All Things Considered Part Two
Dec. 30th, 2010 06:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sonora_conejaPairing: Hannibal/Face
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: none
Summary: Part Two of Two of a fill for this prompt on the kink meme.
(I thought of this while walking my dogs at 4:30 this morning. It was cold and quiet and....it just appeared.)
Anyway, it's Xmas, everyone's lonely. Face is stuck as a driver for some other officer because he's such a fuck up. Hannibal sees him for the first time waiting outside the Officer's club, takes him off somewhere warm and seduces him.
Both of them find it's more than just lonely guys making each other feel better and the next day both of them set out to get back together. Face to scam his way into being assigned to Hannibal, and Hannibal planning to get Face away from the other officer.
Hoping for some hookup sex turning into more, and for them discovering, and loving, the smart, sneaky devil in each other too.
Long prompt. That's what two hour dog walks do to me. sorry.
Major Smith gets kicked out of the O-Club for smoking, and who else is over by the smoke pit but one very, very lonely Lieutenant Peck... I gotta warn you, it gets a little schmaltzy
They woke up just like that the next morning, Face tucked against Hannibal’s chest, everything so intertwined and interlocked, the major wasn’t sure where he ended and the kid began. And the kid was still against him, still coming up from the depths of his own slumber, so much to Hannibal’s delight, he got to watch the younger man wake for the first time, all the subtle little changes bringing his lieutenant back to him, and he swore that this wasn’t going to be the last time this happened. Not by a long shot.
Those blue eyes were bleary, unfocused, and for a second, the kid started struggling until Hannibal brushed a hand through that short, abused caramel hair, a soft kiss across a stubbled cheek, and he went limp immediately. Why did the kid respond like this to him, Hannibal wondered? Why did he respond so strongly to the kid?
“Good morning,” he said softly, shoving the mystery aside and biting back his urge to add sweetheart or darling or baby to the end of that sentence. “Look what Santa brought me.”
Face twisted himself around a little, so he was laying on his back, fingers idly playing through the short, silvery hair on one of Hannibal’s arms. “I thought I’d dreamed it or something...”
“No, no, I’m very much here with you, Face,” Hannibal said gently, suddenly obsessed with the fine, short hair between his fingers. Kid was going to have to grow that out and Hannibal found himself grinning at the prospect of having a little more to hold on to. “Best goddamn Christmas ever.”
“Me, too,” and Face yawned, stretched as best he could.
“Mmmph,” Hannibal agreed with a little grunt, nuzzling back into that soft neck. “So, Templeton...”
“My name’s Face,” the kid said, fast and a little harsh, and Hannibal pulled back.
“What?” he asked teasingly, “you don’t like the name your parents gave you?”
Face stared straight up at the ceiling. His voice was hollow. “Nuns at the orphanage gave it to me. Mom, whoever the fuck she was, left me in the night drop box at the Catholic hospital in town...”
Oh, so that was it. Abandoned by his parents, abandoned by the Army... and Hannibal gathered the kid back up, turned them both over on their sides so they could face one another, so he knew what he was going to say was heard. “Kid, I’m sorry, didn’t realize.”
“Yeah, well, you aren’t the bitch who left her six day old son in the anonymous metal bin, so...”
“I’ll never be the one leaves you, Templeton Peck. That’s not going to be our story.”
The kid’s eyes were wide, a little scared, bright with moisture, and a shiver ran through him at the simple words. But he tried to force a grin anyway. “Already decided this is going to be a thing, huh?”
"Why were you waiting outside the car that night, huh, kid?" he asked gently. "I saw you, and I knew..." The kid tried to bury his face, and Hannibal forced it back up. "It was freezing. You could have stayed in the driver's seat, but you didn't, and there you were."
"Saw somebody coming and I wanted to talk or... fuck, I really don't know," he admitted, soft and low. Hannibal didn't say what he was thinking, that there could be no decision about this because it had already been made for them, that this was how things were supposed to be and how sometimes, things did work out like this.
