- “HOW DO I SAY I LOVE YOU?”
-
-
- Title: "How Do I Say I Love You?"
- Rating: PG
- Author/Copyright: © 2003 Isabel Florence
- E-Mail: isabelsparlour@yahoo.com.au
- Type: Light Slash/Romance/Sap
- Pairing: Face/Murdock
- Status: Complete (Slightly revised from the original
posting).
- Chronology: 1983
- Summary: Face musing one night about his feelings for
Murdock, thinking about how hard he finds it to say the words, "I
Love You." Murdock reflecting about nearly losing Face the day
before and thinking about his love for Face. Face and Murdock
alternating POV.
- Warnings: Light Slash. Consensual male/male facial
touching and kissing. A lot of Sap and Romance. Some Angst. Main
character hurt/injury (not too bad and it's relevant to the advent
of the story). References to past, off stage violence (not
graphic). Mild profanity.
- Disclaimer: I do not own the A-Team characters, and am
making no profit from this story, which is a work of fan fiction
only. The A-Team characters solely belong to Universal, Frank Lupo
and Stephen J. Cannell, and I thank them for their
existence.
- Thanks &
Acknowledgements: I swear; this fan fiction has gone through more
drafts than the Magna Carta. Therefore, I deeply thank Witchbaby,
Sharon Price, Val Thomas, Strangebird, Pam, Goldfox and Monte for
Beta reading this fiction, and for all your valuable comments,
advice and suggestions. Thank you all. :o)
- Featured End
Song: "Love
Changes Everything". Vocals performed by British singer/actor
Michael Crawford from the Andrew Lloyd Webber musical, "Aspects of
Love."
- Comments?: Yes, Sure. :o)
-
-
- *~*~* PART ONE *~*~*
-
-
- "I love
you."
-
- Three
simple words on the face of it, but oh, God, so hard to say, so
very, very hard to say. Even when you mean them, and feel them
with every atom of your being, they're still so damn hard to
say.
-
- Easier to
show, to express by deeds and action, than to vocalize.
-
- Easier to
hope the other person gets your drift through what you do for them
and with them. Through the way you look at them and all those
little things you do, without the need to say the words, 'cause
the words, oh, the words are so damn hard to say.
-
- At least
for me.
-
- I
wish...
-
- But you
know what they say about wishes and horses...
-
- It's not
that I don't try. I do. Sometimes I even manage it.
-
- Awkwardly...
-
- But not
lately.
-
- It's
easier to hide behind a charming smile and bantering words than to
vocalize the deeper feelings.
-
- Easier to
say, "Me too," or "You too," or "I feel the same."
-
- Anything
but the actual words.
-
- Maybe
there's a part of me afraid to give that little bit more. Afraid
to give, in case someday the words, and the love, are thrown back
in my face, as they have been before. Enough times for the
barricades to be more than firmly fortified.
-
- But he
chips away, patiently; sure that one-day the walls will come
tumbling down.
-
- Like
water over rock.
-
- Stripping
away my defenses, ever so slowly baring my soul.
-
- He
doesn't seem to be afraid that I'll turn and run from us. I've a
track record, after all. The words commitment and relationship
alone have, in the past, been enough to see me back-pedalling
faster than the other person could take a second breath, let alone
move to stop me.
-
- But that
was then.
-
- This is
now.
-
- That was
countless, often nameless women, whose names I never bothered to
memorize, whose bodies fulfilled my physical needs, if rarely the
spiritual and psychological ones.
-
- This is
Murdock.
-
- And this
time I want to stay.
-
- Need to
stay.
-
- Long to
stay.
-
- Not since
Leslie have I felt this way for another human being. Such love.
Such deep intensity of love. Like he fills my entire
universe.
-
- But still
I can't say the words.
-
- What if
someday he leaves me?
-
- After
all, she did.
-
- After
all, they all have, over time.
-
- He stirs
beside me. Warm against my side.
-
- We
haven't made love tonight; my injuries prevent that. It still
hurts to breathe. Cracked ribs will do that to you. And let's not
forget the concussion, which is sending interesting ripples of
nausea through me, accompanied by a pounding headache. Only the
thought of waking him is keeping me quiet. Feeding me
strength.
-
- I woke up
a little earlier in our bed, wondering which truck had hit me.
Then, remembering the events of yesterday, had trembled at how
close I'd come to losing him.
-
- Too
close.
-
- Oh dear
God.
-
- Yesterday...
