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sonora_conejaPairing: Hannibal/Face
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: none
Summary: A sequel fill for this prompt on the kink meme. Follows Chance Encounter.
Hannibal meets Holden. Or the other way round...
Hannibal sees this guy who looks exactly like his beloved LT. But unlike Face, this guy a) seems to be gay b ) doesn't view him as some kind of father figure and is all "eww sex with Daddy no thanks *shudder*
Perfect way to release some of that sexual tension, right?
Holden sees this weird silver-haired hot old dude who's kind of undressing him with his eyes and also constantly making comments about his face. Whatever, the guy is hot (and for the purposes of this story Holden and Sean are not/not currently together) and he can have some fun, right?
So... smokin' hot crossover sex, please!!! Rough sex totally okay, nay, encouraged, bonus points if Holden and Face meet afterwards...
Face has a couple of questions for Holden. Holden puts his foot in his mouth, but maybe that’s just what Face needs to hear...
Where was his coffee?
Holden got up from the cramped table in the crowded Heathrow Starbucks. He was going to lose it to some other laptop-wielding, rolling-suitcased businessman, who that was the least of his problems right now. It was tight and unpleasant and he was exhausted. Caffeine. He needed caffeine. He did not want to sleep on this flight. He couldn’t.
Not on Valentine’s Day.
Holden had no idea what he was going to do about Sean. But, if he slept, he’d dream about Sean, about going home to him, about forgiving him, about losing him to the football culture and the publicity and the man’s enduring stubbornness all over again...
And goddamn, how long did it take for a barista to make a macchiato, anyway? Maybe the woman hadn’t understood - he wasn’t sure he’d understood her when she took his order. Had they forgotten about it?
He leaned over the little end counter, making an effort to keep his black vest from touching any of the spilled cream and coffee and chocolate and god knows what drying all over the slick surface. “Umm, excuse me, ma’am? Is my...”
The Turkish woman barely looked up. “You picked it up.” Or something like that. Holden wasn’t sure about the accent. Accents of top of accents. He sighed, and started to ask again, hoping the lone blonde English girl would answer but...
“Caramel macchiato? Damn, you like the sugar too, huh?”
That voice, his voice, and Holden froze. No, no, there was no way that...
“Holden! Long time, no see, buddy!” And the grin that met him as he turned around very nearly matched his own.
Wasn’t quite the same, though. That was the first thing Holden realized.
Sean had always teased him about his smile, said it was sweet, that it made him look like a little boy but not in a creepy pedaphile way, he’d always been quick to add. This other guy’s was... well, it was sweet, but there was nothing innocent about it. Nothing innocent about him at all, actually, Holden realized, and wouldn’t that be true of a man who could, would, did, track him down like this? And how, exactly, had he done that, anyway?
Not that he was going to forget his night with John any time soon. Been thinking about it lot lately, actually. John and his advice, his...
“Templeton?”
“One and the same,” his doppleganger replied smoothly, waving Holden’s coffee, just out of reach. “Your flight’s in what, an hour? Got some time to talk?”
This was bizarre. But, considering... “Sure.”
Templeton just grinned a little wider. “There a place we can talk?”
+++++
The British Airways business lounge on the upper level was huge, well-appointed, and almost completely empty - a welcome relief from the crush of people down below. The conceirge barely looked at either of them as Holden flashed his plantinum card at the woman.
“Damn,” Templeton said as Holden maneuvered the other man and his coffee and his rolling carry-on over into a secluded corner. “Why’d you go downstairs at all?”
“The coffee up here is shit,” Holden said with a yawn and plunked down into a plush chair as carefully as he could manage, trying not to wrinkle the dark fabric of his suit. He still had a 14 hour flight to get through. “And, uh, it’s nice to walk around before these trans-Atlantic flights.”
“Coach is really unpleasant, isn’t it?”
Holden stared as Templeton crossed his leg up over his knee and stretched out, lithe and easy. There was something inherently graceful about the other man, liked he lived fully in that body of his, the one that looked so much like Holden’s own... maybe he was on crew in college or something. But... “Did you... how did you know I’m in coach?”
“We look exactly alike, and Holden’s not exactly a common name,” Templeton said with a shrug, and ran a hand up through his hair. Hmm, Holden thought, maybe he was a little more nervous than he was trying to come on.
“And you were able to track me down here? What are you doing here, anyway? Does your firm have...”
“Oh, that. Yeah, umm, I told, err, John that I had some personal business I needed to take care of and...”
“You flew all the way over here to talk to me?”
“Over from Germany, actually. Came back on an ealier flight to catch you. John.. we had some time in our schedule, John wanted to finish up some business over there, a mess from about from a year or so ago.” Holden couldn’t stop staring, and it seemed to be making Templeton more and more uncomfortable. “John’s very thorough.”
“Cause he used to be military?”
Templeton nodded and looked away. “Right... how...wait, oh, you saw him naked?”
“That’s usually how it works,” Holden said, and judging from the look Templeton was giving him, he figured he better say something. Christ, this was weird. “So, uh... why did you...”
“Oh, right, that.” Templeton looked a little relieved. “Yeah, see, uh, seeing you and John like that, that morning...”
“Got you thinking?” Holden finished. “Like, why would John go for somebody that looked exactly like you, was he trying to send you a message? Like that?”
Templeton looked a little shocked, and held up a hand. “No, man, John’s been my boss for longer than I care to remember, pretty much since leaving school and he’s more like my dad...”
“Than your real dad?”
“Well, yeah, I’m... anyway, he’s my family.”
“And you’re straight,” Holden pointed out.
It took Templeton just a little too long to nod, like maybe he wanted to ask something or say something. “My only family. Do you know what I’m saying?”
“That must be kind of suck for you,” Holden continued, glad he was catching the right hint here, swirling his now-cold coffee around in its paper cup. Daddy issues, huh? “Straight guy, kind of macho, with a gorgeous, gay boss, a guy you really respect, bringing back hot young male ass all the time... he ever have a boyfriend or does he just play around?”
“What?”
Holden held his hands open in silent entreaty, and Templeton sighed. Like he didn't really want to talk, but couldn't help himself.