"Waiting for me," Hannibal murmured, following it with a chaste little kiss, those blue eyes huge now. Was that realization, recognition? A nod? “I know it’s too early to be asking for trust... but I want to take care of you, if you’ll let me,” Hannibal continued, so soft he himself could barely hear it, and it hung for a moment. Then a tear slid down a fine cheekbone, and then that beautiful face was pressed into his chest and he felt the slightest little change in pressure, a nod.
Hannibal thought he might shatter apart at that, so he hugged tighter, until the kid slid up and captured him for a long, slow kiss that left them both panting. Boy may have been new with men, but he sure as shit knew his way around a kiss, Hannibal thought happily, thinking of all the other things left to teach...
“Name’s not so bad when you say it...Temp,” Face said lightly, musing, playing with the word, rubbing a hand over one of Hannibal’s pecs. “Maybe, though, we can leave it for...”
“My name’s John,” Hannibal replied, tweaking an ear. “And we definitely have to leave that one for right here.”
“So, we’re going to do this again... John?”
“As often and whenever you’d like, Temp.”
And with that, Hannibal found himself flat on his back with a lapful of needy lieutenant, and reminded himself he really, really had to look into this one’s history with combatives. “How’s the view from up there?” the major teased, bringing both hands up to circle the kid’s waist.
“Pretty fucking good,” Face murmured. leaning in for a kiss, but Hannibal stopped him, finger to lips.
“Before I forget,” he said, “the colonel’s having a party at his house tonight for the single officers in the unit. I was wondering if you’d go with me.”
“I don’t think you’re allowed to bring your houseboy to the military Christmas party,” Face teased, that hint of sorrow leaking out with the words, and Hannibal realized he had his work cut out for him in getting rid of that. No matter. Not if it took him the rest of the kid’s life to sort him straight. He’d meant it - he wanted to take care of him.
“I am allowed to bring our new lieutenant, though. My new lieutenant,” he said back, challenging and warm and happy all at once, and if he wanted to say anything else about it, no luck, because the kid grabbed both sides of his face and drew him into another sinfully hot kiss, and neither of them spoke for a while after that.
+++++
The Christmas poker game at the Morrison’s house was as much of an institution as the delicious meal that Mrs. Morrison always whipped up, and Col Morrison’s men always eagerly consumed. And right now, among the ruins of no less than two species of roast beast and eight distinct side dishes, all served in coordinated German Christmas platters and bowls, the game was in full swing.
“Raise,” Russ said, tossing in a fifty, the rest of the table applauding, and his wife ran a familiar hand down his back.
Hannibal smiled at that, wondered not for the first time what that would be like, staying with somebody for so long, being a part of a whole. Not that he hadn’t tried the approved routes, a long time ago, but he’d never found it comfortable, denying that part of himself, trying to pretend. But that was before Face... and Hannibal finished his drink one go, hoping it was enough to hide the red that was flushing into his cheeks.
“He’s got nothin’, boys,” Russ’ wife declared from his shoulder as she tried valiantly to clean off the table, winking at Hannibal. He stared at her as the rest of them started roaring with laughter. “Pair of fours and jack shit otherwise!”
Samantha Morrison was a sweet thing in her late fourties, wrapped up in an intentionally ridiculous holiday sweater. She kept her house warm and bright and seasonally decorated, went to all the Spouse Club meetings, and made damn good brownies that she brought into the office in between missions and to the hospital afterward.
She also put up with a lot. Hannibal had always thought her something of a saint for it.
“So, I heard you got that lieutenant away from the general. ‘Bout time somebody stuck up for that boy,” she said, and poked her husband in the ribs.
“Well, Hannibal’s something of a miracle worker when it comes to these things,” the colonel protested.
"And you aren't, dear?"
"Hannibal's the patron saint of lost causes, honey."
