Just a Vacation

[sonora_coneja]

Pairing: Hannibal/Face
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: none
Summary: A fill for this prompt on the kink meme.

I got the a-team comic book ~ Shotgun Wedding in my stocking, and I confess, I kind of like it ;)

I was wondering if some one could write me something angsty based around the shipboard knowledge that Hannibal puts out, stating that Face is gay. I know this is kind of specific, but I'd like Face to be bi (but he's kept it hidden from the team - I'll leave it up to you if they've figured it out) And I'd like it if he gets hassled as a result by someone on-board. Can be verbal or physical abuse. But I'd love it if Face (who's stressed wondering if this means Hannibal has guessed that he's bi) is the one to finally snap and take action: Face is more than just a pretty boy after all. I like his deadly side, especially if it take onlookers by surprise. I'd really love it if it can end as H/F. But I'll take other pairing and gen too :)
HAPPY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!

Hannibal decide that Face is going to be gay for the remainder of their current mission. This causes Face a great deal of consternation. All he wanted was a vacation...



Face knew it was a mistake to let Hannibal come up for the plan on this one.

It was just... what else was he supposed to do? He hadn’t realized he’d dated this girl they were here to protect. Didn’t realize it at all, until she sprang out of her cabin, hands roaming everywhere, so eager and he remembered how damn good she’d felt back then and it wouldn’t be like he was the one cheating on his fiancee, right?

Nope, he’d screwed up enough missions because of women over the years. He couldn’t do that to Hannibal again. Especially not when the mission concerned one of Hannibal’s oldest, fondest and highest-ranking general buddies. So he’d said something to the boss about it, hoping like hell the colonel would be able to see a solution.

But this couldn’t be good. Hannibal talking to his old flame, Lindsey, Lindsey in tears...

“Lindsey, I’m really sorry...”

“No... just... stop,” she said, sniffling, stammering. “How...how...could you... why didn’t you tell me you were...”

Oh fuck. There was a little pit forming in his stomach now. This absolutely couldn’t be good, and his palms started sweating as an old fear started clawing its way to the surface, barely acknowledged yet, growing louder...

“Lindsey?” he asked in a small voice.

“Oh, Pecky-poo!” the girl said, running off, hand over her mouth.

And Hannibal was right there next to him, grinning over that absurd priest collar, the one that made it even harder for Peck to look at him without thinking about... “She’ll be okay. It’s for the best.”

“What did you tell her?” Face demanded, worried now.

“Don’t ask, don’t tell, lieutenant,” the boss replied, that grin still firmly fixed on his face.

“What do you mean, don’t ask, don’t tell? Why is she...wait...” No, no, no, Hannibal didn’t know about... “You told her I was gay?”

“Something wrong with that?”

Oh, fuck no. Hannibal was pulling out one of his cigars now and lighting up and Face did not need that kind of imagery right now. The boss was still grinning. Did the boss know? How in the hell did the boss know? Face had always, always, always gone out of his way to make sure at least this aspect of his personal life wasn’t a problem for the colonel, that he wasn’t burdened with the knowledge, an obligation to act...

“No!” he said, perhaps a little too loud, and Hannibal raised an eyebrow. “No problem, to each his own and all that. It’s just...” and here’s the part where he was only kind of lying, “I’m not!”

“You are for this cruise. Like I always say, mission first, Pecky-poo,” Hannibal said, throwing Lindsey’s old pet name back in his face, walking off with that fucking self-satisfied smugness about him.

Did he know? He was acting like he knew. And coming to that kind of solution to Face’s little problem so quickly, the smirk, the cigar...

Face walked over to the edge of the ship, looking down at the warm waters of the Caribbean.

“All I wanted was a vacation,” he moaned.

That pit was growing in his stomach now, a black hole, a horrible sinking feeling. And yeah, he kind of wanted to throw up.

+++++

The news about that cute wedding planner got around the ship faster than pink-eye in Basic Training.

It seemed like everywhere Face went, somebody knew.

Mostly women. Mostly girls, girls who watched him as he walked by the pool or down the halls, giggling to each other or coming up and asking him about this or that. He’d had a very nice conversation with a devastatingly cute blonde about what kind of moisturizer she should trick her boyfriend into using. Normally, he would have been all over that but no, oh no. Father Smith had proclaimed him gay.

He wasn’t.

Well, no, actually, he was. Technically.

Face thought of himself as bi, when he thought about it at all. Why waste time putting titles and labels and limitations on sex? It was way too much fun for that. Too many things to experience and feel and enjoy. But he was an Army officer, which meant he’d heard every bigoted opinion there was. Mostly from the small, vocal minority of guys in the service who felt their manhood threatened by the slightest suggestion of male-on-male action. The ones who created the prevailing opinion that there was no such thing as bisexuality - you either liked dick or you didn’t.

So, by that logic, even though he still liked women, in the eyes of most of the American guys on board, Face was gay.

And the only people more merciless about gayness than military boys were college athletes.

Just like all of the groom’s buddies.

