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Episode Summary: While settling in to their new home, in Voltafiore, Italy, The old Taratupa gang runs afoul of the town’s crooked Mayor. -- from www.tv.com
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McHale followed Carpenter down a rickety flight of stairs covered in plaster and broken glass and tile. They carried flashlights and McHale had a hand on Carpenter’s shoulder. He ducked to avoid a large spider web. “Lucky, where are we going?” he whispered.
Carpenter slipped on the debris and only McHale’s grip kept him up. “I found it when I explored the house,” he answered quietly.
“Found what?”
They stepped down into the cellar. Carpenter went to the far wall. “Over here.” He slipped behind an old set of shelves.
McHale followed and peered at the cracked wall. “What am I looking at besides a wall?”
“Wait.” Carpenter felt along the wall. He found his spot and put his shoulder to it. The door creaked open and he fell inside a secret room.
McHale pulled the shelf out enough so he could get behind. He grinned and offered Carpenter a hand. “Don’t know your own strength, hey Superman?”
Carpenter laughed and let McHale pull him up. “You know me. Faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive, and able to leap tall buildings in a single bound.”
“And able to survive life with Old Leadbottom while keeping your sanity intact.” McHale kept his arm around Carpenter’s waist. He shone the flashlight around. Two of the walls were covered with shelves of jarred food and homemade bottles of wine. An old couch sat against the other wall. “Well, I’ll be…A homemade bomb shelter.”
Carpenter lit the lamp sitting on a small table. “It needs a good dusting, but it’s just as good as anything we had back on Taratupa.”
McHale took a walk around the small space. He grinned. “Bigger than our favorite supply closet.”
Carpenter laughed again. “Yeah, and a little safer than me sneaking over to your island or you to my quarters.”
McHale rubbed the back of his neck and frowned. “Yeah. I do miss my hut though.”
Carpenter smirked. “What’s the matter? Don’t like roughing it?”
McHale rolled his eyes. “I don’t see you volunteering to live in a tent.”
“I would if it was with you.”
McHale blushed. He grunted. “It’s really not that bad but the boys won’t stop grousing about it. Bunch of spoiled babies.”
Carpenter stood next to McHale and put an arm around his shoulders. “No, I’m living in this drafty ruin with Captain Binghamton. Do you wanna switch?”
McHale gave an exaggerated shudder. “Anything but that.” He waved. “What are the chances of Binghamton coming down here and finding this place?”
Carpenter rested his chin on McHale’s shoulder. “Next to none. He hates this place. The only rooms he goes in are his office and bedroom. He’d take one look at those steps and go the other way.”
“And he hasn’t stopped to think that this building is in better condition than a lot of them in Voltafiore,” McHale said sourly.
Carpenter shrugged. “Did you really expect anything different.”
“No,” McHale sighed. “Sorry, it’s just…I’ve got family in Italy and…”
“Don’t worry about it. I understand.”
McHale turned to face Carpenter and rested his hands on Carpenter’s hips. “It is nice and cozy down here.”
Carpenter leaned in. He stopped when their lips were a hair breadth’s apart. “Very cozy.”
The kiss started slow and sweet. McHale licked at Carpenter’s lips before his tongue darted inside. He started unbuttoning Carpenter’s uniform jacket.
Carpenter pushed McHale down on the couch. He shrugged out of his jacket and loosened his tie before straddling McHale’s lap. He ran his lips along McHale’s jaw.
McHale put his head back and shut his eyes. He cupped the side of Carpenter’s neck. “Lucky,” he moaned.
Carpenter smiled and sucked on McHale’s throat. That’s when he heard McHale switch from English to Italian. He pulled away just enough to see McHale’s eyes closed and mouth open. “Just how many languages do you know?”
McHale blinked. He pulled Carpenter’s shirt free from his pants. He slipped his hands beneath to stroke the warm skin. “Well….English. Italian. Japanese. And multiple dialects from the islands. Why?”
Carpenter giggled. “I don’t know which war we’re in until I get you babbling.”
McHale pinched him. “Go ahead and laugh it up.”
“Carpenter! Where are you?” Binghamton shouted.
“Sometimes, I think his voice could shatter glass,” McHale growled.
Carpenter buried his face in McHale’s chest. He took a deep breath and stood up. He grabbed his uniform jacket from the floor and dusted it off. “I’d better go before he starts looking for me.”
McHale got to his feet. He grabbed Carpenter’s arm and gave him a quick kiss. Then he helped Carpenter on with his jacket. “Hurry. I’ll sneak out and get back to our camp.”
Carpenter smiled and hurried out. “Yeah, I’ll see ya later.”
“You can count on it,” McHale called after him.
Carpenter still had that silly grin on his face when he reported to Binghamton. The Captain didn’t say a word about it. After all, Carpenter always looked that way.