“He had a long-term thing going once, but it’s over now.”
“Bad break-up?”
“They broke up a while ago, him and Russ...”
“Was it hard, watching them together?”
“Before my time.” Templeton shrugged, tapped the arm of his chair for a moment and then started to stand. “I’ve never asked John want he does with his dick in his free time. Gay, wahtever, but I don’t really want to know. And I’m sorry, Holden, that’s not what... this was a mistake, I’m going to...”
“Come on, sit down, honey, I’m sorry,” Holden said, grabbing Templeton’s hand before he could pull away and guiding him back into the cushions. “I’m just asking.”
“Yeah, well, John doesn’t have the best taste in guys.”
“Including me? I think I’m pretty nice.”
Templeton’s eyes, the same blue as his own, rolled up to the ceiling and back down. “I mean, why you? Why you? What made him pick you up in the first place? He doesn’t, he doesn’t do that, usually... not when we’re in the middle of a ... deal, you know? He said he was just going out to think that night.”
Holden nodded. He may not have been too good at reading people, awkward with his own emotions, but he did know sexual distress when he saw it. What had he thought? Too bad John had fallen in love with a straight guy?
Too bad a straight guy had fallen in love with John.
“Went out to think about you, sweetie,” Holden said, squeezing that hand that was still in his. Templeton’s eyes got huge. “I’d bet,” he added.
“Did he say something?”
“Didn’t have to. It’s clear how he feels about you.” How I felt about my last boyfriend, he barely avoided adding.
Templeton’s mouth curled up into a little “oh”, opened and closed a few times, like he was trying to disgest that little bit of information. “Well, I’ve always, he’s been...I mean, it’s one of those things you worry about when you work for a guy who’s...”
“Gay? Hot? Amazing?”
Templeton flinched. “Is that what, is that why you came back with him?”
Holden sighed. “I had a pretty bad break-up a while ago. Loved the guy a lot, you know? It’s lonely. John was lonely. It just seemed right. We both needed it.” And he smiled. “And yes, he’s hot. And he’s good. Did you know that, how good he is at sex?” He dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “And he’s really, really good at sucking cock.”
Templeton shook his head and buried his face in his hands. “Jesus, yes, I don’t want to know...”
“Oh, sure you do. Don’t tell me you’ve never thought about it when you’re with a woman, hanging out in a hotel room with the guy, in some board meeting somewhere...” His doppleganger was silent. Bingo. And Holden leaned forward a little. “You ever tried pegging? Just to imagine how...”
“Look, Holden, man,” Templeton groaned, “I’m straight, he’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to a father, I don’t think about him in any kind of sexual...”
“I bet you’ve thought about him kissing you.” Templeton started to say something, and Holden put a finger on his lips. “In fact, I bet he has kissed you. You were probably drunk, and he was probably drunk, and you both pretended like it never happened. Or he tried to apologize and you told him not to worry about it. But you remember it, wonder about it...”
“Once,” Templeton said emphatically, cutting him off. “After I hadn’t seen him for about six months. I got locked in a tanning booth and he came and got me and we had a fight and then we just, I don’t know, it just kind of happened...”
There was a lot of pain wrapped up in that statement. Holden could hear it, and manipulated Templeton’s hand until his was holding it properly, palm to palm. The stockbroker stared at him, but didn’t jerk away. “Did you like it? Templeton, did you?”
“...I’m not into men.”
“Hon, look, you don’t have to be into men to be into a man. Especially not one like John, I mean, holy shit...”
“Okay, okay, Holden, please. No more about how good John is in bed. It’s not like I’ve never heard him...” and Holden got the sudden impression of what that must be like for Templeton, listening through the wall while the man he respected, looked up to, relied upon, pounded another through the mattress, all those delicious masculine sounds so clear, probably lying there, getting hard... or at least, that’s how it’d been for him, with one of the seniors in his freshman-year frat, back before he’d really understood himself. “But it’s not something I really think about.”
“Cause you won’t let yourself?”
“Jesus, what is this?”
Holden put his coffee down and stared, right at Templeton. He wasn’t going to say what he was thinking, that he’d lost the love of his life to this same kind of bullshit cultural pressure, that it was tearing him up inside and he knew he was too much of a coward to say anything about it to him. Too angry to cut Sean any slack for it, like John had suggested. That he didn’t want to see somebody who looked just like him go through that same kind of loss. That somehow, if he fixed this for Templeton, he might be able to fix it for himself. Somehow.
Go home.
Instead, Holden just blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “You flew all this way, somehow tracked me down, just to ask me about your feeling for your boss.”
“No, Holden, that’s not what...”
“Look, Templeton, John’s in love with you. It’s pretty clear that you love him. And whatever you think about gay culture or GLAAD or your own masculinity or your corporation’s policy on inter-officer relationships or whatever, you shouldn’t let the fact that you’re both men prevent you from expressing that to...”
“No!” Templeton almost shouted, and then calmed down, a little too quickly, once he realized the three other people in the lounge were staring. Continued, low and fast and angry. His knuckles were turning white. “No, jesus, Holden. I wanted to ask you if you were adopted or a foster kid or something, because I got dumped at a hospital when I was six days old, and you and I, and I maybe kind of thought we... we were...”
Holden felt horrible now. Sick, really. Had he really just been sitting here, projecting his own worries, his own feelings about Sean onto to a guy who’s just wanted to know... “if we’re related?”
“Yeah,” Templeton said, curt, and practically tore out of his seat. “Just wanted to know about that.”
“Oh, hey, god, look, I’ve got foot-in-mouth syndrome bad, I just assumed...I am so...”
“Assumed. Right. Of course you did. Like everyone else always... you know what? Never mind. This was a mistake. I don't even care.”
“Templeton...”
“Nice seeing you again, Holden,” Templeton said in a voice that implied nothing nice at all, and with that, the stockbroker was up, out, gone, away.
Holden wanted to say something, wanted to get up and go after him, apologize again for reading him wrong, promise he’d call his mother and ask if there’d been some kind of fuck up at the hospital, back then, but... no, he thought, and sagged back down before he could do anything stupid. Stupider. Again.
He’d fucked this up enough for one day.