The major knocked the ash of the end of his cigar, relaxing a little. Just had to direct the conversation away from whatever she suspected to be true. “I just got the info together. You boys should have seen the look on the general’s face when Russ walked in on him at the local Chili’s and started in on abuse of authority and the discriminatory treatment from regular forces towards their betters. Oh, it was priceless.”
“Like he was going to shit himself,” the lieutenant colonel from Staff, the one who’s name Hannibal had forgotten, confirmed, and then shrugged when the colonel turned an eye on him. “What? These things get around.”
Major Hammond, married, wife deployed, waved his cards. “Straight flush gentleman. All about salesmanship, right, Hannibal?
“It’s all about leverage,” Hannibal replied, rattled the ice cubes in his empty glass. “That and having a pair.”
“Oh, don’t even start with that, Smith,” Russ said gruffly.
“Well, whoever’s responsible, Face deserves it,” Samanth declared, and looked up towards the kitchen door. “What you need, honey?”
“Ah, speak of the devil,” Russ said, leaning back on the back two legs of his chair, watching as Face . “Lieutenant Peck, what can we do for you tonight?”
“You guys were talking about me, uh, sir?”
“Relax, el-tee,” Major Hammond said with a wave of his hand. “We’re all drunk right now.”
“Boy watches himself,” commented the lieutenant colonel. “Nothing wrong with mindin’ his manners.”
“Oh, don’t let him fool you,” Russ said with a chuckle. “Right little conman, this one.”
Face shot Hannibal a pleading glance, obviously ready to bolt, but the major shook his head. “I’m not the that got his orders pushed through.”
“His orders are pushed through?” Hammond asked.
“Evidently,” Morrison confirmed. “Got the news this afternoon from a very enthusiastic secretary. Said everything got stamped top, top, top priority up at Personnel. Briefed at morning stand-up and everything.”
“You didn’t do that?” Hammond asked Hannibal.
“I did ask the secretary to call Russ for me, figured he needed a heads up.” He started collecting everyone’s cards for another deal, Hammond literally shaking with mirth as Morrison started to fume. “Face did the rest with Personnel.”
“How?”
And the kid smiled, stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Wouldn’t be any fun if I told.”
Even Russ had to laugh at that, and as the mirth died down to the strains of Samantha’s favorite Mannheim Steamroller Christmas CD, Hannibal caught that woman smiling at him as Face started helping her scrape plates into the trash. Face studiously did not look over. Good boy.
“You want me to deal you in, Face?”
“Naw,” the lieutenant said. “We were actually having some trouble with the TV...”
“Hannibal can help you with that,” Samantha said. “Spends more time with it than Russ does.”
“Last thing I need is both of you going after my balls! Jesus, woman!”
“That’s not nice, Russ. It’s his birthday today!”
Hannibal handed the cards off to the lieutenant colonel and stood up. “Come on, Peck, let’s go see what you boys are up to.”
They hadn't had to have the talk about how to behave here. They both knew the score on that one. But if Hannibal possibly ran a hand along the waistband of Face's dress slacks, thinking about how much better it would be in his bed tonight, with room to spread out, he didn't think anybody was going to notice.
Except Face.
God, Hannibal loved that smile.
“How are things going, kid?”
“Oh, you know,” Face shrugged, the faintest hint of self-doubt around the corners of his eyes, and Hannibal resisted the urge to kiss it away. Kind of pushed him back in to the den instead
He leaned up against the edge of the wall, cigar dangling in two fingers, just watching. Captain Miller from Plans was crawling behind the TV in the colonel’s little den, and Face crouched down, offering up both encouragement and taunts in turn.
He nodded to Samantha slightly as she came up right behind and handed Hannibal his glass, refilled with amber-colored liquid, smiling a little.
“What are they doing?” she asked.
“Something about an Xbox and Halo,” Hannibal told her, sipping appreciatively. Russ always had a good selection of scotch on hand. “Your husband pissed at me? Haven’t seen him since dinner.”
