WARNING: Mild slash and slashy themes. Nothing graphic.

In retrospect, Hannibal should have known that things were going too smoothly to last.

He and the team had been successfully, nearly easily evading the military police for over two months now. They'd managed to relocate to Los Angeles after their escape with no hassle, secure false identities, rent an inconspicuous apartment, and were even working on building up a cache of weapons. Things were nowhere near stress free, and it took its toll on all of them from time to time, but considering the circumstances it did seem that an angel (or maybe Sosa) was looking after them.

Hannibal would never say he had gotten complacent. He hadn't, and neither had his boys. But he would admit that he'd been so (understandably) focused on their immediate circumstances and the threats from the outside that he hadn't paid attention to anything that might be brewing closer to home.

It happened on a Tuesday afternoon. Hannibal was seated at the head of the large dining room table that served as the all-purpose table/workbench in their small apartment, hunched over the newspaper. He'd been vigilant about keeping up to date with every possible news source since they'd escaped, looking for any mention of the team that would suggest that the MPs knew they were in LA. Face and Murdock were sitting opposite each other at the other end of the table, cleaning the new weapons Face had acquired. BA was in the adjoining kitchen, making himself a sandwich.

The atmosphere was focused but peaceful. The sounds of newspaper rustling, condiment jars being opened and guns being dismantled was almost domestic.

"So we're not in the Army anymore," announced Murdock, apropos of nothing.

Hannibal glanced up. Murdock was inspecting the action of his AR-15. "No," he answered, wondering what brought the comment on. Who could tell with Murdock sometimes? The pilot didn't say anything more, so Hannibal returned his attention to the paper.

A minute later, Murdock spoke again.

"So Army rules don't apply to us anymore." His head was still down, concentrating on his rifle.

Face looked up, catching Hannibal's eye. Hannibal frowned slightly. He wasn't sure where this was going. The boys had seemed to be happy to continue the dynamic that they'd had in the Army, even if they weren't technically bound by rank anymore. It had worked for this long, after all. Hannibal couldn't see a mutiny forming, not from the (ex-)Captain, but he wasn't sure where this was going.

"No," he said again slowly. "No, they don't."

"Okay." Murdock reached for the Allen wrench that was on Face's side of the table. "So, I could tell you I'm gay then."

There was a crash from the kitchen as BA dropped his plate.

Face's head snapped around to stare at Murdock, his mouth hanging open. "What?"

Hannibal froze.

BA came into the dining area, sandwich forgotten.

"What you going on about, crazy?" demanded BA in a much gruffer tone than Hannibal knew he intended. Right. This had to be sorted out, not reacted to.

"Murdock," Hannibal said, priding himself on the level tone he was using, "Did you just tell us you're gay?"

Murdock's hands stilled on the weapon as he paused contemplatively. "Huh. I guess I did." He giggled. "Good thing we aren't in the army anymore, huh?" He smiled at Hannibal, but didn't quite meet his eyes, his gaze flitting to somewhere in the middle of the older man's forehead before dropping again.

BA let out a loud, long breath and rubbed a hand over his face. Murdock's fingers shook slightly as he fiddled with the bolt carrier. He started humming something, a distracted, jaunty non-song, under his breath.

There was a clunk as Face put down the magazine he'd been replacing. "So, you've been gay this whole time," he stated rather than asked.

Murdock giggled again, fingers fiddling with his firing pin. "Well, that's the way it works, Faceman."

Face braced both hands on the table. Red warning lights flashed for Hannibal.

"What the fuck?" asked the conman, looking like the shock was melting into something dangerously close to outrage. "You... Were you ever gonna tell us? You weren't, were you?"

"Face," cautioned Hannibal, at the same time that Murdock said, "Come on, Face. You know I couldn't." He looked up properly for the first time, meeting Face's stare. His tone was steady, but there was a pleading edge to the words.

"Because of the Army? Don't ask, don't tell?" Face replied to Murdock, ignoring Hannibal and the way BA was watching him. "That's bullshit, don't give me that. Like we don't break military procedure every fucking day-" He broke off, pushing away from the table to stand up, putting distance between himself and Murdock.