And he still didn't know what he wanted to do about Sean. Maybe he could figure it out on the flight.
Goddamn Valentine's Day.
+++++
Face kept it together as he left the BA lounge and headed straight for the nearest bathroom. Two escalators and a people-mover later, he found himself in the over-shined gloss of the stone and steel toilets, staring down at polished marble as he braced himself over the bowl, dry-heaving, his stomach churning violently.
He was not in love with Hannibal. Hannibal was not in love with him. In no version of reality was that true. He couldn't be. He just couldn't be.
He knew which plane Holden was on, and Face watched him board. The man looked defeated, a little sad, as he handed his ticket over and got on. He probably didn't deserve the kind of reaction he'd gotten, the conman figured, and groaned internally. Fuck, he seemed like a real sweet guy, just trying to help out, so obviously broken up about losing his own lover...
Face groaned out loud at that, getting a funny look from the woman sitting next to him on the little waiting area bench, feeling a little bad about it. It was too weird, though, a man with his face, fucking Hannibal...
Was Hannibal really in love with him?
Him? Templeton Peck, his playboy lieutenant? His subordinate? His son, for all intents and purposes? Face knew he loved Hannibal, sure, he always had. But not like that. Not Holden's breed of love. Not like Holden thought. They'd been through too much together, Hannibal knew him too well at this point, seen him at his absolute worst... why would anyone love a person they knew like that? Hannibal could barely tolerate him at times.
So love? It didn't make any sense at all. But Face couldn't get it out of his mind now. And when the rest of the team caught up to him, three hours later, Face still wasn't sure.
The fact he couldn't definitively say no to it all scared the shit out of him.
“You were really quiet on the flight back,” Hannibal finally said.
The local news was on, the house was quiet, BA and Murdock already turned in for the evening. Face was watching the television in silence, flopped out in one of the wide, soft sofas. Hannibal had a glass of scotch. They’d been like this for an hour.
The colonel had only just gotten around to asking about this. Face had been... odd, for lack of a better word, since they met up with him at Heathrom. The lieutenant had been quiet, self-medicating with those free drinks in business class until he’d just passed out.
Wasn’t like him. Unless he’d just broken up with the girl of the month, and Hannibal hadn’t seen one of those around in a while. Maybe the life was finally starting to catch up with the kid. One night stands were far more compatible with the way they had to conduct themselves now, and there had been a lot of those, the nights gone. No girlfriends, though...
Hannibal puffed on his cigar. Fuck, it was Valentine’s Day today, wasn’t it? He was probably just a little sensitive because of that. Feeling sorry for himself, really. Or maybe it was the scotch. But whatever. He couldn’t stop thinking about how Holden had felt, wondering if Face would be the same...
“Yeah, well, I was thinking about...”
“...whatever mystery errand you’d gone there to run?”
“I told you, boss, I had to meet up with someone.”
“About?”
And this was one of those things Hannibal hated; one of his men, his lieutenant, not being honest with him. Face would never lie, had never lied, knew better than to try something like that, but it didn’t mean he was always one-hundred-percent honest. What was he hiding?
“Thought this person might have some information about my family.”
Yup, wide-eyed and earnest. Definitely hiding something. Face couldn’t tell him a flat-out lie. Direct questions always meant direct answers. Indirect usually yielded nothing.
But he didn’t want to force that out unless he had to. “We’re your family, Face.”
“Yeah, well, that was before you brought back some asshole who could have been my twin brother.” It was bitter. It was really bitter, and Hannibal felt a flush of shame at the memory of it, the man with Face’s body, gasping in the pillows,
“Are you still pissed about Holden, Face?”
“Still? Hannibal, it wasn’t...”
Hannibal laid his cigar carefully in the ashtray and leaned forward. Stared right at Face, that colonel stare of his, pinning the younger man to the armchair with nothing more than the force of his gaze. “Wasn’t what?”
“It wasn’t that long ago. Three weeks, right?” Wrong, kid, Hannibal thought, and realized somehow that Holden was probably who Face had spoken to today, and his heart sank a little. Shit, did the kid really think that they were related? It was some strange coincidence, not... and why hadn’t Face felt like he could come to him with this, anyway? “You think I don’t hear you through the walls?”
Had Holden been that loud? Hannibal had thought it was all rather subdued, really... and he smiled. “You’ve never complained before.”
“Chrissakes, Hannibal! It sounded like you were fucking me!” Face practically shouted, and then went still, silent, like he was trying to sink into the sofa.
Hannibal felt a stab of guilt run right through him. He hadn’t considered that, not at all. “Well, I wasn’t.”
Face let his eyes roll back up to meet the ceiling. “Do you want to?”
“What?”
“Holden, Hannibal. That’s what he told me. That we’re, we’re...”
“We’re what, kid?”
Face didn’t answer for a long time, and then everything in his body seemed to fall apart into the sofa around him. “...in love, that we’re in love, boss,” he finally answered. “But, I mean, that’s insane, right? You and me?”
Hannibal was frozen to his seat for a moment, and then realized he recognized that tone. The one the kid used when he wasn’t sure about something. When he was asking for an answer.
So the colonel did the only sensible thing he could think of. He pushed up, padded the three steps over to where Face was laying out, and pulled the lieutenant in for the long, slow, sweet kiss he’d been wanting to give him for the past decade...
But Face didn’t respond.
Not at all.
Ad finally, the colonel let his mouth slide off, away. Disappointed, horribly so. Hannibal pulled back, his little offer rejected.
Hadn’t it been rejected?
A pair of blue eyes, so similar to his own, locked on. And Face didn’t move, didn’t lean back, didn’t try to tear away. He wasn’t trying to flee, though, either, and then, then, the kid’s hands came up, hesitant and uncertain, to grab on to Hannibal’s shirt. Holding on. Holding him in close.
“Boss...” the kid pleaded.
Hannibal felt something flare up, deep in his chest. He couldn’t help the little growl that escaped him, and then he leaned forward, back down over his lieutenant. This time, he braced himself, not touching anything except the back of the sofa, and the soft damp of those lips, and this time, this time it was better.
This time, Face responded.
