His dirty clothes fell with a thump to the floor, tossed hastily out of the way.

His body
made an even louder thump as he let gravity pull him into bed. Fresh, clean clothes collided with
crisp – yet army made, he couldn’t forget – linens and his newly washed hair graced the pillow.

He closed his eyes, trying to forget the explosion in his ears only hours ago. Fire. Money.
Was there a scream? He still wasn’t sure. But everything was in slow motion. Everything….

“You better not be sleepin, fool.”

He pried one eye open and looked around. The room was too dark; he couldn’t find the
source of the voice. But he knew it was there. And he knew who it was. He closed his eye back
up.

“Maybe if I pretend I’m asleep, he’ll leave me alone,” he thought. He kept his eyes
closed tight. He even started to snore.

“Wake up sucka,” the voice called again. He snored louder.

Suddenly, two really strong, and really jingly, hands clamped down on his shoulders.
They grabbed handfuls of shirt and pulled him up hard until he was in a sitting position. Sort of.
He opened his eyes and found him staring into two other, although much angrier, eyes.

“Murdock, you better get your ass out of bed and make me my food!”

“B.A.,” Murdock replied, “surely you don’t expect me to cook now, do you?” B.A. stared
long at Murdock, sneering. “I need my sanity sleep B.A., you know this.”

“You mean beauty sleep?” scowled B.A. Murdock smiled.

“No, that’s Face, I’m already beautiful. I need my sanity sleep or I get ca-raaayyy-
zaaaayyy!” Murdock grinned from ear to ear, but B.A. was not amused. He let go of his shirt.

“You’re already crazy, fool! Now get out of bed and get into the kitchen before I kick
your crazy ass!” Murdock twitched slightly and scurried out of bed. He pranced to the door and
left. But, just as the door shut, he slowly opened it back up and sheepishly slipped into the room.

“I… I forgot my apron…” he walked to his closet and opened it up, pulling out a “kiss
the cook” apron. He smiled at B.A., who just grunted. He scurried back out the door.

B.A. shook his head and sat down on Murdock’s bed. He made a disgruntled noise. He
shifted slightly in his seat and pulled something out from under him, producing a small pink
oven mitt in the shape of a pig. He inspected it in his hands.

Suddenly, a hand reached in and snatched the mitt out of his hands. B.A. barely had time
to recognize what just happened before a Murdock-shaped blur darted out of the room.
 Murdock crept through the dark dining hall, tripping over almost every obstacle in his
path. He tried to stay quiet, but his clumsy feet rattled over every chair and table leg. He finally
found the door to the kitchen, his hands running along the surface to find the handle.

He swung open the heavy door and narrowly missed hitting himself in the face. He took a
step back and walked into the even darker kitchen area. His hands felt around the wall inside the
kitchen until he reached the light switch. With a quick flick, the kitchen was flooded with light,
reflecting off the chrome appliances, steel cookware and pristine white surfaces.

Murdock shielded his eyes with his left hand, his piggy oven mitt casting a lumpy
shadow across his forehead. Eventually, his eyes adjusted and he got to work. He scurried around
the kitchen, throwing open cabinets and filling his arms with ingredients and utensils.

“Why did I have to open my big mouth. Coconut curry tapenade I said. With Toast
Points? Of course with Toast Points, your royal highness.” He muttered to himself as he threw
some ingredients into a bowl, most of them still in containers.

He went to the pantry and threw the doors open. He scurried inside and threw on the
lights. Light poured over the tins and cans and bags of food. Whole cans clammered into the
metal bowl in Murdock’s hands. He scurried back out of the pantry and threw the doors closed
with his hip.

The bowl was thrown down onto the counter hurriedly. It clamored against the hard metal
counter top as Murdock went to get another bowl.

With all the noise he had been making, it was a surprise that it actually took this long for
someone to go investigating. A man in a dark green jumpsuit peered around the corner. He took
one look at the blur in a bright Hawaiian shirt and just shook his head.

“Damn Murdock,” he muttered as he walked away, “always up to something.”

Every move he made appeared as a smudge to the untrained eye. One second he was at
the trash, the next he was cutting vegetables, the next he was back at the fridge haphazardly
throwing jars out of his way.

It only took Howling Mad Murdock mere minutes to finish prepping his meal and to
move on to the blazing stove. He cranked the heat and the burners roared to life. The pans were
filled with food and the look on his face, and the gleam in his eyes, seemed to change.

The rest of the A Team had seen him like this before, but only once. It was a state that
scared the boys more than when he was insane. He was calm. His face danced dangerously close
to the flames without batting an eyelid. His hands moved like those of a talented pianist
performing his prized concerto.
 He fired up another pan and threw in delicate slices of bread coated in butter. They
sizzled on impact, and Murdock smiled. Minutes later, the blazes were calmed and the pans
emptied. In his haste to plate his dish, he left a considerable mess on the cutting boards and in the
pans. But there was only one thing on his mind: feeding a hungry, and angry, B.A.

His socks slid across the tile floor as he rounded the corners in the kitchen and headed for
the door. He hit the light switch with his elbow and once again shrouded the kitchen in darkness.
His swift feet carried him down the hallways, his hands balancing his carefully prepared plate,
not spilling a single drop.

He skidded to a stop outside his room, where he last left B.A. The hot plate balanced on
his hand as he reached down with the other hand and slowly turned the knob. His room was still
dark, and he heard B.A.’s signature grunt.

“I have your food,” Murdock cooed as he walked towards the bed. He was answered by
another grunt. Murdock walked to the small table by his bed and turned on the lamp. It wasn’t
much light, but it was just enough for him to see B.A. sound asleep on Murdock’s bed, curled up
like a puppy.

Murdock sighed quietly, trying to decide if he should wake the sleeping giant or not. As
he was about to reach down and wake B.A., he saw him stir and curl up a little bit tighter.

He sat down next to his sleeping friend and team mate. B.A. seemed to shiver slightly
and sleepily rubbed his arms in a vague attempt to warm himself up. With his free hand,
Murdock reached behind him and pulled the blanket over B.A. He seemed to smile in his sleep.

Murdock stood up and stared for another second. He smirked and shut off the lamp.

“Sleep tight little buddy,” he cooed and walked out of the room, shutting the door behind
him. He looked down the darkened hallway, finding it empty. He then looked down at the still
steaming plate in his hands. He smiled.

“I wonder if Face is still awake…” he giggled and crept down the hall, whispering almost
inaudible promises of coconut curry tapenade (with toast points) to a probably dead asleep Face.