“Hey, faggot, scoot your ass over!”

Face looked up from the end of the crowded shipboard bar where he’d taken refuge. It was late, he was tired, and he’d already had another of those long conversations with one of those distraught mothers he ran into sometimes. Nice old lady, son just out of the closet. Just needed some comfort, needed some advice, needed a gay man to reassure her that nothing was different about her boy. She’d kissed him on the cheek when she’d left.

“Seriously, man! This ain’t no gay bar!”

The lieutenant sighed. Well, it was bound to be coming sooner or later. There was a reason he didn’t make an issue of this kind of thing.

He never understood why others had to.

Face swung himself around on the stool. Definitely an athlete, he thought, taking in the guy in front of him. Huge neck, football muscles from college, five or six years ago, slowly converting to fat. Former linebacker, from the looks of him. Definitely big enough to hurt him based on weight alone. A couple of his buddies behind him. All of them Face recognized from the wedding party.

He was not in the mood for this. Goddamn it, Hannibal, Face thought. But then again, what the hell? Boss evidently wanted him to play the part...

Face smiled and crossed his legs tight, rubbing his thighs together in that subtly stereotypical way, flicking his eyes over the man in front of him a little too slowly. “Hi, gorgeous,” he said, deliberately lisping a little bit, and winked at the group of men standing behind him. “I don’t think I’m blocking you from the bar, am I?”

“Move over.”

“I’m comfy right here.”

“I am not reaching over some fag for...”

“Why not? I don’t bite,” Face replied sweetly, sipping at his margarita. He patted the empty stool next to him. “Tell you what, honey, just sit down and I’ll buy you a drink...”

The man clenched a fist, his wedding-party buddies shifting uncomfortably now, and Face just kept smiling at him. That’s right, asshole, he thought, and licked a little of the salt off the rim of his glass.

“Come on, Tyler,” one of the other guys finally said, tugging at his friend’s elbow. “He’s being an bastard on purpose.”

The linebacker jerked his arm free, casting one last glance at Face as he let himself be led away. The lieutenant winked at him, blew him a kiss. Why not?

“Well you’ve got an interesting way of standing up for yourself.”

Margarita in hand, Face watched the man who’d just spoken slide into the previously empty stool next to him. Sandy blonde, kind of cute, wrapped up in one of those cruise line uniforms, vaguely familiar... he snapped his fingers. “You’re the purser, right?”

The other man smiled at him and ordered a vodka-tonic. “And you’re the wedding planner.” He held out his hand. “Rob.”

Face finished his drink. Well, if he was supposed to be out and proud... “Templeton,” he said with an identical smile. And at that moment, he was pretty sure Hannibal didn't know about his whole liking-dick thing. Because it wasn't exactly going to stop him from sleeping around on the cruise. But then, Hannibal had just been trying to warn the women off, so...

Damn. No closer to an answer.

He did get a cabin number, scrawled on a cocktail napkin, as a consolation prize though. So, Face thought, at least that was something.

+++++

Not that Face intended to call the guy. Or go by and visit. Not unless it somehow became necessary. And he couldn’t think of too many scenarios where it might be important for him to do something like that. So he left the number by his bed in his tiny, cramped cabin and tried not to think about it all too much.

Tried not to think about Hannibal in clerical black, that priest’s collar, his big practical joke on his ladies-man lieutenant that could have been, so easily could have been...

Face didn’t sleep very well that night.

He didn’t exactly have a thing for Hannibal. Suggesting there was a thing meant suggesting the possibility of a thing, which there absolutely was not. As far as he was aware, the colonel was straight. Made sense. Most men were.

Not that it mattered, not that the team had ever seen him go through a relationship - and that was the other point. Even if the boss did have his-way leanings, he didn’t do relationships, and Face didn’t want some quick fuck from the man he worked for. Too awkward, too disappointing.

Something he’d been telling himself for years.

The next few days passed slowly. He tried to keep his mind on the incredibly boring task of arranging Lindsey’s wedding, but it was just too damn boring. And then there were the bridesmaids, all of them cute, the groom’s buddies, all of them suspicious, watching him, that one asshole harassing him whenever it seemed like there was a good opportunity for it. Which occupied some of his time. But other than that, things were quiet.

Too quiet. Mind-numbingly quiet. He would have given his left kidney for somebody to shoot, beat up, put in the hospital. Anything, anything but dealing with this target Hannibal had painted on his back. Something to deal with other than all the sheer fun his new status was bringing him. Made all the more humiliating - and humiliating was the only goddamn word for it - for the truth in it.

But he didn’t say anything to Hannibal. It was the mission, after all. Face didn’t want to see Lindsey killed any more than the rest of them did. Actually, having dated her for a while, Face thought he had more of a claim on caring about her personal safety than Hannibal did, just being her daddy’s friend, but whatever. They were going to keep her from harm, save the damsel in distress and all that. He couldn’t do that by bucking orders and exposing them all to the rest of the ship.