"You... Fuck!" Face was flushed, spluttering with confused, unfocused reaction. "We've lived together for eight years and you never... I told you everything, man. Everything." He knew he was sounding irrational, petulant, self-centred. He didn't care. Murdock would know what he was talking about, because he knew Face that well, because Face had always opened up to him. He'd know Face was talking about those horrible times after Sosa, when Face had cried and vented and ranted to Murdock, BA and Hannibal, individually and collectively, as the heartbreak and anger took their toll. In Face's world, vulnerability was a currency and he'd never spend without being sure of a return. It wasn't conscious or meant to be callous: It was just the way he was. Face would never have opened up to Murdock, to any of them, that way (and in all the other ways since they'd become a team, all the other times... He couldn't think about that now) if he hadn't thought that that level of honesty and vulnerability was being returned in kind. Murdock knew that. He knew that.

"I thought you just..." Face broke off again, with a choked, ugly laugh. "I thought you just didn't like talking about girls."

Murdock shrugged tentatively with tense shoulders. His mouth was pulled awkwardly to the side in an uncomfortable half smile, half grimace. "Well, I don't," he offered.

BA snorted at that. Hannibal's lips quirked involuntarily even though he knew that wasn't going to help matters.

He was right. With a low moan, Face ran his hand through his hair, upset to the point of stress-grooming. "Jesus, man," he huffed. "Are we even friends?"

Murdock blinked. "What kind of a question-"

"Because this is a pretty big thing to not know about someone you consider a friend," Face continued over Murdock, ignoring the response. "It's not like you just realised this, right? I mean, you just said, you've been gay this whole time." Hannibal watched as Murdock shrunk into himself, like a dehydrated plant. "That's a big thing, man. How much haven't you said? How many times have you just, like, not said anything, when you..."

"When I wanted to?" Murdock finished. "I did want to, Face. In that little bitty place where you're not mad at me, you know that. I just couldn't."

Face scoffed again. "Sure, you couldn't. Because I would have run right to Morrison and tattled on you and gotten you kicked out of the Army. Fuck, Murdock, if that's what I wanted to do then I would have done it way before now. What about all the times I've scammed you Xanax, Risperidone, Ativan, fucking Thorazine," he was counting off on his fingers, "Zoloft, Valium, Efexor, Lexapro, all off the record and all against military fucking procedure.

"What about the time you 'accidentally' OD'd on benzos and Hannibal nearly had to give you CPR?"

Hannibal snapped, "Lieutenant!" and BA took a warning step towards Face. In six years, they'd never spoken about that incident. Ever. Face continued heedlessly. "All of it stayed out of your records and off General Morrison's radar because of me. I got the nurses to keep it quiet, I forged papers to explain why you disappeared for two weeks, I got a competent psychiatrist to come to the base for once. I did all of that for you, to make sure your record stayed clean, and you still think I'd run off and throw you in the shit if you told me you were gay?"

Murdock had gone grey. BA moved back and put a protective hand on his shoulder. "Leave it, Face," he growled, sending the blond a hard glare.

Hannibal agreed. "Lieutenant, that's enough," he snapped firmly, in a voice that dared Face to point out that he wasn't technically a Lieutenant anymore. The Colonel turned his attention to Murdock, who was staring at Face with a terrible expression of apprehension and resignation.

"Murdock. Son," Hannibal said gently but firmly. The pilot, pale but steady, shoulder still covered by BA's massive hand, turned to him. "I'm sorry you couldn't tell us this before now. But I understand. I want you to know this doesn't change anything, personally or professionally." Again, he mentally dared Face to contradict, but the glaring blond was silent. "It's... a bit of a shock," Hannibal admitted with a small grin that was tentatively returned.

"Yeah, Crazy," agreed BA, looking down at the other man with a look of affectionate reproach. "All this time I thought you was just blabbing any damn nonsense that came into your head. Who knew you could keep secrets?"

Murdock swallowed, scratching distractedly at his cheek. "I have nuances," he muttered distractedly. His eyes were still on Face.