-
- Today and
all my, all our, tomorrows would have been shattered if
yesterday...
-
- But then,
yesterday I'd acted, without hesitation, stepping between Murdock
and the goons using him as a punching bag, willing to take the
heat off him, almost unconsciously willing to die for
him.
-
- Giving
him the time and space to catch his breath.
-
- Giving BA
and Hannibal time to get to us before we both went
down.
-
- More
actions proving my love, my commitment, even my fear of losing
him.
-
- My last
sight of him had been the shocked horror in his eyes, as whatever
the bastards were using for a weapon crashed into the side of my
head, tipping me into darkness.
-
- My first
sight of him when I woke hours later, as my fuzzy vision focused
on his face, had been his worried and fearful, relief-tinged
eyes.
-
- "I love
you, Faceguy," he'd whispered softly, his words a
caress.
-
- "I know,"
I'd replied, smiling thinly, as consciousness had slipped away
again.
-
- Now here
I lay, wide awake, in pain, but glad to be alive. Reveling in the
warmth of his body curled next to mine, and wondering, ever
wondering, why I find it so damn hard to say the words.
-
- Those
three little words which mean so much.
-
- I love
you.
-
- Rolling
to prop myself up on one elbow, pushing down the pain the move
causes my ribs, I gaze down into his well-loved face. The
moonlight from the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows - a bonus in
the penthouse suite - is dancing across his peaceful countenance,
making him look serene in the ethereal light.
-
- In spite
of his thinning hair and lanky build, he's a handsome, attractive
man.
-
- His eyes
are the most expressive I've ever seen in a man or a woman. Every
emotion he feels lives vibrantly in those eyes, making his face an
open book for anyone to read. Sometimes when he locks his eyes
with mine, the warmth of their brown depths boring into me, I feel
as if I'm falling into a bottomless well. It's all I can do
sometimes to tear my eyes and self away from their mesmerizing
intensity.
-
- Sometimes
I don't.
-
- Sometimes
I can't.
-
- Sometimes
I let myself just fall right in.
-
- It's his
smile, though, that really transforms him. He has one of the most
beautiful smiles I've ever had the pleasure of experiencing. It
lights up his entire face and sets fire to his eyes.
-
- Blinding
in its intensity.
-
- Breathtaking in its beauty.
-
- I'd do
anything to be blessed by that smile. Have done anything.
Everything, really.
-
- It's like
a reward.
-
- Like the
warmth of sunshine on a bitterly cold winter day. I think I'd go
to hell and back, if it meant Murdock's smile were to be my
reward.
-
- In fact I
have, I will, and I do.
-
- All of
the above.
-
- But still
I can't say the words.
-
- Now
softly, my touch feather-light, I draw my fingers down his face,
from temple to cheek.
-
- Does he
know how much I love him?
-
- How could
he if I rarely say the words?
-
- Sometimes
he looks at me expectantly, and I wonder, is he waiting for the
words? Is he wondering, 'Does he love me? Truly love me?' Is he
regretting our partnership? Is he longing for more than I seem to
be capable of giving him?
-
- Or...
does he know how much I love him? Know the sweet ache in my heart
every time I look at him, the near-agony of love every time he
touches me, how willing I am to sacrifice everything I am,
everything I could be, or might want to be, for him?
-
- Does he
know?
-
- I hope
so.
-
- But then
again, maybe I hope he doesn't, because then wouldn't he know too
much?
-
- His face
is shining in the moonlight, inviting. Carefully leaning over him,
suppressing a groan of pain at the movement of my tortured ribs, I
brush my lips lightly across his, barely touching them, just
needing to feel closer for a moment.
-
- The
warmth and tenderness in my heart is so strong it's nearly
overwhelming, taking my breath away with it, momentarily chasing
away the pain of injured ribs and pounding head.
-
- Caressing
his cheek with my fingers, I kiss him again, a little more
firmly.
-
- Drawing
back, I let myself bask in the tilt of his lips as he smiles in
his sleep.
-
- "I love
you," I whisper after a bit, knowing he can't hear me, saying the
words anyway. "I hope you know that. I hope you know."
-
- Unable to
take the pain to my battered body any longer, I quietly ease back
onto the bed, trembling a little, breathing shallowly, waiting for
the pain to subside again.
-
- Maybe
someday, I'll be able to say those words to him while he's
awake.
-
- Fingers
brush lightly against mine, as he repositions himself beside me.