“Hey, Face? You get that male to male AV adaptor?” the captain called out, and Face started snickering.
“The what, captain?”
“It’s the little thing that lets you put two pointy end of the cables together...”
“The ends that go in the holes?”
“You did go to college, right, Face?”
“I think a hand works pretty well, just wrap those suckers around nice and tight, all the contact you could possibly need,” Face joked.
One of the other lieutenants, Gonzales, too broke to go home and visit his family in Yuma brushed past. “Excuse me, major,” he said as he eased into the den, open beers in hand and a plate of cookies. He nudged Peck, passed down one of the beers.
“Skin’s not exactly the best conductor...” Miller called back out.
Face was giggling now. “Stroke ‘em together just like you’re so good at. As long as you get the tips taken care of, you’re golden.”
“Stroke...” They all heard a bang as the captain’s head hit the back of the TV and Gonzales started laughing. “Peck! Goddamn it, you motherfucker...”
“Yours, maybe, she was so grateful last night...”
“Seriously, you son of a bitch, just wait til I get out of here...”
“Yeah, and watch me kick your ass at Halo.”
Gonzales kicked back on the beaten leather sofa, the one Russ had had since college and started unpacking the controllers. “You gringos are going down!”
“I think Miller’s really going to enjoy that. I’ll hold him, you take him, okay?”
“Peck, seriously, you goatfucking...”
“Better than your mom,” Face said, and Gonzales, chuckling, slipped off the sofa to offer him a fistbump. Miller’s feet started flapping furiously.
"I'm going to make both you assholes cry, I swear..."
"See," Face commented to Gonzales, "talking about assholes..."
“Just like they’re old friends,” Hannibal mused, not realizing he’d said it out loud until he felt that female hand on his arm. “It’s good to see that.”
Fifteen years as an Army wife, and Samantha was laughing, slightly embarrassed, and Hannibal ran her hand under his elbow, letting her pull him away, back to the kitchen and the poker game, leaving the younger men to their sex jokes and video games. Everything right in place. Face just fine. And later tonight, after they got back to his place...
“What about it, Hannibal? You got a male to male connector for them?” she teased.
“Adaptor,” he said with a smile. “And I’m sure I wouldn’t know anything about it.”
“It was so sweet of you to go to bat for that boy,” she said, looking back as a roar of approval issues forth from the den, along with a swell of electronic notes that probably meant they’d gotten the system working. “I remember meetin’ him when he first got here, and then that captain pulled the rape card. Sweet kid. Needs a mentor, you understand me?”
“Never been able to hide anything from you, Missus Morrison,” he said, catching the warning, and winked back.
“You hurt him and you and I are gonna have words.”
“Samantha, it’s me,” he said with a grin, pausing before they got back to the kitchen, and when her glare didn’t settle, he sighed. “It’s not about... I’m not taking advantage of him or lying to him or...”
She shushed him. “Be careful, honey,’s’all I’m sayin’. That one don’t need any more trouble.”
Hannibal thought about earlier. He hadn’t left the kid’s apartment until later afternoon, heading home just to shower and change and grab a bottle of wine for the party. When he’d picked Face up, fresh and scrubbed and gelled, dressed perfectly, babbling nonsense. “Nobody’s talked to me since the bullshit came down. You don’t understand how bad it’s been with the guys, I can’t just...” and so on and so on, until Hannibal pressed him back against a wall and kissed him senseless, told him he belonged, told him he could do this, told him...
“I’m proud of the kid, Sam. Look at what he’s dealt with, and there he is, laughing it up like it’s nothing, pushing himself through it...” He smiled at her. “And don’t you worry about me hurting him. I’m incapable.”
She started laughing. “Oh, you got it bad, don’t you, Johnnyboy?”
“Yeah,” he said, lifted and kissed her hand and she squeezed back. “Yeah, I think I do.”