Face could do this. He kept saying it, over and over. Play along. Let the jocks give him shit and the girls fan themselves as they walked by and his teammates make fun of him. Just a few more days.

And then, Hannibal really pissed him off.

“... so good,” the boss said, leaning over to rail in a back corner he’d deemed safe for status reports. “None of us has spotted anything out of the norm to this point. Let’s hope it stays that way.”

The colonel and his unflappable optimism. Damn him. “Nothing out of the norm?” Face demanded, not daring to look the man in the eye. He was expected to whine about this. He wanted to whine about this. And he had been, every chance he got. Worked out pretty well, as far as he was concerned. “You’re not the one who has to pretend he plays for the other team.”

“Are you still on that? Give it a rest. It’s a big ship - whose gonna know?” Hannibal chuckled.

Oh, the boss was being so damn clever, Face thought bitterly, as he rattled off some version of the truth and bickered with BA, as Murdock reported in about the helicopter, and as Lindsey’s fiancee found them. Punched him right in the stomach and left him there on the deck.

As Face watched the guy stalk off, he felt somehow relieved. At least he was mad about his girl being sad, not about the whole fag angle. That was a novel reaction. He could respect that.

“You okay, Faceman?” BA asked, reaching down to help him up.

Face leaned back up against the nearest bulkhead and rubbed gingerly at the spot that was definitely, definitely going to bruise. Fuck, that guy hadn’t pulled his punches at all. “No thanks to you guys,” he grunted, taking BA’s hand but staring straight up at Hannibal, who had this inscrutable expression on his face, like he wasn’t sure why Face was upset with him. Why Face was upset at all. “Where was the help?”

+++++

Rob’s green eyes had gone kind of soft during the story. Really nice green eyes.

“And then he says...” Face started, accenting the words with a wave of his bottled water, and froze. No, Hannibal had said can’t blow our cover, which he would do, if he told Rob about this part of the afternoon. Shit, and his mind went racing for something else to insert there.

But the other man mistook his sudden stop for hesitation because he reached out and slipped a comforting hand over Face’s. Smiled at him. “It’s rough, isn’t it? When people don’t understand?”

They were outside, walking along the pool, the ocean breeze welcoming and cool as the sun set, nobody out but a few stray couples, everyone else at dinner. It would fill up again out here in an hour or two, but for now, they were basically alone.

And thank fuck. After the little scene that afternoon, Face had gone straight back to his cabin. Laid down on the narrow bunk and tried to tell himself that Hannibal hadn’t meant anything by it. If he told the boss what this was doing to him, he’d stop, he’d apologize... but that was insane. Hannibal never apologized for anything. He’d make up for his mistakes, he’d fix it if he could, but he’d never, ever, in all the years Face had known him, said sorry.

He knew the boss thought this was funny. He and Murdock and BA had been teasing him about practically the entire time. Big laughs, haha. Faceman Peck, taking it up the ass - because everybody always assumed you were the one taking it up the ass. Hilarious.

Face wanted to kill him. If the colonel even suspected that there was something to this little joke he was playing on his lieutenant, Face wasn’t sure how he was ever going to be able to forgive the man.

And normally he’d have gone to Hannibal with this, just talked to him, told him what was wrong, asked him for a solution. But he’d already done that once this trip. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice.

So he’d found himself at the door of Rob’s cabin instead, and Rob had been in, and Rob had been willing to listen. The set of lies the lieutenant had to tell him were far less devastating, much more familiar. He’d gotten used to not telling people what he did for a living a long time ago.

This just made more sense right now.

“Yeah,” Face said, running a thumb across the back of Rob’s hand. Warm, soft skin. An eager little sigh. What else did he really need? “It’s really hard.”

“Well, especially when it’s one of your friends,” the purser continued, squeezing a little. “Wait, you two are friends, right?”

What was Face supposed to say to that? “We’ve worked together for a long time. Lots of happy customers. But this...”

“Isn’t very nice?” Rob supplied, still smiling, like he was letting Face know he was making some kind of dramatic understatement or something. “Why’d he tell everyone, anyway?”

“He just told this girl I used to date...”

“Was she before, or after?”

“Oh, I, uh, I’m actually bi...”

Rob shrugged sympathetically. “Somebody should have told him about how fast things get around on cruise ships.”

“Like pink eye?” Face asked slyly, and the other man started laughing.

“Oh, honey, you have no idea the stories I could tell you about rumors on this boat.”

The lieutenant laughed right along with that, letting Rob swing their arms a little bit as they kept walking. He normally didn’t do sweet, and Rob was definitely that, but right now, it felt pretty damn good. At some point, their hands got a little tighter, their arms wrapped together, bodies closer. Face wasn’t sure how it happened or who moved first, but there they were, one of Rob’s hands under his chin, his own hand on the small of Rob’s back, little circles, lips touching, widening, opening each other up, and Face groaned at the first swipe of tongue over his, wanting nothing more than to just fall into all the familiar sensations starting to wash over him now.

“Christ...” he hissed, and green eyes were fixed on his.

