So... you think Murdock should talk with Face about his feelings? Hm. Let's see...

"Wow, what's that?" I hold up the t-shirt Face has unceremoniously dumped into my lap, and look at it.

"I saw it and couldn't resist. I knew you'd love this one." He gives me that irresistible smile of his.

'Out of my mind. Back in 5 minutes.' I read on the t-shirt. He's right, I love it already. I slip out of my jacket, shirt and plain white t-shirt while we speed down the street, and slip into my new t-shirt.

Has he just stolen a glance at me? – Nah, just wishful thinking, Ol' Howlin', not more.

"Have you lost weight?" he asks.

Oh, so he has been looking. "Maybe, just a little."

"Are you alright?" He slows down a bit and gives me an appraising look. "You're not ill, are you?"

"I'm fine." As fine as I'll get anyway. The only thing that could cure me would be a naked you next to a naked me.

"Murdock?"

"Really, Face. I'm as fine as I'm gonna get."

Oh shiiiit. He stops.

"Murdock, you know I hate it when you lie to me." He can look really stern when he sets his mind to it.

"Can't imagine why," I tell him coolly. "You lie to me all the time."

"What?!"

Ouch, I shouldn't have said that. Face usually does not lie to me. Not anymore for a very long time. "Sorry, didn't mean to say that."

"But you said it." He's hurt, and if I need any more proof of that, I get it when he starts the car again with screeching tires, and doesn't care much for the traffic that has to move out of the way for him.

"Face, I'm sorry." I tell him again, and I reach out to touch him lightly on the shoulder, but don't actually touch. It's surely not the best idea in the world to touch him considering the state I've been in recently. But something's stronger than me, and I put my hand down on his shoulder. Electricity jumps from him to my fingers and surges up my arm. I'm not sure he feels it. Maybe just because he's so angry right now. – Yeah sure. Just more wishful thinking.

"You shouldn't have said that."

"I know, and I'm sorry." Hopefully, if I just repeat it often enough, he'll believe me.

He brings the car to a stop again, and turns to look at me. "Why did you?" he asks heatedly. "I'm trying my best to... to... you know, to keep it good between us, but you're getting weirder and weirder. I don't know what's up anymore."

Oh, swell. He noticed. Well, of course he did. He's not stupid. He picks up on the finest notions, even if he's not always able to make sense of them. – Like now.

"Murdock, for heaven's sake, talk to me!" He bangs the wheel in frustration, and looks away, at the traffic rushing by.

All I'm left with is watching his profile, getting lost in the curve of his cheek, the shape of his earlobe, the line of his neck...

He looks back at me. "Murdock..."

"Hm?" I know I should say something more, and it's there, in my mind, but I can't make the connection from brain to mouth.

"Murdock, what's wrong? What happened?" He looks at me so intensely, I nearly melt under his glance. "Why are things so... I don't know, things are so different between us. We used to be more relaxed around each other. – Murdock, hey, I'm talking to you!" He sounds like he's going to lose his patience any second now.

"That why you conned me out?" I ask, and I fear my voice has a distinct dreamy quality about it. Not because our conversation is anything to become dreamy about, but because he's here, and I'm so close to him, and the sun is shining, and he's shining in the sun, and he's so close, and I want to get even clo–

"No."

I force myself to listen to him. Listen to what he says, and not just the tone of his voice. God Almighty, but I'm soooo deep into deep shit. I'm far worse than a teenager in love for the first time. Maybe that's because I'm a certified nut.

He drops his shoulders, and looks down into his lap. "Yes, maybe. Why can't it be like it used to be?" He looks back at me; earnestly.

Face cares.

That comes as a bit of surprise. I never realized that I might be more to Face than the weird guy he hangs out with when he fails to snatch a girl for himself, or – for unfathomable reasons – doesn't feel like it. I mean, I know he cares, just not on a so personal level, not in the sense of friendship like I understand it. I always thought that to him I'm just a buddy. We trust each other with our lives, but not our emotions; typical men's friendship.

And now that. This new revelation makes me love him even more.

"Murdock, you still there?" He leans over a bit. He looks concerned, inquisitive, expectant.

He looks sexy.

He smells even sexier. Face uses a light aftershave, a fresh, spicy scent, and then there's his personal smell. I've always felt he smells a bit of cinnamon. Cinnamon and wet wood. Creamy. Okay, you probably can't smell creamy, but Face does. It's what pops into my mind when I think of his smell. He smells of cinnamon, wet wood and creamy. Creamy cinnamon, wet wood with creamy cinn–

"Murdock, hey!" He leans over a bit more.

And I do the unthinkable.

I close the distance between us, and press my lips onto his.

I don't know why he parts his lips, but he does, probably just in shock, and since I've already gone that far, I can easily go the rest of the way. My tongue slips through the gap, and I graze past his teeth to touch the tip of his tongue.

It's ...

... sweet.

The world is a completely different one when I draw back, although not more than a couple of seconds could have gone by.

"Mur..." He painfully clears his throat. "Mur..." he tries again, but his voice still deserts him. He blinks furiously. He doesn't understand, not at all. He's so flustered he doesn't even frown.

And I? I feel like burning up in the seat next to him with embarrassment. What the fucking hell was I thinking? What have I done? What... How could I betray him so?

"Don't..." He breathes heavily with the emotional shock I've no doubt given him. "Don't." He hardly has a voice, it's more of a stage whisper. "Ever." He's unable to form a full sentence, not even this very short one. He doesn't even stutter. Usually, when Face gets worked up over something, he stutters. I've shocked Face into losing not only his sentences, but his stutter as well.

Great, just fucking great. Murdock, you're such a dope, the entire world could get high from your fumes, if only they lit you.

"I'm so sorry, Face, I'm so sorry," I mutter before I blindly reach for the door handle, climb from his corvette and flee. There aren't enough sorrys in the world to make up for this. Never, never. I screwed up. I could tell him nothing but sorry for the rest of my life and it wouldn't even start to make up. Oh, shit, shit, shit. I... lost him. I'm so fucking stupid. Oh Face, I'm so sorry, so sorry, so sorry, sorry. Sorry.

He doesn't follow me.

Not that I expect him to, although, admittedly, it would be nice. Even if it were just for the dressing down I deserve, a waterfall of infuriated words, insults, accusations, even a fist between my eyes. Anything. Just anything to show me he and I are still connected. Somehow.

I'm sick.

I fight my way away from him, and I can't help thinking that he should be satisfied with me. After all, I used the door, and didn't just climb over it, leaving dirty shoe prints on his seats...

I hear footsteps behind me. Is it...?

But it's just a jogger who gives me an odd look, and surely forgets about me the moment he's past me.

TBC