On to the sequel, here...
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: none
Summary: Part Two of Two of a fill for this prompt on the kink meme.
(I thought of this while walking my dogs at 4:30 this morning. It was cold and quiet and....it just appeared.)
Anyway, it's Xmas, everyone's lonely. Face is stuck as a driver for some other officer because he's such a fuck up. Hannibal sees him for the first time waiting outside the Officer's club, takes him off somewhere warm and seduces him.
Both of them find it's more than just lonely guys making each other feel better and the next day both of them set out to get back together. Face to scam his way into being assigned to Hannibal, and Hannibal planning to get Face away from the other officer.
Hoping for some hookup sex turning into more, and for them discovering, and loving, the smart, sneaky devil in each other too.
Long prompt. That's what two hour dog walks do to me. sorry.
Major Smith gets kicked out of the O-Club for smoking, and who else is over by the smoke pit but one very, very lonely Lieutenant Peck... I gotta warn you, it gets a little schmaltzy
They woke up just like that the next morning, Face tucked against Hannibal’s chest, everything so intertwined and interlocked, the major wasn’t sure where he ended and the kid began. And the kid was still against him, still coming up from the depths of his own slumber, so much to Hannibal’s delight, he got to watch the younger man wake for the first time, all the subtle little changes bringing his lieutenant back to him, and he swore that this wasn’t going to be the last time this happened. Not by a long shot.
Those blue eyes were bleary, unfocused, and for a second, the kid started struggling until Hannibal brushed a hand through that short, abused caramel hair, a soft kiss across a stubbled cheek, and he went limp immediately. Why did the kid respond like this to him, Hannibal wondered? Why did he respond so strongly to the kid?
“Good morning,” he said softly, shoving the mystery aside and biting back his urge to add sweetheart or darling or baby to the end of that sentence. “Look what Santa brought me.”
Face twisted himself around a little, so he was laying on his back, fingers idly playing through the short, silvery hair on one of Hannibal’s arms. “I thought I’d dreamed it or something...”
“No, no, I’m very much here with you, Face,” Hannibal said gently, suddenly obsessed with the fine, short hair between his fingers. Kid was going to have to grow that out and Hannibal found himself grinning at the prospect of having a little more to hold on to. “Best goddamn Christmas ever.”
“Me, too,” and Face yawned, stretched as best he could.
“Mmmph,” Hannibal agreed with a little grunt, nuzzling back into that soft neck. “So, Templeton...”
“My name’s Face,” the kid said, fast and a little harsh, and Hannibal pulled back.
“What?” he asked teasingly, “you don’t like the name your parents gave you?”
Face stared straight up at the ceiling. His voice was hollow. “Nuns at the orphanage gave it to me. Mom, whoever the fuck she was, left me in the night drop box at the Catholic hospital in town...”
Oh, so that was it. Abandoned by his parents, abandoned by the Army... and Hannibal gathered the kid back up, turned them both over on their sides so they could face one another, so he knew what he was going to say was heard. “Kid, I’m sorry, didn’t realize.”
“Yeah, well, you aren’t the bitch who left her six day old son in the anonymous metal bin, so...”
“I’ll never be the one leaves you, Templeton Peck. That’s not going to be our story.”
The kid’s eyes were wide, a little scared, bright with moisture, and a shiver ran through him at the simple words. But he tried to force a grin anyway. “Already decided this is going to be a thing, huh?”
"Why were you waiting outside the car that night, huh, kid?" he asked gently. "I saw you, and I knew..." The kid tried to bury his face, and Hannibal forced it back up. "It was freezing. You could have stayed in the driver's seat, but you didn't, and there you were."
"Saw somebody coming and I wanted to talk or... fuck, I really don't know," he admitted, soft and low. Hannibal didn't say what he was thinking, that there could be no decision about this because it had already been made for them, that this was how things were supposed to be and how sometimes, things did work out like this.