“Poor baby,” came the answering murmur, and as Rob's lips closed over his Face figured, why not, everyone knew anyway.

Good joke. Hilarious.

But, as Rob started pressing him back, tucking them into a shadowy little corner of bulkhead and wall, the kiss back and a little harder this time, there it was. Somebody walking towards them. The reason why he shouldn’t be letting some guy just neck on him in public. A very, very good reason, and they broke apart, just in time.

“Fa... uh, Templeton?”

Hannibal. Great, Face thought to himself, and fought the irrational urge to hug Rob back in. Just get this over with. Show the boss exactly what kind of an asshole he was being. He shook those thoughts away. No sense in slitting his own throat over this. “What is, John?”

The colonel coughed, and looked at Rob, and then at Face. “We, uh, we need to go over a few of the details for the ceremony. Do you think you can tear yourself away?”

He nodded. Evening meeting, Hannibal’s cabin. And Face gave Rob a little apologetic half-smile. “I should probably...”

“Yeah.”

“I’m...”

“We can finish this up later, if you’d like,” the purser replied easily.

His smile filled out. And Face couldn’t help it, he just had to lean in, brush that hand back up the man’s back. “Looking forward to it, buddy,” he said softly, and peeled away, after Hannibal, who’d already started walking off.

“Whoa, boss, not so fast,” Face said, holding out a hand as he caught up with Hannibal. “Whoa. What’s going on?”

“I was about to ask you the same question, kid.”

“No, I meant with the job. What are we...”

Hannibal turned on him, stopping now, one hand clenching and unclenching slowly. In that way that usually meant he was pissed. Really, really pissed. “Face, what was that?”

“What was what?”

“What was what... kid, don’t stand here and bullshit me.”

Face felt distinctly uncomfortable under Hannibal’s gaze, and that pit was back, sucking all the warmth out of him. “We were, uh, getting to know each other?”

“Getting to know each other? Goddamn it, Face, stop lying to me!”

For a second, just a split second, Face thought his heart stopped. Did Hannibal set this whole thing up, just to call him out? Did Hannibal know? And he wasn’t sure if that was anger or relief he felt at the thought of it.

Better not to ask. “About what?” he asked cautiously.

“Don’t bullshit me, Face! That guy...”

The conman thought fast. There had to be a way out of this without just telling Hannibal... “That was the ship’s purser, boss. The one who keeps slipping me his number. Remember?”

Hannibal didn’t relax, but he did start walking again. That had to be a positive sign, Face thought desperately. “You don’t have to...”

“Actually, I do,” he snapped, sensing an opportunity to get the upper hand here, deflect, work around the truth without lying about it. That, and the fact that he was still pissed at Hannibal from earlier, that he was sore from that punch and that it was only all going to get worse. “I do, because you’re the one who decided I was gay for the purposes of this mission. That doesn’t just...I mean, come on, boss. It doesn’t just solve everything.”

Hannibal laughed, a little bit more unsure, and good, Face thought. “You could just tell him you’ve got a boyfriend.”

“I could have told Lindsey the same thing about another girl. Shit, Hannibal...”

Hannibal stopped again, trying to say something, but Face wasn’t in the mood to listen to any more half-stumbled excuses or rationales or, even worse, almost-apologies for putting him in a position where he had to kiss a guy. Like that was the worst fucking thing in the world. Face really, really wasn’t in the mood, and kept going, brushing past the colonel towards the stairs leading back inside, wishing this would all just end.

+++++

The meeting that night was short and very uncomfortable. Face was practically squirming the whole time, but at least Hannibal had the decency to not initiate any more of that gay-joke teasing bullshit. That was nice. In fact, the colonel seemed rather uneasy, distracted, missing things during the conversation.

So bad, in fact, that Hannibal called the whole thing before they were really done, interrupting BA in the middle of a sentence and telling them all to go get some sleep, because the wedding was tomorrow and they could talk about this over breakfast. BA’s eyes sort of misted over, probably thinking about that South American chick he’d met, and Murdock began babbling about chocolate-chip and banana pancakes in the morning, and Face stared at Hannibal.

Was he really that... what? Disapproving? Sure, Face had done his best to keep his sexuality from the team, but he hadn’t done it because he thought Hannibal would care. And now here the man was, acting like it the was worst thing in the world he’d ever fucking seen, refusing to even look his lieutenant in the eye.

Face had never figured him for a homophobe.

“Kid,” Hannibal asked slowly, after BA and Murdock piled out, the pilot chattering about something or other, “can we talk about...”

There were a hundred things Face could say to that, a dozen different arguments, but what was the point? “No,” he said, and slammed the door behind him.

Face thought about going to the bar, or getting dinner or something, but room service was always an option and the thought of running into the bachelor party that was sure to be going on, somewhere on the ship, made the thought of going anywhere public extremely unappetizing. He wandered back to his room instead, thinking about how good it would be to lapse into a pizza-and-beer coma right about now, when he bumped, literally, into Rob.

“You stalking me, buddy?” Face asked, somehow feeling instantly more comfortable.