Suddenly, warm brown eyes are peering down into my own, dark in
the moonlit room. As always, stealing my breath away.
-
- "I know,"
he murmurs simply, a smile tugging at the corners of his
mouth.
-
- "You know
what?" I ask hesitantly. Surely he didn't hear me a moment
ago?
-
- "Facey, I
just know!" His smile is warmer now, his hand caressing my hair.
"You don't have to say the words, Faceguy. I know all the answers.
It's okay."
-
- Have I
talked about his voice yet? It's as warm as his eyes, nearly as
warm as his smile. There's something soothing about it. His
uncanny gift with mimicry gives him the ability to change the
tones of his voice as he sees the need, even with me. But it's his
Texan drawl I love the best. The warmth and life in it warm my
soul.
-
- He's
speaking naturally to me now, his drawl soft and warm; the love
evident in his words, in his actions, in his moonlit, glittering
eyes.
-
- Do I
deserve this, deserve him, really?
-
- He's
crazy, but it's a good crazy, and I love him.
-
- Reaching
up, I touch his cheek with my fingertips.
-
- "I love
you," I breathe. Finally saying the words, barely making a sound
in the room.
-
- "I know,"
he murmurs gently, his smile blinding, taking my breath away with
it.
-
- Then,
capturing my lips, he steals my heart and soul with a
kiss.
-
- And
now...
-
- Nothing
in the world will ever be the same.
-
-
- *~*~* PART TWO *~*~*
-
-
- I've
never seen anyone with as many contradictions as the
Faceman.
-
- He's
physically beautiful, with a supremely confident, strong belief in
his own abilities, sometimes kind, occasionally considerate, often
a pushover and he genuinely cares. Not just about all of us, his
closest friends, but also about the people whose causes we
regularly adopt. It's not simply about the money, or the Jazz,
although those are a part of it, of course. No matter how
convinced he might be of that, it often goes much deeper than
those aspects. He might hide it successfully most of the time, but
he does care, I can vouch for that.
-
- He has a
good heart, a golden heart, which he hides under layers of
sham.
-
- But not
from me.
-
- He can't
hide from me.
-
- He's also
a brilliant conman. Face can get anything out of anyone. He could
convince an Eskimo to buy ice blocks from him, and then accept
being thanked for the unique privilege. He's that good.
-
- On the
other hand, he can also be one of the most insecure, vulnerable,
sensitive, nervous, self-conscious people you can get.
-
- Like a
little boy lost.
-
- He can be
unsure, craving praise and reinforcement, occasionally
self-centered, proud and vain, even, and easy to manipulate by
those who know how. Just ask Hannibal; he does it all the time to
Face. Guess we all do, from time to time, including me. Facey just
makes it so darn easy, at times.
-
- Sometimes
I get a nearly devilish kick out of baiting him, just to see that
exasperated, frustrated body language, and hear the words: 'What
the heck are you doing, Murdock?' All coupled with a glint of
tried, wearing-thin patience, and an undercurrent of strong
affection in those gorgeous blue-green eyes.
-
- Other
times I just love it when he plays along with my flights of fancy.
The light of amusement in his eyes at BA's obvious annoyance, to
put it mildly, at my role-playing and fantasies. He'll talk with
me for hours about my slightly invisible dog Billy, or patiently
rehearse with me the scams and cons we've prearranged
together.
-
- God, I
love him for that. For accepting me, just the way I am. No
pressure, no strings, no demands to change.
-
- And I
know he loves me.
-
- He rarely
says the words, but I know.
-
- I've
always known.
-
- Yesterday, we came close to losing him.
-
- I came
close to losing him.
-
- It was
one of those times when one of Hannibal's plans almost turned
tragic. Lucky for me, lucky for Face, lucky for all of us, the
thugs were incompetent, or he'd be gone.
-
- Maybe.
-
- For a
while there yesterday, as he lay, for oh so damn frighteningly
long, so very still and quiet, face pasty pale against the dark
silk sheets, it almost seemed like he was.
-
- Gone,
that is.
-
- Lost to
us.
-
- To
me.
-
- Yesterday
wasn't really his fault. The thugs had me pinned.
-
- Three of
them.
-
- Big
fellas.
-
- Really,
really big.
-
- My body
still aches from the blows they got in before Face stepped in
between me an' them.
-
- When he
saw me pinned and taking a beating, Face had come running from the
thick of the rest of the fight, leaving Hannibal and BA to deal
with the other men.
-