"Waiting for me," Hannibal murmured, following it with a chaste little kiss, those blue eyes huge now. Was that realization, recognition? A nod? “I know it’s too early to be asking for trust... but I want to take care of you, if you’ll let me,” Hannibal continued, so soft he himself could barely hear it, and it hung for a moment. Then a tear slid down a fine cheekbone, and then that beautiful face was pressed into his chest and he felt the slightest little change in pressure, a nod.
Hannibal thought he might shatter apart at that, so he hugged tighter, until the kid slid up and captured him for a long, slow kiss that left them both panting. Boy may have been new with men, but he sure as shit knew his way around a kiss, Hannibal thought happily, thinking of all the other things left to teach...
“Name’s not so bad when you say it...Temp,” Face said lightly, musing, playing with the word, rubbing a hand over one of Hannibal’s pecs. “Maybe, though, we can leave it for...”
“My name’s John,” Hannibal replied, tweaking an ear. “And we definitely have to leave that one for right here.”
“So, we’re going to do this again... John?”
“As often and whenever you’d like, Temp.”
And with that, Hannibal found himself flat on his back with a lapful of needy lieutenant, and reminded himself he really, really had to look into this one’s history with combatives. “How’s the view from up there?” the major teased, bringing both hands up to circle the kid’s waist.
“Pretty fucking good,” Face murmured. leaning in for a kiss, but Hannibal stopped him, finger to lips.
“Before I forget,” he said, “the colonel’s having a party at his house tonight for the single officers in the unit. I was wondering if you’d go with me.”
“I don’t think you’re allowed to bring your houseboy to the military Christmas party,” Face teased, that hint of sorrow leaking out with the words, and Hannibal realized he had his work cut out for him in getting rid of that. No matter. Not if it took him the rest of the kid’s life to sort him straight. He’d meant it - he wanted to take care of him.
“I am allowed to bring our new lieutenant, though. My new lieutenant,” he said back, challenging and warm and happy all at once, and if he wanted to say anything else about it, no luck, because the kid grabbed both sides of his face and drew him into another sinfully hot kiss, and neither of them spoke for a while after that.
+++++
The Christmas poker game at the Morrison’s house was as much of an institution as the delicious meal that Mrs. Morrison always whipped up, and Col Morrison’s men always eagerly consumed. And right now, among the ruins of no less than two species of roast beast and eight distinct side dishes, all served in coordinated German Christmas platters and bowls, the game was in full swing.
“Raise,” Russ said, tossing in a fifty, the rest of the table applauding, and his wife ran a familiar hand down his back.
Hannibal smiled at that, wondered not for the first time what that would be like, staying with somebody for so long, being a part of a whole. Not that he hadn’t tried the approved routes, a long time ago, but he’d never found it comfortable, denying that part of himself, trying to pretend. But that was before Face... and Hannibal finished his drink one go, hoping it was enough to hide the red that was flushing into his cheeks.
“He’s got nothin’, boys,” Russ’ wife declared from his shoulder as she tried valiantly to clean off the table, winking at Hannibal. He stared at her as the rest of them started roaring with laughter. “Pair of fours and jack shit otherwise!”
Samantha Morrison was a sweet thing in her late fourties, wrapped up in an intentionally ridiculous holiday sweater. She kept her house warm and bright and seasonally decorated, went to all the Spouse Club meetings, and made damn good brownies that she brought into the office in between missions and to the hospital afterward.
She also put up with a lot. Hannibal had always thought her something of a saint for it.
“So, I heard you got that lieutenant away from the general. ‘Bout time somebody stuck up for that boy,” she said, and poked her husband in the ribs.
“Well, Hannibal’s something of a miracle worker when it comes to these things,” the colonel protested.
"And you aren't, dear?"
"Hannibal's the patron saint of lost causes, honey."