The other man had a six pack of something Mexican and two of those styrofoam take-out containers, smelling strongly of chili and cumin, and smiled. “Figured you might need some company. Your friend looked really pissed. Is it because he’s a minister?”

“It’s because he’s an ass.”

Rob laughed at that, head throwing back a little, and he bumped a friendly shoulder into Face’s. “Come on, my cabin or yours?”

Turned out Face’s was closer, and a little bigger, if Rob was being straight with him about that. They swapped stories over fajitas and the cervesa, Rob’s tales about shipboard life and Face’s completely convincing fabrications based loosely off things he’d seen on TLC wedding shows. It was more fun than he’d had the entire cruise so far, and Face was neither surprised nor worried when the other man ended up in his lap, his own back pressed up again the wall, both of them on the floor.

“Mm, what do you like, Templeton?” the green-eyed purser purred, licking a hot stripe up his neck and blowing softly on the wet skin. He dropped a hand to cup the lieutenant’s growing erection through her suit trousers, fingers just threatening to squeeze. “You want to fuck me?”

Shit, Face thought, and rolled them both over so he was pinned underneath the other man, just to check. He nibbled at an ear. “You’re welcome to, if you want,” he offered, arching up a little bit, rubbing their groins together.

“No,” Rob replied, hands roaming freely. “I usually prefer...”

“Yeah...” Face agreed. Not that he didn’t like both, but tonight, tonight he wasn’t in the mood. Didn’t want to have to expend that kind of effort, holding somebody down, dominating. Didn’t sound good right now. Not with Hannibal being... and Face didn’t even want to think about that one.

It had never been further from possibility than it was right now.

They stared at each for a second, and those green eyes crinckled around the corners, and his own must have done the same, because they both started laughing. “I’d figured you for a top,” Rob said, completely unconcerned and gave his shoulders a little squeeze. “All that burly-man muscle under here...”

“Like it the same way you do, Rob,” Face said softly, and brought a hand up to play in the other man’s hair, tugging a little at the short strands above his collar. “Nice and deep...”

Rob was laughing again, a truly wonderful sound, and Face felt the first button on his shirt being undone, exposed skin licked and cooled. “Well, there are other options, aren’t there, sweetie?”

Aw, fuck, his tattoo, brand-new, skin still scaly. Hannibal had taken him down the place himself, wanted to make sure his lieutenant had gotten the right artist, clean needles... and he grabbed out for Rob’s wrist. “Clothes stay on.”

“Well, you’re a kinky one, aren’t yo?” the other man teased, going for his fly instead, and as Face felt his cock freed from the building pressure of his pants, only to be caught in the glorious heat of a very talented mouth, he breathed out, trying to relax, trying to focus on the pleasure of it.

Trying not to think of what Hannibal would say if he could see this right now.

And when he came, Rob sucking down every hot drop of his release, laving him clean, sliding up for another kiss, Face gladly sliding down to reciprocate, giving as good as he'd gotten, he tried to tell himself it wasn't Hannibal he was thinking of. That those moans didn't belong to Hannibal. That the salty taste wasn't Hannibal's.

That it never would be.

But when Face had finished, and tucked them both back into rumpled clothes, Rob cuddled up to him, something he hadn't expected, kissing a little, which he hadn't expected either, and it was comfortable. It was sweet.

"Oh, honey," the other man said, breath hot, everything hot, and licked something wet away from Face's cheek that didn't quite feel like sweat. "You want me to stay tonight?"

Sweet, but nice.

"Sure," Face replied, kissing him back. "Why the hell not?”

+++++

The next morning, Face woke after Rob had already roused himself, showered and putting himself back together, wet hair falling in his eyes, and the lieutenant didn’t fight it at all as he leaned over the bed for another kiss. It had been a tight fit, but nice. Sleeping with men was different than sleeping with woman. It had been a few weeks since Face had had either. Sweet, but nice.

“I know it’s none of my business,” Rob began, fishing his shoes out of the discarded duvet, “but you and your friend there...everything okay? I didn’t screw anything up, did I?”

“No, no, it’s not you,” Face sighed, and stared out the porthole at the ocean beyond. “He’s, he’s just...”

“Being an ass, right?” Rob patted his hand. “It happens, sweetie. The first guy I had a crush on...”

“Who said...”

“You gonna tell me you aren’t in love with him?” He paused, waiting for a protest they both knew Face wouldn’t give. “Trust me, straight guys ain’t worth the stress. You can’t change ‘em.”

“Tell me about it,” Face sighed.

Rob smiled a little at that, and stood up, shoving his feet back into his shoes. He brushed his uniform off and leaned in for another quick little peck. “If you need any more company on this cruise, come find me, okay, sugar?”

Face let himself be drawn up, tongues playing as they both walked backwards towards the door. Definitely sweet. Definitely nice. “Sounds like a plan, Rob,” he murmured, and the other man twisted the nob, let them both out into the hall, sucked a little on Face’s tongue and tugged on his lower lip.