It started out tentative, nothing extreme, just that uncertain press of mouths, Face gripping Hannibal’s shirt so tight that the colonel was sure seams were going to start ripping. Like that, for long moments, seconds ticking away, the kid shifting, like he was trying to find a better angle for this. His nose kept brushing Hannibal’s.
Then the older man flicked his tongue out, hoping against hope, and Face groaned, opened, and sort of fell back into the couch, dragging his commander on top of him. Hannibal followed all too willingly, resting himself on his elbows and knees over the younger man’s body as the kiss got deeper, not wanting to scare Face, not wanting this to end. It couldn’t, not now that he finally had it. He stroked a weak hand through that fine caramel hair, loving the way the kid arched up into him, their groins rubbing up against one another and...
The lieutenant broke, shivered. Again, though, he didn’t try to get away or buck Hannibal off or anything like that. Just stared up at Hannibal, eyes wide, blown black from... arousal? Was it arousal? Hannibal had felt him, half-hard and clearly needing. The kid was always so damn needy... “Boss, was Holden right?”
“About?”
“Am I in love with you?”
It was so earnest, it took Hannibal almost completely by surprised. But he just growled again, and kissed Face harder, this time grabbing a handful of that hair and pulling his head back, tilting for better access and brought a little bit of teeth in, biting at that lower lip as he released and pulled back.
He laid one of his hands on the younger man’s chest, feeling his heart race, watching the emotions play out across his face, nothing settling. That was... good, wasn’t it? “Your feelings are yours, kid. I’m not a mind-reader.”
“Could have fooled me,” and Face tried to laugh.
“But I can tell you this, Templeton,” he rumbled, watching the kid squirm at the sound of his proper name, “I am in love with you. There’s never been any question about that for me. It’s only ever been you...”
Face shut his eyes, and pushed, hard, with both hands. Hannibal released him instantly, feeling everything start to sink, settle back to the depths as he watched the younger man scramble away from him. He held up a finger, quivering a little, like he wanted to say something and couldn’t quite form the words.
And without saying whatever it was he clearly wanted to say, Face somehow got to his feet and walked, very purposefully walked, out of the living room and up the stairs. A door open, and slammed hard. Hannibal sat frozen, hands just where they’d fallen off the kid’s body, staring after him.
What had he said wrong? Face had asked...
Hannibal couldn't think straight. Nothing was getting in. He couldn't...
His eyes roamed the room, trying to hold on to something, anything, as his thought spiraled out of control. He'd kissed Face. Face had kissed him. It'd been.... and now Face was gone. Face was gone...
The colonel caught the TV out of the corner of his eye. Some black sportscaster on the news, saying something about "...Sean Jackson has popped the lock on the closet and come out..."
Sean? A football player? And Hannibal suddenly thought about Holden, so like Face, and so not. Holden, so in love with his Sean, clearly wanting nothing more than to go back to him, hold him again. So like, and so not. And here was Face, running away, not towards. Not considering, not thinking, not loving...
No good, wishing for something he clearly couldn’t have, Hannibal thought, and eventually managed to get up the stairs himself. He paused at the lieutenant’s door, knocking softly.
“Face?” he asked, but there wasn’t an answer.
Hannibal just drug himself back to his bed at that, stripped to his boxers and fell into the sheets, emotionally and physically exhausted. They had just spent fourteen hours on a plane today, he was tired, his heart felt like it was cracking open and...
“Hey, Hannibal?”
He looked up, squinted a little at the figure outlined against the faint light of the hallway. “Kid?”
Face ran a hand up into his hair and then popped both his hands under the waistband of his sleep pants. “Umm... it’s a little cold in my room and I was thinking, wondering... would you mind, if I slept in here tonight?”
Trying not to smile, Hannibal just nodded and lifted up a corner of the covers. “Yeah, kid, that’s fine,” he said, and bit his lip as that warm, wonderful body slipped in next to his own. Facing away, on its side, not nearly close enough, but still there.
A few minutes passed. No words, no talking, just uneven breathing, and Hannibal couldn’t take it any more. He turned over, so his nose was practically pressing right into Face’s back. He reached slowly over the kid’s body, under the sheets, trailing shaking fingers down the light hair of one perfect arm. He drew in close as he twined his fingers in, moving them both around so he could feel the rise and fall of the kid’s chest under his nails.
“Okay, Temp?” he murmured, laying his head right next to Face’s on the wide pillow.
He felt him swallow. Hesitate again. “Yeah, real good...” But here was more. Hannibal waited. It was a while coming. “...I’ve never loved anyone, boss. I’m not even sure what that’s supposed to...”
“Shh,” Hannibal whispered back, savoring the feel of being this close, so close after so long. Just this much, just as long as he could keep it, would have almost been... “Nothing has to be resolved tonight, Temp. Just go to sleep.”
“Just sleep? That’s all I have to...”
“Go to sleep, lieutenant,” Hannibal growled, and felt Face laugh a little, start to relax. He started rubbing soft circles over the kid’s belly with their joined hands. “Just sleep. It’s okay.” The kid sighed and turned his head a little, so Hannibal’s lips were at his ear, whispering what the older man prayed were comforting words. “ I’ve got you, Temp, everything’s fine, you’re fine, nothing’s going to change, love you so much, brave boy...” and on and on, until breathing slowed and steadied and Face dropped of the edge, into slumber.
But for Hannibal, holding him like that, so close, so warm, he couldn't drift off. Not that easily. He wanted to remember all of this, just in case this was some horrible fluke, that Face came to his so-called senses in the morning...
But as minutes stretched, the rich scent that was uniquely Face seemed to surround him, drawing in around him, reassuring him, and he clung to a strangely growing hope that maybe, just maybe, this was real.
That Face was here to stay.
"Happy Valentine's Day, love," he whispered.
And in his sleep, the kid turned into him. Nose to chest.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: none
Summary: A sequel fill for this prompt on the kink meme. Follows Chance Encounter.
Hannibal meets Holden. Or the other way round...
Hannibal sees this guy who looks exactly like his beloved LT. But unlike Face, this guy a) seems to be gay b ) doesn't view him as some kind of father figure and is all "eww sex with Daddy no thanks *shudder*
Perfect way to release some of that sexual tension, right?
