Face's first thought upon waking was how the owner of the motel they'd been holed up in for the last two days deserved a punch square in the jaw. They'd switched rooms yesterday because the A/C was out and now this one was as well.

Face hated August, he hated Louisiana and he hated the fact they didn't have enough money to get a real hotel instead of this $45/night shithole.

The room was sweltering, sticky hot and made even more so by the heat conducting, hairy pilot plastered to his back. Arms and legs draped over him as Murdock's warm breath puffed across his neck.

Face started to move but was met with resistance as Murdock made a disgruntled noise and clung tighter, his grip only loosening when it became clear Face was trying to roll over not away. As the shorter man again burrowed against his neck, Face's chest tightened, thinking about why they were still here in the first place and all his complaints about the heat were instantly unimportant.

He slid his hand over Murdock's body, brushing scars he knew, the one on the pilot's shoulder blade, thanks to a run-in with a bottle rocket as a teenager and those he didn't, the jagged one along the back of Murdock's hip that would cause the dark, uneasy look in his lover's eyes when questioned about it.

He dipped his hand further into the back of the pilot's pajama bottoms, giving a squeeze that had Murdock rubbing his morning erection against Face's thigh. But no, not that, later for sure but right now Face was busy surveying, reassuring.

His finger traced the 2 inch scar on the left side of Murdock's ass from a fight on the Nebraska job last year.

They had subdued Ricker's men and Murdock had laughed that high, frantic giggle that set Face's teeth on edge, before turning and showing them the knife, blood quickly staining the khaki of his cargos red.

"What kind of person stabs another in the ass during a fight!" Murdock had shouted later back at the safe house, "Who's going to be like, 'You know? I'm going to stick this in that man's ass!'"

It was then that Hannibal, busy stitching said knife wound, decided to start with the crude innuendos, causing Murdock's rant to splutter to a stop and Face to choke on his bottled water as B.A. groaned in embarrassment.

It wasn't until he saw the Colonel glance at him that Face realized it hadn't just been for Murdock's distraction but his as well.

He tightened his hold on Murdock, hand traveling back up, over the scar right above the Ranger tattoo on the pilot's arm. Al Qahirah, four years ago. Murdock had gotten shot hanging out of the window of their jeep on the way back from a mission.

Not only did it give the pilot what he proudly boasted, much to B.A.'s irritation, as matching scars with the mechanic, but that injury had changed everything for the two of them as well.

Face felt heat flush his cheeks at the memory of that initial frantic rush for connectivity in what became the first of many supply closet rendezvous for the pair.

He pressed closer, face into the unruly hair, arm around the narrow body he knew almost as well as his own.

"I love you." Face whispered and that's when Murdock lifted his head and Face tried not to flinch.

Murdock had a nasty black eye, the white turned almost completely red from burst blood vessels and an angry red line around his neck.

Face breathed deep, didn't want to think about what would have happened if B.A. hadn't gotten into the warehouse when he did, if he'd been even a minute later in cutting Murdock down from where that piece of shit Taylor had laughed while his grunts hoisted the pilot up onto the rafter.

When they found Taylor across town at another hideout, Hannibal had to physically tear Face off the scumbag drug dealer, the conman's pistol cocked and in the fucker's mouth without an ounce of remorse.

But it was alright. Murdock was here, safe in this shitty, hot room, a little worse for wear but o.k.

Face leaned in, carefully tilting the pilot's head, bringing their mouths together, his tongue gliding over Murdock's as his hand gently caressed his lover's face.

Murdock pulled away and looked at him intently before a crooked smile broke out.

"Are you, Templeton Peck, cuddling? This cannot be!" Murdock's voice was strained and his laugh was a croaky thing but it was still the most beautiful noise Face had ever heard.

"Shut up. Rangers don't cuddle." Face countered, as he rolled Murdock onto his back, placing his head on the pilot's chest, listening to the strong heartbeat, as the pilot's laugh rumbled in his ear.

"Don't worry, baby, your secret's safe with me." Murdock said as he ran a hand through Face's hair.