The conman groaned at the unexpected sensations, so nice, just a little rough, teasing, and with his hands around the other man’s waist, backed him against the opposite wall of the hallway, planting himself and kissing back, a little harder now, Rob’s little whimper of approval barely escaping the seal of their lips, and god, that felt good. He was about three seconds away from pulling Rob back into his room and laying him out, doing it right this time...

And then he felt the hand on his shoulder, pulling him back. “Temp?”

Pulling him back hard, actually, Face realized as his back slammed into the wall right next to his own cabin’s door. He coughed a little, his air broken out of his lungs, trying to straighten up and stop the boss before...

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“What is your problem, reverend?” Rob was saying, anger creeping into his voice. “Where’s your tolerance? Where’s that fucking brotherly, religious love? What is your problem with Templeton’s orientation?”

Well, before that happened.

Holy hell.

“I’m fine, Rob,” Face wheezed, laying a hand on the other man’s shoulder and shooting Hannibal a nasty, don’t-you-even-think-about-it kind of glare. Wishing they didn't have to have the conversation that was probably, definitely, coming. Nothing but shock on the colonel’s face. Fucking beautiful. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t worry about it? Templeton, sweetie, look at what the guy’s doing to you! It’s not right, and you know it!”

“Rob!” Face said, a little louder, and ran a hand into the other man’s sandy hair, pulling him in for a hug. “It’s okay. He’s okay.”

“Templeton,” Hannibal growled, and tugged again, “it’s time to fucking stop.”

There was that hand on his shoulder again, and before he could even really think about what he was doing, Face felt his fist connecting with the flesh right below Hannibal’s ribcage, knocking the other man back. “Goddamn it, John!” Face snapped, barely catching back the Hannibal that was on his lips. “Why don’t you fucking get over it! This has nothing to do with you! Leave the poor guy alone! It’s not like he was doing anything I didn’t want!”

The older man didn’t quite go down, but he did rock back a little, and Face could feel his eyes boring into his back as he rubbed Rob’s back reassuringly.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, holding the other man close, hoping like hell it wasn’t an issue that he just punched out a reverend. Or a colonel, for that matter. “It’s okay, John and I are going to talk this out.”

“Mm, you sure?” Rob asked, placing one last little kiss to his neck.

“Long time coming,” he said softly, and let go.

Rob looked over at Hannibal and gave Face that little smile. Slapped him on the ass and smirked wider. “You call me later, sweetie,” he said, and sort of sauntered off.

Face turned, not really wanting to look at Hannibal, who had crumpled against the wall in something akin to shock, eyes wide and staring. Fuck he thought, and offered a hand. Those gun-calloused fingers closed down around his wrist, and as Face pulled him up, he couldn’t help the sinking feeling again.

Hannibal didn’t look at him, just watched Rob’s saucy little retreat, and when the boss was satisfied that the other man was out of range, he turned his attention back to the lieutenant.

And for a second, Face felt like he was going to pass out.

“Inside,” Hannibal growled, and practically threw Face back into his cabin.

Better to just rip that bandaid, the younger man thought gloomily. Get this over with.

Face sat down on the bed crosslegged, feeling rather morose. Hannibal took up an offensive position against the table, leaning back against it and drumming his fingers against the underside of the laminated pressboard top. Neither of them spoke.

This could go on forever, as far as Face was concerned. He was not going to be the one to break first. No fucking way. Just stared at the floor and didn’t say a goddamn thing as Hannibal’s drumming started to drive him slowly crazy. What the fuck was the colonel thinking? Was he pissed about the punch? The kissing? The...

“So, nothing you didn’t want, kid?” Hannibal finally said after about five minutes.

Oh, he was pissed about that. Right to the heart of the issue, Hannibal, good job. “Said it, didn’t I?”

“Sounded pretty convincing.”

“Did it? Hmm. Well, you know, we can’t blow our cover, right?”

“Face, look at me.”

“Fuck off,” he blurted out, falling back so he was flat laid out on the messy bunk, intently focused on the ceiling. “Just... don’t, boss. Jesus, just stop.”

“Stop what, Face?”

He waved an arm vaguely, letting it fall off the bed limply. Fuck it. “Stop doing this fairy-bashing bullshit. First it’s all, oh look guys, we’re gonna pretend Face is gay, hilarious, and now it’s sorry, kid, didn’t mean to force you into a position where you had to give a guy a blowjob, it’s so much worse than that Venezuela shitstorm last year, worst thing I’ve ever done to you...”

“You blew that guy?” Hannibal voice was loaded with... what, exactly? What was that?

Snark. Snark sounded like a god idea. Snark was always safe. “He blew me first, really good at it, I might add...”

“Kid, we’ve had this talk about fucking your way out of...”

And as uncomfortable as this conversation already was, that one was going to be way, way worse. Face froze, and said the first stupid thing that came to mind.

“I was not fucking my way out.”

The boss was on him in an instant, grabbing him with both hands and hauling him bodily off the bed, slamming him back into a wall. Face didn’t bother trying to stop him. Hannibal would win this. Hannibal was always going to win, and he braced himself for what was inevitably coming.