Holden sees this weird silver-haired hot old dude who's kind of undressing him with his eyes and also constantly making comments about his face. Whatever, the guy is hot (and for the purposes of this story Holden and Sean are not/not currently together) and he can have some fun, right?
So... smokin' hot crossover sex, please!!! Rough sex totally okay, nay, encouraged, bonus points if Holden and Face meet afterwards...
Face has a couple of questions for Holden. Holden puts his foot in his mouth, but maybe that’s just what Face needs to hear...
Where was his coffee?
Holden got up from the cramped table in the crowded Heathrow Starbucks. He was going to lose it to some other laptop-wielding, rolling-suitcased businessman, who that was the least of his problems right now. It was tight and unpleasant and he was exhausted. Caffeine. He needed caffeine. He did not want to sleep on this flight. He couldn’t.
Not on Valentine’s Day.
Holden had no idea what he was going to do about Sean. But, if he slept, he’d dream about Sean, about going home to him, about forgiving him, about losing him to the football culture and the publicity and the man’s enduring stubbornness all over again...
And goddamn, how long did it take for a barista to make a macchiato, anyway? Maybe the woman hadn’t understood - he wasn’t sure he’d understood her when she took his order. Had they forgotten about it?
He leaned over the little end counter, making an effort to keep his black vest from touching any of the spilled cream and coffee and chocolate and god knows what drying all over the slick surface. “Umm, excuse me, ma’am? Is my...”
The Turkish woman barely looked up. “You picked it up.” Or something like that. Holden wasn’t sure about the accent. Accents of top of accents. He sighed, and started to ask again, hoping the lone blonde English girl would answer but...
“Caramel macchiato? Damn, you like the sugar too, huh?”
That voice, his voice, and Holden froze. No, no, there was no way that...
“Holden! Long time, no see, buddy!” And the grin that met him as he turned around very nearly matched his own.
Wasn’t quite the same, though. That was the first thing Holden realized.
Sean had always teased him about his smile, said it was sweet, that it made him look like a little boy but not in a creepy pedaphile way, he’d always been quick to add. This other guy’s was... well, it was sweet, but there was nothing innocent about it. Nothing innocent about him at all, actually, Holden realized, and wouldn’t that be true of a man who could, would, did, track him down like this? And how, exactly, had he done that, anyway?
Not that he was going to forget his night with John any time soon. Been thinking about it lot lately, actually. John and his advice, his...
“Templeton?”
“One and the same,” his doppleganger replied smoothly, waving Holden’s coffee, just out of reach. “Your flight’s in what, an hour? Got some time to talk?”
This was bizarre. But, considering... “Sure.”
Templeton just grinned a little wider. “There a place we can talk?”
+++++
The British Airways business lounge on the upper level was huge, well-appointed, and almost completely empty - a welcome relief from the crush of people down below. The conceirge barely looked at either of them as Holden flashed his plantinum card at the woman.
“Damn,” Templeton said as Holden maneuvered the other man and his coffee and his rolling carry-on over into a secluded corner. “Why’d you go downstairs at all?”
“The coffee up here is shit,” Holden said with a yawn and plunked down into a plush chair as carefully as he could manage, trying not to wrinkle the dark fabric of his suit. He still had a 14 hour flight to get through. “And, uh, it’s nice to walk around before these trans-Atlantic flights.”
“Coach is really unpleasant, isn’t it?”
Holden stared as Templeton crossed his leg up over his knee and stretched out, lithe and easy. There was something inherently graceful about the other man, liked he lived fully in that body of his, the one that looked so much like Holden’s own... maybe he was on crew in college or something. But... “Did you... how did you know I’m in coach?”
“We look exactly alike, and Holden’s not exactly a common name,” Templeton said with a shrug, and ran a hand up through his hair. Hmm, Holden thought, maybe he was a little more nervous than he was trying to come on.
“And you were able to track me down here? What are you doing here, anyway? Does your firm have...”
“Oh, that. Yeah, umm, I told, err, John that I had some personal business I needed to take care of and...”
“You flew all the way over here to talk to me?”
“Over from Germany, actually. Came back on an ealier flight to catch you. John.. we had some time in our schedule, John wanted to finish up some business over there, a mess from about from a year or so ago.” Holden couldn’t stop staring, and it seemed to be making Templeton more and more uncomfortable. “John’s very thorough.”
“Cause he used to be military?”
Templeton nodded and looked away. “Right... how...wait, oh, you saw him naked?”
“That’s usually how it works,” Holden said, and judging from the look Templeton was giving him, he figured he better say something. Christ, this was weird. “So, uh... why did you...”
“Oh, right, that.” Templeton looked a little relieved. “Yeah, see, uh, seeing you and John like that, that morning...”
“Got you thinking?” Holden finished. “Like, why would John go for somebody that looked exactly like you, was he trying to send you a message? Like that?”
Templeton looked a little shocked, and held up a hand. “No, man, John’s been my boss for longer than I care to remember, pretty much since leaving school and he’s more like my dad...”
“Than your real dad?”
“Well, yeah, I’m... anyway, he’s my family.”
“And you’re straight,” Holden pointed out.
It took Templeton just a little too long to nod, like maybe he wanted to ask something or say something. “My only family. Do you know what I’m saying?”
“That must be kind of suck for you,” Holden continued, glad he was catching the right hint here, swirling his now-cold coffee around in its paper cup. Daddy issues, huh? “Straight guy, kind of macho, with a gorgeous, gay boss, a guy you really respect, bringing back hot young male ass all the time... he ever have a boyfriend or does he just play around?”
“What?”
Holden held his hands open in silent entreaty, and Templeton sighed. Like he didn't really want to talk, but couldn't help himself.
“He had a long-term thing going once, but it’s over now.”
“Bad break-up?”
“They broke up a while ago, him and Russ...”
“Was it hard, watching them together?”
“Before my time.” Templeton shrugged, tapped the arm of his chair for a moment and then started to stand. “I’ve never asked John want he does with his dick in his free time. Gay, wahtever, but I don’t really want to know. And I’m sorry, Holden, that’s not what... this was a mistake, I’m going to...”