The major knocked the ash of the end of his cigar, relaxing a little. Just had to direct the conversation away from whatever she suspected to be true. “I just got the info together. You boys should have seen the look on the general’s face when Russ walked in on him at the local Chili’s and started in on abuse of authority and the discriminatory treatment from regular forces towards their betters. Oh, it was priceless.”
“Like he was going to shit himself,” the lieutenant colonel from Staff, the one who’s name Hannibal had forgotten, confirmed, and then shrugged when the colonel turned an eye on him. “What? These things get around.”
Major Hammond, married, wife deployed, waved his cards. “Straight flush gentleman. All about salesmanship, right, Hannibal?
“It’s all about leverage,” Hannibal replied, rattled the ice cubes in his empty glass. “That and having a pair.”
“Oh, don’t even start with that, Smith,” Russ said gruffly.
“Well, whoever’s responsible, Face deserves it,” Samanth declared, and looked up towards the kitchen door. “What you need, honey?”
“Ah, speak of the devil,” Russ said, leaning back on the back two legs of his chair, watching as Face . “Lieutenant Peck, what can we do for you tonight?”
“You guys were talking about me, uh, sir?”
“Relax, el-tee,” Major Hammond said with a wave of his hand. “We’re all drunk right now.”
“Boy watches himself,” commented the lieutenant colonel. “Nothing wrong with mindin’ his manners.”
“Oh, don’t let him fool you,” Russ said with a chuckle. “Right little conman, this one.”
Face shot Hannibal a pleading glance, obviously ready to bolt, but the major shook his head. “I’m not the that got his orders pushed through.”
“His orders are pushed through?” Hammond asked.
“Evidently,” Morrison confirmed. “Got the news this afternoon from a very enthusiastic secretary. Said everything got stamped top, top, top priority up at Personnel. Briefed at morning stand-up and everything.”
“You didn’t do that?” Hammond asked Hannibal.
“I did ask the secretary to call Russ for me, figured he needed a heads up.” He started collecting everyone’s cards for another deal, Hammond literally shaking with mirth as Morrison started to fume. “Face did the rest with Personnel.”
“How?”
And the kid smiled, stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Wouldn’t be any fun if I told.”
Even Russ had to laugh at that, and as the mirth died down to the strains of Samantha’s favorite Mannheim Steamroller Christmas CD, Hannibal caught that woman smiling at him as Face started helping her scrape plates into the trash. Face studiously did not look over. Good boy.
“You want me to deal you in, Face?”
“Naw,” the lieutenant said. “We were actually having some trouble with the TV...”
“Hannibal can help you with that,” Samantha said. “Spends more time with it than Russ does.”
“Last thing I need is both of you going after my balls! Jesus, woman!”
“That’s not nice, Russ. It’s his birthday today!”
Hannibal handed the cards off to the lieutenant colonel and stood up. “Come on, Peck, let’s go see what you boys are up to.”
They hadn't had to have the talk about how to behave here. They both knew the score on that one. But if Hannibal possibly ran a hand along the waistband of Face's dress slacks, thinking about how much better it would be in his bed tonight, with room to spread out, he didn't think anybody was going to notice.
Except Face.
God, Hannibal loved that smile.
“How are things going, kid?”
“Oh, you know,” Face shrugged, the faintest hint of self-doubt around the corners of his eyes, and Hannibal resisted the urge to kiss it away. Kind of pushed him back in to the den instead
He leaned up against the edge of the wall, cigar dangling in two fingers, just watching. Captain Miller from Plans was crawling behind the TV in the colonel’s little den, and Face crouched down, offering up both encouragement and taunts in turn.
He nodded to Samantha slightly as she came up right behind and handed Hannibal his glass, refilled with amber-colored liquid, smiling a little.
“What are they doing?” she asked.
“Something about an Xbox and Halo,” Hannibal told her, sipping appreciatively. Russ always had a good selection of scotch on hand. “Your husband pissed at me? Haven’t seen him since dinner.”
