenant. "Stand up, kid." To the Sergeant, he said, "B. A., lift up the mattress on that bed so Melody can get Face's clothes out for him." He tried to avoid the anguished look the con man gave him but he couldn't ignore the whining protest.
"Aw, Hannibal! Not under the mattress. Do you know how many wrinkles that suit jacket and those pants probably have in them by now? I'll look like I was in Murdock's duffel bag for a week and just crawled out."
"Hang 'em in th' bathr'm 'n' let th' steam take care o' it, buddy." Murdock's breathy, heavily drawled response got Hannibal's attention.
"B. A.!" He motioned with his head. Just in time B. A. caught the pilot under the arms as his eyelids drooped and he slowly crumpled forward off the bed and onto the floor.
The Sergeant lifted Murdock and laid him on his back on the bed.
After Melody tucked the blankets around the unconscious Captain, Hannibal handed her the medications. "One Demerol apiece for Face and Murdock. That is, when Murdock wakes up again. He can have one of the tetracycline, too, after he eats something."
The last thing the Colonel heard as he opened the door was Face grumbling. "Easy for him to say. The only thing that gets wrinkled in Murdock's bag are his khakis. My suits are made of imported fibers. You can't steam them and not ruin the fabric."
Hannibal smiled as he left.