“Come on, sit down, honey, I’m sorry,” Holden said, grabbing Templeton’s hand before he could pull away and guiding him back into the cushions. “I’m just asking.”
“Yeah, well, John doesn’t have the best taste in guys.”
“Including me? I think I’m pretty nice.”
Templeton’s eyes, the same blue as his own, rolled up to the ceiling and back down. “I mean, why you? Why you? What made him pick you up in the first place? He doesn’t, he doesn’t do that, usually... not when we’re in the middle of a ... deal, you know? He said he was just going out to think that night.”
Holden nodded. He may not have been too good at reading people, awkward with his own emotions, but he did know sexual distress when he saw it. What had he thought? Too bad John had fallen in love with a straight guy?
Too bad a straight guy had fallen in love with John.
“Went out to think about you, sweetie,” Holden said, squeezing that hand that was still in his. Templeton’s eyes got huge. “I’d bet,” he added.
“Did he say something?”
“Didn’t have to. It’s clear how he feels about you.” How I felt about my last boyfriend, he barely avoided adding.
Templeton’s mouth curled up into a little “oh”, opened and closed a few times, like he was trying to disgest that little bit of information. “Well, I’ve always, he’s been...I mean, it’s one of those things you worry about when you work for a guy who’s...”
“Gay? Hot? Amazing?”
Templeton flinched. “Is that what, is that why you came back with him?”
Holden sighed. “I had a pretty bad break-up a while ago. Loved the guy a lot, you know? It’s lonely. John was lonely. It just seemed right. We both needed it.” And he smiled. “And yes, he’s hot. And he’s good. Did you know that, how good he is at sex?” He dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “And he’s really, really good at sucking cock.”
Templeton shook his head and buried his face in his hands. “Jesus, yes, I don’t want to know...”
“Oh, sure you do. Don’t tell me you’ve never thought about it when you’re with a woman, hanging out in a hotel room with the guy, in some board meeting somewhere...” His doppleganger was silent. Bingo. And Holden leaned forward a little. “You ever tried pegging? Just to imagine how...”
“Look, Holden, man,” Templeton groaned, “I’m straight, he’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to a father, I don’t think about him in any kind of sexual...”
“I bet you’ve thought about him kissing you.” Templeton started to say something, and Holden put a finger on his lips. “In fact, I bet he has kissed you. You were probably drunk, and he was probably drunk, and you both pretended like it never happened. Or he tried to apologize and you told him not to worry about it. But you remember it, wonder about it...”
“Once,” Templeton said emphatically, cutting him off. “After I hadn’t seen him for about six months. I got locked in a tanning booth and he came and got me and we had a fight and then we just, I don’t know, it just kind of happened...”
There was a lot of pain wrapped up in that statement. Holden could hear it, and manipulated Templeton’s hand until his was holding it properly, palm to palm. The stockbroker stared at him, but didn’t jerk away. “Did you like it? Templeton, did you?”
“...I’m not into men.”
“Hon, look, you don’t have to be into men to be into a man. Especially not one like John, I mean, holy shit...”
“Okay, okay, Holden, please. No more about how good John is in bed. It’s not like I’ve never heard him...” and Holden got the sudden impression of what that must be like for Templeton, listening through the wall while the man he respected, looked up to, relied upon, pounded another through the mattress, all those delicious masculine sounds so clear, probably lying there, getting hard... or at least, that’s how it’d been for him, with one of the seniors in his freshman-year frat, back before he’d really understood himself. “But it’s not something I really think about.”
“Cause you won’t let yourself?”
“Jesus, what is this?”
Holden put his coffee down and stared, right at Templeton. He wasn’t going to say what he was thinking, that he’d lost the love of his life to this same kind of bullshit cultural pressure, that it was tearing him up inside and he knew he was too much of a coward to say anything about it to him. Too angry to cut Sean any slack for it, like John had suggested. That he didn’t want to see somebody who looked just like him go through that same kind of loss. That somehow, if he fixed this for Templeton, he might be able to fix it for himself. Somehow.
Go home.
Instead, Holden just blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “You flew all this way, somehow tracked me down, just to ask me about your feeling for your boss.”
“No, Holden, that’s not what...”
“Look, Templeton, John’s in love with you. It’s pretty clear that you love him. And whatever you think about gay culture or GLAAD or your own masculinity or your corporation’s policy on inter-officer relationships or whatever, you shouldn’t let the fact that you’re both men prevent you from expressing that to...”
“No!” Templeton almost shouted, and then calmed down, a little too quickly, once he realized the three other people in the lounge were staring. Continued, low and fast and angry. His knuckles were turning white. “No, jesus, Holden. I wanted to ask you if you were adopted or a foster kid or something, because I got dumped at a hospital when I was six days old, and you and I, and I maybe kind of thought we... we were...”
Holden felt horrible now. Sick, really. Had he really just been sitting here, projecting his own worries, his own feelings about Sean onto to a guy who’s just wanted to know... “if we’re related?”
“Yeah,” Templeton said, curt, and practically tore out of his seat. “Just wanted to know about that.”
“Oh, hey, god, look, I’ve got foot-in-mouth syndrome bad, I just assumed...I am so...”
“Assumed. Right. Of course you did. Like everyone else always... you know what? Never mind. This was a mistake. I don't even care.”
“Templeton...”
“Nice seeing you again, Holden,” Templeton said in a voice that implied nothing nice at all, and with that, the stockbroker was up, out, gone, away.
Holden wanted to say something, wanted to get up and go after him, apologize again for reading him wrong, promise he’d call his mother and ask if there’d been some kind of fuck up at the hospital, back then, but... no, he thought, and sagged back down before he could do anything stupid. Stupider. Again.
He’d fucked this up enough for one day.
And he still didn't know what he wanted to do about Sean. Maybe he could figure it out on the flight.
Goddamn Valentine's Day.
+++++
Face kept it together as he left the BA lounge and headed straight for the nearest bathroom. Two escalators and a people-mover later, he found himself in the over-shined gloss of the stone and steel toilets, staring down at polished marble as he braced himself over the bowl, dry-heaving, his stomach churning violently.