“Hey, Face? You get that male to male AV adaptor?” the captain called out, and Face started snickering.
“The what, captain?”
“It’s the little thing that lets you put two pointy end of the cables together...”
“The ends that go in the holes?”
“You did go to college, right, Face?”
“I think a hand works pretty well, just wrap those suckers around nice and tight, all the contact you could possibly need,” Face joked.
One of the other lieutenants, Gonzales, too broke to go home and visit his family in Yuma brushed past. “Excuse me, major,” he said as he eased into the den, open beers in hand and a plate of cookies. He nudged Peck, passed down one of the beers.
“Skin’s not exactly the best conductor...” Miller called back out.
Face was giggling now. “Stroke ‘em together just like you’re so good at. As long as you get the tips taken care of, you’re golden.”
“Stroke...” They all heard a bang as the captain’s head hit the back of the TV and Gonzales started laughing. “Peck! Goddamn it, you motherfucker...”
“Yours, maybe, she was so grateful last night...”
“Seriously, you son of a bitch, just wait til I get out of here...”
“Yeah, and watch me kick your ass at Halo.”
Gonzales kicked back on the beaten leather sofa, the one Russ had had since college and started unpacking the controllers. “You gringos are going down!”
“I think Miller’s really going to enjoy that. I’ll hold him, you take him, okay?”
“Peck, seriously, you goatfucking...”
“Better than your mom,” Face said, and Gonzales, chuckling, slipped off the sofa to offer him a fistbump. Miller’s feet started flapping furiously.
"I'm going to make both you assholes cry, I swear..."
"See," Face commented to Gonzales, "talking about assholes..."
“Just like they’re old friends,” Hannibal mused, not realizing he’d said it out loud until he felt that female hand on his arm. “It’s good to see that.”
Fifteen years as an Army wife, and Samantha was laughing, slightly embarrassed, and Hannibal ran her hand under his elbow, letting her pull him away, back to the kitchen and the poker game, leaving the younger men to their sex jokes and video games. Everything right in place. Face just fine. And later tonight, after they got back to his place...
“What about it, Hannibal? You got a male to male connector for them?” she teased.
“Adaptor,” he said with a smile. “And I’m sure I wouldn’t know anything about it.”
“It was so sweet of you to go to bat for that boy,” she said, looking back as a roar of approval issues forth from the den, along with a swell of electronic notes that probably meant they’d gotten the system working. “I remember meetin’ him when he first got here, and then that captain pulled the rape card. Sweet kid. Needs a mentor, you understand me?”
“Never been able to hide anything from you, Missus Morrison,” he said, catching the warning, and winked back.
“You hurt him and you and I are gonna have words.”
“Samantha, it’s me,” he said with a grin, pausing before they got back to the kitchen, and when her glare didn’t settle, he sighed. “It’s not about... I’m not taking advantage of him or lying to him or...”
She shushed him. “Be careful, honey,’s’all I’m sayin’. That one don’t need any more trouble.”
Hannibal thought about earlier. He hadn’t left the kid’s apartment until later afternoon, heading home just to shower and change and grab a bottle of wine for the party. When he’d picked Face up, fresh and scrubbed and gelled, dressed perfectly, babbling nonsense. “Nobody’s talked to me since the bullshit came down. You don’t understand how bad it’s been with the guys, I can’t just...” and so on and so on, until Hannibal pressed him back against a wall and kissed him senseless, told him he belonged, told him he could do this, told him...
“I’m proud of the kid, Sam. Look at what he’s dealt with, and there he is, laughing it up like it’s nothing, pushing himself through it...” He smiled at her. “And don’t you worry about me hurting him. I’m incapable.”
She started laughing. “Oh, you got it bad, don’t you, Johnnyboy?”
“Yeah,” he said, lifted and kissed her hand and she squeezed back. “Yeah, I think I do.”
On to the sequel, here...