“You wanted to.”

“Yeah.”

“You wanted to blow him?”

“I think I already answered that...”

“Shit, kid, why?”

He closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the wall. Probably better to just stop talking around it. Wasn’t like Hannibal wasn’t going to figure it out anyway. Screw it. Why not? “Didn’t feel like fucking him, I guess.”

Face wasn’t sure what he was expecting. Nothing good. Nothing like...

“You bottom, kid?” It was low, gravelly, like water over river rock, and Face felt himself shudder. Oh, no...wait, what? “Is that your problem, haven’t gotten a good lay in a while?”

“Hannibal...” he said pathetically, whimpering a little and trying to squirm out now, trying to process whatever was being said and ignore how arousing that particular tone of voice was, but the boss’ heavy hand pushed between his head and the wall and tugged him up, so that he was staring right into Hannibal’s steel-blue eyes. Something there... “Hannibal, come on.”

“Tell me what you need, kid.”

A thousand things rushed through his mind, confusing everything, nothing clear. And before he could stop himself, just like with the punch and with no less force and no less hurt, Face surged forward, locking his arms back around Hannibal’s shoulders and kissing him. Hard.

And before Hannibal ripped him off, Face could have sworn that the boss was kissing him back.

Face tried to catch his breath, force down the sudden rush of blood, his light-headedness, the sudden pressure downstairs, and he groaned. Hannibal was watching him with wary eyes, him in that damn priest’s collar which was so, so not helping things, his lower lip kind of jutting out, some calculation running in that head of his.

“But you’re...”

“...straight.”

They stared at each other for a moment more, and this time, it was Face who broke first, dragging Hannibal back on top of him, lips crashing together, all tongue and teeth and nothing soft, nothing at all, no time for that was his lungs forgot to breathe and everything else became a dim memory.

“...oh, fuck...” Face gasped as Hannibal got a good handful of hair and pulled him completely off. Looked at him for a second, inspecting him for whatever the hell was holding the older man back, and then Face was grinning like an idiot as Hannibal flipped him around and slammed him back into the wall again, face first. “...boss!”

“You are in so much shit, kid,” the colonel hissed in his ear, fumbling with his own belt. “So, so much shit.”

“Yes, sir...” he panted, trying to grind himself back against the colonel and getting his hair tugged again.

“Behave,” Hannibal growled, biting at his ear and snaking his hands around, snapping off his belt and nearly tearing his fly as he jerked yesterday’s pants clean. Face shivered as they hit the fool, pooling around his ankles. Hobbling him, and turning him on even more. As Hannibal’s cock, Hannibal’s huge cock, if he remembered the open-bay showers properly, slid right between his ass cheeks. “This what you want, kid?”

Face thrust back a little, noticing that Hannibal’s pants were still up. And then the older man pulled back, leaving nothing but cold air, and Face whined, making to turn around. Oh, hell, no, he was not going to take kindly to some sick attempt at cockteasing this morning.

A hand shoved him roughly back against the wall and he heard the vague snap of a bottle opening, and then that cock was back, slick with lotion, hard against him, and Face bit his lip. “This what you need, kid?”

“Yes!” he practically sobbed.

Hannibal moved against him and Face had to bite back a whimper. “What do you need, kid?”

“Fuck, boss...”

Hannibal’s voice got really low and really smug. “That’s the idea.”

And there it was, no stretching, no prep other than that thin coating of lotion, nothing slow or gentle or easy about it, driving right into him, drilling through him, ripping him open, and god, isn’t this exactly what he’d been wanting all along, wanting for fucking years, since the first time he reported into Hannibal’s office, a terrified little second lieutenant... and he caught himself on open palms before he hit the wall. Right, the wall, the one that the colonel was attempting to fuck him clean through.

Face couldn’t form words, every piston of Hannibal’s hips sending sparks through his vision. The boss wasn’t trying to be gentle, wasn’t giving any thought to Face’s own enjoyment of this and hitting the wall was uncomfortable as all hell, but fuck, was this good. He wrapped his own hand around his cock as Hannibal’s fingers dug into his skin, hard enough to bruise, and pushed back every time the colonel pushed in.

They weren’t moving together, not really, but they were still tuned to same channel, Face thought dimly as he worked his cock and Hannibal worked his ass, both of them keyed up as all hell and just fucking going for it.

It didn’t take long, not long at all, before he was spilling over his own hand and all over the wall and Hannibal roared and stiffened behind him, thrusting up and locking in, filling his belly with that warm, wonderful sensation of...

Face half-collapsed against the wall, limp and sated, feeling like he just ran a marathon, the only thing holding him up the solid, comforting bulk of Hannibal behind him even as the man slipped out, Hannibal’s arms, Hannibal walking him over, laying him down...

Breathing out, the lieutenant got his eyes to focus, hoping this wasn’t some kind of insane dream, but no, there the boss was, sitting next to him on the bunk, rubbing a hand up under the stained edge of his shirt, not really looking at him. “Hey, Hannibal...” he managed, reaching up and catching hold of an elbow.