He was not in love with Hannibal. Hannibal was not in love with him. In no version of reality was that true. He couldn't be. He just couldn't be.
He knew which plane Holden was on, and Face watched him board. The man looked defeated, a little sad, as he handed his ticket over and got on. He probably didn't deserve the kind of reaction he'd gotten, the conman figured, and groaned internally. Fuck, he seemed like a real sweet guy, just trying to help out, so obviously broken up about losing his own lover...
Face groaned out loud at that, getting a funny look from the woman sitting next to him on the little waiting area bench, feeling a little bad about it. It was too weird, though, a man with his face, fucking Hannibal...
Was Hannibal really in love with him?
Him? Templeton Peck, his playboy lieutenant? His subordinate? His son, for all intents and purposes? Face knew he loved Hannibal, sure, he always had. But not like that. Not Holden's breed of love. Not like Holden thought. They'd been through too much together, Hannibal knew him too well at this point, seen him at his absolute worst... why would anyone love a person they knew like that? Hannibal could barely tolerate him at times.
So love? It didn't make any sense at all. But Face couldn't get it out of his mind now. And when the rest of the team caught up to him, three hours later, Face still wasn't sure.
The fact he couldn't definitively say no to it all scared the shit out of him.
“You were really quiet on the flight back,” Hannibal finally said.
The local news was on, the house was quiet, BA and Murdock already turned in for the evening. Face was watching the television in silence, flopped out in one of the wide, soft sofas. Hannibal had a glass of scotch. They’d been like this for an hour.
The colonel had only just gotten around to asking about this. Face had been... odd, for lack of a better word, since they met up with him at Heathrom. The lieutenant had been quiet, self-medicating with those free drinks in business class until he’d just passed out.
Wasn’t like him. Unless he’d just broken up with the girl of the month, and Hannibal hadn’t seen one of those around in a while. Maybe the life was finally starting to catch up with the kid. One night stands were far more compatible with the way they had to conduct themselves now, and there had been a lot of those, the nights gone. No girlfriends, though...
Hannibal puffed on his cigar. Fuck, it was Valentine’s Day today, wasn’t it? He was probably just a little sensitive because of that. Feeling sorry for himself, really. Or maybe it was the scotch. But whatever. He couldn’t stop thinking about how Holden had felt, wondering if Face would be the same...
“Yeah, well, I was thinking about...”
“...whatever mystery errand you’d gone there to run?”
“I told you, boss, I had to meet up with someone.”
“About?”
And this was one of those things Hannibal hated; one of his men, his lieutenant, not being honest with him. Face would never lie, had never lied, knew better than to try something like that, but it didn’t mean he was always one-hundred-percent honest. What was he hiding?
“Thought this person might have some information about my family.”
Yup, wide-eyed and earnest. Definitely hiding something. Face couldn’t tell him a flat-out lie. Direct questions always meant direct answers. Indirect usually yielded nothing.
But he didn’t want to force that out unless he had to. “We’re your family, Face.”
“Yeah, well, that was before you brought back some asshole who could have been my twin brother.” It was bitter. It was really bitter, and Hannibal felt a flush of shame at the memory of it, the man with Face’s body, gasping in the pillows,
“Are you still pissed about Holden, Face?”
“Still? Hannibal, it wasn’t...”
Hannibal laid his cigar carefully in the ashtray and leaned forward. Stared right at Face, that colonel stare of his, pinning the younger man to the armchair with nothing more than the force of his gaze. “Wasn’t what?”
“It wasn’t that long ago. Three weeks, right?” Wrong, kid, Hannibal thought, and realized somehow that Holden was probably who Face had spoken to today, and his heart sank a little. Shit, did the kid really think that they were related? It was some strange coincidence, not... and why hadn’t Face felt like he could come to him with this, anyway? “You think I don’t hear you through the walls?”
Had Holden been that loud? Hannibal had thought it was all rather subdued, really... and he smiled. “You’ve never complained before.”
“Chrissakes, Hannibal! It sounded like you were fucking me!” Face practically shouted, and then went still, silent, like he was trying to sink into the sofa.
Hannibal felt a stab of guilt run right through him. He hadn’t considered that, not at all. “Well, I wasn’t.”
Face let his eyes roll back up to meet the ceiling. “Do you want to?”
“What?”
“Holden, Hannibal. That’s what he told me. That we’re, we’re...”
“We’re what, kid?”
Face didn’t answer for a long time, and then everything in his body seemed to fall apart into the sofa around him. “...in love, that we’re in love, boss,” he finally answered. “But, I mean, that’s insane, right? You and me?”
Hannibal was frozen to his seat for a moment, and then realized he recognized that tone. The one the kid used when he wasn’t sure about something. When he was asking for an answer.
So the colonel did the only sensible thing he could think of. He pushed up, padded the three steps over to where Face was laying out, and pulled the lieutenant in for the long, slow, sweet kiss he’d been wanting to give him for the past decade...
But Face didn’t respond.
Not at all.
Ad finally, the colonel let his mouth slide off, away. Disappointed, horribly so. Hannibal pulled back, his little offer rejected.
Hadn’t it been rejected?
A pair of blue eyes, so similar to his own, locked on. And Face didn’t move, didn’t lean back, didn’t try to tear away. He wasn’t trying to flee, though, either, and then, then, the kid’s hands came up, hesitant and uncertain, to grab on to Hannibal’s shirt. Holding on. Holding him in close.
“Boss...” the kid pleaded.
Hannibal felt something flare up, deep in his chest. He couldn’t help the little growl that escaped him, and then he leaned forward, back down over his lieutenant. This time, he braced himself, not touching anything except the back of the sofa, and the soft damp of those lips, and this time, this time it was better.
This time, Face responded.
It started out tentative, nothing extreme, just that uncertain press of mouths, Face gripping Hannibal’s shirt so tight that the colonel was sure seams were going to start ripping. Like that, for long moments, seconds ticking away, the kid shifting, like he was trying to find a better angle for this. His nose kept brushing Hannibal’s.