The conman made a frustrated, strangled noise. With a petulant huff, he turned and stormed out, his bedroom door snicking locked behind him. Murdock, Hannibal and BA sighed.

"He'll be okay, son," assured Hannibal, wishing he could give his CO a piece of his mind. Of all the times to act like a selfish damn teenager...

"I know," Murdock nodded, his eyes on Face's closed door. "Fellas, thank you so much, I can't tell you how... Just, yeah, thank you." He reached up and squeezed BA's hand. "I think I gotta..." He gestured in the direction Face had just left.

The other two nodded in understanding. "You keep Face in line," said BA sternly. "Don't let him say anything else he's gonna regret." He raised his voice slightly, aiming his words at the closed bedroom door. "Or anything I'll MAKE him regret!"

With a small smile and a slap on the back, Murdock got up and headed down the small corridor. He knocked softly. "Face? It's me."

There was no reply. He wasn't expecting one.

"Face?" He took a deep breath. "Michael Shelton."

The bedroom floorboards creaked slightly. Murdock continued. "He was the last serious one. Well, kinda serious. Off and on from 2006 to last year. He was a vegetarian but he'd eat butter prawns at restaurants sometimes. He worked in Denver as a graphic designer. We broke up last winter."

The door clicked unlocked and creaked open slightly. Murdock leaned against the door jamb and continued, making no move to push inside. "Remember that night you came home and I was sitting in the dark, playing Super Smash Bros? Well, I wasn't really crying because I thought the game was too violent for kids."

The door opened a bit wider. "I know," mumbled Face, not looking Murdock in the eye. "I thought you just didn't want to talk about it."

"I know." Murdock waited patiently for Face to look at him. When he finally did, Murdock asked, "Can I come in?"

Once they were both in the room, door once again locked, Face perched awkwardly on the edge of his bed. Murdock took a seat in the office chair by the desk, swivelling himself left and right absently. Neither spoke at first.

Face shifted uncomfortably, rubbing his palms on his jeans. "I'm sorry I was an asshole," he said finally.

"That's okay," replied Murdock genially. "It happens."

The wheels of Face's desk chair sounded like marbles as they rolled over the hard wood floor. Left, right, left, right. Swivel swivel.

"I'm sorry too." Face looked up, confused. Murdock elaborated. "I didn't mean to dump that on you like that. It just bubbled up in my head and came out." He giggled nervously at the unintended pun. "I didn't think about... Yeah. I could have done it better. So. Sorry."

"That's okay." Face looked around the room, trying to work out what he was going to say next, when Murdock spoke again.

"If I'd told you when we first met, would we still be friends?" he asked. "Would we be better or worse buds? Ten minutes ago, you'd still never met any of my exes or talked about any of 'em, and you seemed okay with that." He kicked the floor absently. "If I'd told you, would it have changed anything?"

Face opened his mouth to say, "Of course it would," but stopped himself. That was a reflex answer – Murdock never let him get away with those. He scratched the back of his neck. "We could have talked about stuff," he offered lamely instead, cringing at how superficial and pathetic that sounded.

Murdock didn't seem offended. "Like what?"

Face struggled again. "...Guys. Girls. Whatever."

Murdock leaned back in the chair, steepling his fingers like Mr Burns. "So we would have had more to gossip about during our sleepovers?"

Face flushed. "Come on, man..."

"You could have heard all about the dreamy new guy I just met while you painted my nails."

"Murdock, don't, you know that's not what I meant."

"Facey, can you show me how to do a French braid? I'll tell you about blowjobs!"

The blond buried his face in his hands and moaned/snorted. "Okay! OKAY! I get it."

Murdock peered at him over his fingers. "Do you?"

"Yes!"

The pilot smiled. "Good." He lowered his hands and nudged Face's foot with his own. "So, come on. What else would have changed? I mean," Murdock drummed his fingers on his knees, "don't get me wrong, I would have rather been able to say something instead of having a big black censor mark runnin' through the middle of my life. I got enough problems with memory loss; I need all the help I can get."

Murdock didn't say it in a bitter way, but Face winced all the same. "Look, man, what I said before... I was really out of line."