Turning around at the light touch, Hannibal smiled, uncertainty playing across his feature. “Is that what you wanted, kid?”

“Want you, boss,” he replied, pushing up, wrapping himself around Hannibal, legs on either side and arms dangling down off his shoulders. “Just you.”

“God, kid,” Hannibal groaned, and shifted a little in the awkward space, taking his face in both hands. “All this time...I’m sorry...”

Something in Face warmed at hearing that, like maybe Hannibal had wanted him all this time too, and he splayed his hands across that broad, muscled chest, feeling every rise and fall, every little twitch. “Got a great way of expressing it, boss.”

“Kid, I didn’t...”

Face yawned. Not because he was tired, something about his brain trying to get oxygen, and planted an open-mouth kiss into one of Hannibal’s palms. “Rough is good. Bottom is good...”

“Good. Good,” Hannibal said with obvious relief and reached up, held onto one Face’s hands. “That’s good.”

And, clawing out of the post-coital bliss, Face started noticing things again. Like how soft the older man’s voice had gone, that his own pants were gone and Hannibal’s white collar was askew, face flushed and eyes bright. Like how what was left of his suit was probably a total mess, and that was okay, he had another he could steam. Like the stain on the wall, his stain, and he smiled. He was pretty sure Rob knew how to get that kind of stain out of shipside wallpaper, and wasn’t he going to love this story?

Then Hannibal turned fully and moved them so that they were kissing again, and Face told his brain to shut up. Plenty of time for catch up and apologies and explanations and clean up later.

Nothing to worry about right now. Everything was okay.

+++++

“It’s beautiful out here, isn’t it, boss?”

“Sure,” Hannibal said, lighting a stogie. He puffed a few times, getting the burn even through the sweet tobacco, deliberately not looking over at Face. “Real nice.”

The colonel, Face figured, was watching the ocean, the stars overhead, so much bigger and brighter than anywhere on land. “It’s like that time out in Siberia, the sky.”

“It’s good to see it,” Hannibal agreed, and lapsed back into that uncomfortable silence.

Face was not in the mood for that bullshit. Not after the stressful day with the wedding and the shooting and Hannibal's embarrassed attempt to explain all the joking and all that. Not now, not when he knew the boss was still trying to figure out how all this was going to work, how they were going to work.

If.

And that was a truly terrifying thought. He tugged the cigar away, letting it burn, holding it hostage against his answer. “Why didn’t you just tell me?” he asked.

“I could ask the same thing of you, kid.”

“No, boss, I’m asking you, you go first.”

“Cigar,” Hannibal ordered, and waved his hand at the item in question.

“Answer,” Face said lightly, and raised it to his own lips, taking a deep breath on it, making sure to let it linger. He always got the boss the good stuff, straight from Cuba, just like he liked, but the only thing he could think right then was that he could still taste Hannibal on the end, smoldering...

“Why’d you kiss her after the ceremony, Face?” his commander asked, and Face rolled his eyes. Let the colonel take the cigar back. Why was this so damn confusing for the old man? Had he really not figured this out?

“Yeah,” Lindsey said, walking up at where they were standing above decks. “What was that kiss all about, Templeton? I thought...”

And this had destiny written all over it. Face smirked, and ran hand up Hannibal’s back, a finger cirling along the edge of that clerical collar. Possessive, around the older man’s shoulders. “Well, Lindsey, John here tends to get very jealous. He was trying to warn you off..."

Hannibal’s breathing had quickened against his arm. “Kid,” came the warning growl, and Face smiled a little broader. He stroked his other hand up Hannibal’s chest at that.

“See? Very, very jealous,” he murmured, pulling the colonel down for a quick, open-mouthed kiss that the older man responded instantly, and pulled out of nearly as fast. Not quick enough to get out of Face’s hands, though, and the lieutenant left those right were they were, stroking little circles against the back of Hannibal’s shirt.

Lindsey was staring. Not at him. At Hannibal. Oh, this was too hilarious. “I've been worried, I didn’t, you know, this wasn’t my...is it...did I?”

Hannibal stared back, and Face found his voice again. “No, no, nothing like that. I’m bi, sweetie.”

“Oh, thank god,” she said, and then her husband was right there and he waved a little and they were gone, back off into the party.

“Are you fucking serious?” Hannibal snapped, low and dangerous and beautiful.

"Sometimes people can be into both genders, boss."

“Jesus, kid," and watch Hannibal try to play that little revelation off on something else, Face thought smugly. "Jimmy...the general... there are military guests at this wedding, Face!”

Face squeezed the colonel a little closer. Nice try, boss. “Can’t blow my cover, can I, John?”

Hannibal shot Face a dirty look, the kind of look that could precipitate and ass-kicking or a hard fuck or maybe, hopefully, both.

The lieutenant smirked back and batted his eyes.

Hadn’t turned out to be such a bad vacation after all.