Then the older man flicked his tongue out, hoping against hope, and Face groaned, opened, and sort of fell back into the couch, dragging his commander on top of him. Hannibal followed all too willingly, resting himself on his elbows and knees over the younger man’s body as the kiss got deeper, not wanting to scare Face, not wanting this to end. It couldn’t, not now that he finally had it. He stroked a weak hand through that fine caramel hair, loving the way the kid arched up into him, their groins rubbing up against one another and...
The lieutenant broke, shivered. Again, though, he didn’t try to get away or buck Hannibal off or anything like that. Just stared up at Hannibal, eyes wide, blown black from... arousal? Was it arousal? Hannibal had felt him, half-hard and clearly needing. The kid was always so damn needy... “Boss, was Holden right?”
“About?”
“Am I in love with you?”
It was so earnest, it took Hannibal almost completely by surprised. But he just growled again, and kissed Face harder, this time grabbing a handful of that hair and pulling his head back, tilting for better access and brought a little bit of teeth in, biting at that lower lip as he released and pulled back.
He laid one of his hands on the younger man’s chest, feeling his heart race, watching the emotions play out across his face, nothing settling. That was... good, wasn’t it? “Your feelings are yours, kid. I’m not a mind-reader.”
“Could have fooled me,” and Face tried to laugh.
“But I can tell you this, Templeton,” he rumbled, watching the kid squirm at the sound of his proper name, “I am in love with you. There’s never been any question about that for me. It’s only ever been you...”
Face shut his eyes, and pushed, hard, with both hands. Hannibal released him instantly, feeling everything start to sink, settle back to the depths as he watched the younger man scramble away from him. He held up a finger, quivering a little, like he wanted to say something and couldn’t quite form the words.
And without saying whatever it was he clearly wanted to say, Face somehow got to his feet and walked, very purposefully walked, out of the living room and up the stairs. A door open, and slammed hard. Hannibal sat frozen, hands just where they’d fallen off the kid’s body, staring after him.
What had he said wrong? Face had asked...
Hannibal couldn't think straight. Nothing was getting in. He couldn't...
His eyes roamed the room, trying to hold on to something, anything, as his thought spiraled out of control. He'd kissed Face. Face had kissed him. It'd been.... and now Face was gone. Face was gone...
The colonel caught the TV out of the corner of his eye. Some black sportscaster on the news, saying something about "...Sean Jackson has popped the lock on the closet and come out..."
Sean? A football player? And Hannibal suddenly thought about Holden, so like Face, and so not. Holden, so in love with his Sean, clearly wanting nothing more than to go back to him, hold him again. So like, and so not. And here was Face, running away, not towards. Not considering, not thinking, not loving...
No good, wishing for something he clearly couldn’t have, Hannibal thought, and eventually managed to get up the stairs himself. He paused at the lieutenant’s door, knocking softly.
“Face?” he asked, but there wasn’t an answer.
Hannibal just drug himself back to his bed at that, stripped to his boxers and fell into the sheets, emotionally and physically exhausted. They had just spent fourteen hours on a plane today, he was tired, his heart felt like it was cracking open and...
“Hey, Hannibal?”
He looked up, squinted a little at the figure outlined against the faint light of the hallway. “Kid?”
Face ran a hand up into his hair and then popped both his hands under the waistband of his sleep pants. “Umm... it’s a little cold in my room and I was thinking, wondering... would you mind, if I slept in here tonight?”
Trying not to smile, Hannibal just nodded and lifted up a corner of the covers. “Yeah, kid, that’s fine,” he said, and bit his lip as that warm, wonderful body slipped in next to his own. Facing away, on its side, not nearly close enough, but still there.
A few minutes passed. No words, no talking, just uneven breathing, and Hannibal couldn’t take it any more. He turned over, so his nose was practically pressing right into Face’s back. He reached slowly over the kid’s body, under the sheets, trailing shaking fingers down the light hair of one perfect arm. He drew in close as he twined his fingers in, moving them both around so he could feel the rise and fall of the kid’s chest under his nails.
“Okay, Temp?” he murmured, laying his head right next to Face’s on the wide pillow.
He felt him swallow. Hesitate again. “Yeah, real good...” But here was more. Hannibal waited. It was a while coming. “...I’ve never loved anyone, boss. I’m not even sure what that’s supposed to...”
“Shh,” Hannibal whispered back, savoring the feel of being this close, so close after so long. Just this much, just as long as he could keep it, would have almost been... “Nothing has to be resolved tonight, Temp. Just go to sleep.”
“Just sleep? That’s all I have to...”
“Go to sleep, lieutenant,” Hannibal growled, and felt Face laugh a little, start to relax. He started rubbing soft circles over the kid’s belly with their joined hands. “Just sleep. It’s okay.” The kid sighed and turned his head a little, so Hannibal’s lips were at his ear, whispering what the older man prayed were comforting words. “ I’ve got you, Temp, everything’s fine, you’re fine, nothing’s going to change, love you so much, brave boy...” and on and on, until breathing slowed and steadied and Face dropped of the edge, into slumber.
But for Hannibal, holding him like that, so close, so warm, he couldn't drift off. Not that easily. He wanted to remember all of this, just in case this was some horrible fluke, that Face came to his so-called senses in the morning...
But as minutes stretched, the rich scent that was uniquely Face seemed to surround him, drawing in around him, reassuring him, and he clung to a strangely growing hope that maybe, just maybe, this was real.
That Face was here to stay.
"Happy Valentine's Day, love," he whispered.
And in his sleep, the kid turned into him. Nose to chest.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2011-02-13 08:48 pm (UTC)And I totally love your Holden for trying to open up Face "straight" mind and think in another direction! And then how sad Face was when he saw Holden from afar, defeated.
Love the idea that Hannibal saw Sean's interview hehe
REALLY TRUELY AWESOME CROSSOVER STORY! YOU ROCK for writing this so perfectly!!!!
no subject
Date: 2011-02-13 10:07 pm (UTC)This was fun. And perfect? Thanks...there isn't much to go on for Holden, but I did my best!
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Date: 2011-05-17 03:48 am (UTC)Can I translate the fic and Chance Encounter into Chinese and share with my friends. I'll post the link when it's done. Wait for ur reply. Thx!!! :D