"I know."

"I didn't mean to, you know, use that against you or throw it in your face or whatever..."

"It's okay, Face."

Face wished Murdock wasn't being so level-headed and understanding about all this. Then maybe he wouldn't feel like his own reactions were so over the top and inappropriate. "Yeah, but. Still."

Murdock regarded Face for a long moment, an unreadable emotion in his eyes. "Are you gonna tell me what this is really about, Faceman?" he asked. "Is it a Catholic thing? I never heard you say anything bad about The Queers, but does it make you uncomfortable?" He laughed; a short, false sound. "Do you want to section me off with my own bathroom and stuff?"

"No!" Face was appalled. He'd really fucked this whole thing up. "God, no, Murdock, that's not it at all."

"So what is it?" Murdock drummed his index fingers on his knees again. "I get being shocked, but you were angry, man. Like, BA after I tricked him into going on the Gravatron angry. What's the deal?"

Face sighed. He knew, belatedly, why he SHOULD be mad. The Army's stupid, outdated policy had forced his teammate and friend to keep a huge part of his life private from the people most important to him. Face should be angry that the Army put a block in their friendship. It was probably unbearable for Murdock, Face realised with a flush of absolute shame. He was already scrutinised by the higher-ups (and their so-called peers) because of his mental history. Having that extra attention, trying to hide the worst of the medication side effects, nightmares, depression, hallucinations and anxiety AND ensure that no one suspected anything about his sexuality? Face couldn't imagine how stressful and isolating that must have been. He got a bitter taste in the back of his throat just thinking about how long his friend had to deal with that alone.

But, as much as Face was ashamed of the fact, it wasn't outrage towards the Army or protectiveness for Murdock that had caused him to react the way he did. Like most of Face's spur of the moment responses, this one had been embarrassingly selfish. It wasn't his proudest moment, but Murdock deserved an explanation.

"This is stupid," Face began. Murdock nodded, either in agreement, encouragement or both. "When we first met, when you first joined the unit." He stopped and took a breath. "I mean, it's not like it was a big thing. And it doesn't have to- It doesn't affect anything now. It was just, you know, back then, when we were all first getting to know each other, it was, you know, you and I were hanging out a lot, and I was, I had a girlfriend, but I thought maybe, you know, I might have been reading too much into things..."

"Faceman." Murdock cut off Face's inelegant speech gently, a lazy smile making his lips lopsided. "Are you saying you had a crush on me?"

Face's mouth opened and shut a few times. Eventually, sound came out. "I... wouldn't call it a crush." He had to salvage some dignity from this whole disaster. "But there was... Maybe there was an attraction there, yeah."

He wasn't sure what he'd expected (laughter? Offense? Awkward silence?), but as usual, Murdock surprised him.

"Aw, Face." The pilot's tone was filled with affection as he left the office chair and sat on the bed next to the conman, wrapping him in a tight hug. "Aw. You're so stupid."

Face tried to pull back, but Murdock's arms wouldn't let him. "Uh, thanks?"

Murdock chuckled into his shoulder and let Face go. "Face, you're mad because you didn't get the chance to experiment with me when we first met?"

Okay, that did sound kind of petty and strange. "Well, I didn't know you were gay." That didn't really sound better.

"Faceman." Murdock's eyes were filled with love, humour and a tiny hint of something wistful and sad. "You're upset because one of the many, many, many (no offense), many people you've found attractive at some point in your life didn't end up sleeping with you?"

"It's not like that," Face argued. It was close, he was man enough to admit, but that wasn't all. "I'd never, I have never, been interested in another guy like that. I don't want to sound like a girl, but we could have been..."

"Best friends?" Murdock finished for him. "Members of the most notorious Special Forces team in Ranger history? Desperate fugitives on the run, watching each other's backs at every turn?" The last one was said with an "old timey radio announcer" inflection that got the smile from Face it was intended to. "Facey, I know you think you've missed out on this massive part of my life, and I'm not going to lie and say that that's not true and that it doesn't suck. But what do you think we could add to this thing we've already got going to make it any better?"

Face knew that Murdock knew what he was thinking, so he let the pilot say it. "Sex? Facey, no offense again but I've seen how well people manage to stick in your life after they've dirtied your sheets. May as well be covered in bacon grease, they skid out of there so fast." There was no judgement in his expression. "I've always considered myself lucky to be one of the people who gets to stick around."

"Yeah, but," Face struggled to put his thoughts into words that weren't outrageously shallow. "I kind of feel cheated. Like, what would have happened, you know?"

Murdock slung an arm around Face's shoulders. "We both know what would have happened. It would have been your first time with a man. You would have loved it, or not, and either way it would have made things icky and weird. You would have hated having me on the team and even if I hadn't been shipped back to the House of Pureed Food, we never would have become friends."

"That's not true," argued Face. "Come on, we're not in high school. We could have been mature about it."

Murdock squeezed him with the arm he'd draped over Face's shoulders. "Aw, Face," he said again. "How many women have you slept with after knowing them for less than two weeks?"

Well that wasn't fair. Two weeks was HEAPS of time to know someone he wanted to sleep with. "Um…"

"And how many of their numbers do you have in your phone?" Murdock waited a beat, then continued when Face didn't answer. "How many of them have you hung out with socially with only pure, gentlemanly motives in mind?"

Dammit. "That's different. They're…"

"Women? Objects? Gratification vessels? Spooge receptacles? I can't believe you'd say that, Face. That's so un-PC."

"Oh, fuck off. They're chicks. You can't be bros with a chick."

"Again, very enlightened of you. And if I can be honest, a little dated. I don't think anyone calls them 'chicks' or 'bros' anymore. You're showing your age a bit, but the message still came across okay. Three stars."

"Dated? What are you… What about that movie, White Chicks?"

"That came out like five years ago, and shouldn't be used as an example of how to do ANYTHING."

"Five years, really?"

"At least."

"Fuck, I'm old."

"That's what I've been saying."

Face sighed. "See, this. This is what I'm talking about. We could have had this, WITH sex." He looked so pouty and frustrated that Murdock laughed.

"Or we could have had sex once and hated it. Or we could have had awesome sex and kept everything superficial. Or we could have broken each other's hearts. Or we could be married with six kids and a lizard, because little Timmy's allergic to fur. Or or or or or oar oar oar row row row your boat, gently down the stream…"

Face clapped a hand over Murdock's mouth. "Okay, I get it." When Murdock stopped singing, he removed his hand. Murdock was known to play dirty (and bitey/licky) when people employed that method to silence him.

"I'm not making fun of you, Faceman."

"Sure."

"I just don't see the point in being angry about something that didn't happen just BECAUSE it didn't happen. There's enough that really happens that deserves to be mad about." Face didn't try to decipher that. He was pretty sure he got the gist. "Like how the US government's chasing us for breaking out of prisons we shouldn't have been in in the first place. Or how I've missed out on eight years of honest friendship with you guys because of a hateful, narrow-minded policy that does its damnedest to make people feel like being gay is something dirty that they have to be ashamed of."

Face was surprised at the angry tone of Murdock's words, then realised he shouldn't be. His friend had been keeping a lid on this for eight years: More, if you take training and all his pre-team years into account. He nodded. "You're right." Face shifted out from under Murdock's arm, turning to face his friend more squarely. "Do over?"

Murdock looked confused for a second before breaking into a grin. "Sure." He similarly shifted to mirror Face's posture. "Hey Face! Turns out I'm gay. Sorry I couldn't tell you before now."

"That's okay. Hey, that must have really sucked."

"It did."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Okay!"

They did talk, all through the afternoon. At some point, a dinner of takeout was left in the hallway outside the bedroom by Hannibal. Not long after, BA knocked on the door with some beers. Hannibal joined before they'd finished the first can. On an otherwise unremarkable Tuesday, Murdock had the first real, honest conversations with his team since meeting them nearly a decade before.

Face didn't get laid that night, or any other night when it was just him and the team. But, he was proud and surprised to discover, he didn't even care.

Mostly.

FIN