Sharing a BedPairing:
Colonel John "Hannibal" Smith/Lieutenant Templeton "Faceman" PeckRating:
PG-13 to R? I'm not sure.Disclaimer:
They do not belong to me. If only...Summary:
It was really all Hannibal's fault that Face was sharing a bed with him.AN:
Written for a prompt over at the A-Team kink meme except I can't really write the porn so it's more fluffy than anything else. Anyway, the prompt was: "Face likes to sleep in the same bed as Hannibal...... because Hannibal's awesome and warm and he doesn't get any nightmares when he's in Hannibal's bed. And maybe he likes to snuggle and hug people, mayyybe. Whatever, it's awesome and totally not weird to sleep in the same bed with a dude.
Little does Face know that Hannibal... has a slight problem with the kid crawling into his bed every night. And with the snuggles. Because Face's platonic love cuddles give him a raging, not very platonic boner... and that's not that easy to conceal if there's a touchy-feely lieutenant in your bed...". Also, this pairing has basically taken over my brain
, lord help me.
Really, Hannibal mused to himself as Face shifted in his sleep and snuggled himself closer to Hannibal, it’s my own fault. After all, he was the one who initially offered Face a space in his bed.
He’d known Face for about three months when it first happened. Of course he’d read the kid’s file (and hadn’t that taken a bit more time than he was used to), so he knew the kid’s background, and he’d spent enough time observing his new baby Ranger to realise that the kid had issues that he preferred to keep hidden. Normally, he’d let it go. All his boys knew he was open to talk if they needed it, but he preferred not to push them. Better to let them come to him than the other way around. Pushing could just lead to more trouble.
But he’d been walking back through camp, later than usual one night after an evening drinking with Russ, and as he’d neared the area where his own unit were stationed, he’d heard it. A strange little whimpering sound. Not that noise in an army base camp is unusual; it would be stranger if there wasn’t any noise, but this sound seemed to tug at his heart just a little more than normal. It got a tiny bit louder as he reached his unit’s tent, and he paused outside the flap, listening. Yep, there it is again. He ducked inside, holding the flap open so he could use the moonlight to identify the source of the noise. A lot of the boys out here sleep with earplugs in, because you never know when a helicopter or aircraft are going to be scrambled in the middle of the night, and nobody likes missing out on valuable sleeping time.
The whimpering seemed to have stopped, but Hannibal could still make out the sounds of harsh, heavy breathing coming to the left. Face. He’d let the tent canvas fall back into place and crossed over to the young Lieutenant’s bed. It was clear the kid wasn’t having a peaceful sleep. His sheets had been pushed down to his ankles, and his t-shirt was soaked with sweat, his curling hair sticking to his forehead. He’d whimpered again, thrashing out against something and Hannibal just knew he was going to have to do something.
Cautiously, he’d crouched down beside the kid’s bed, and reached out a hand, placing it gently on Face’s shoulder.
The kid hadn’t been wearing earplugs, despite the fact Hannibal knew Hound and Banks had each given him a pair, and he’d watched Face stow away the little gifts with the utmost care, gratitude clear on his face.
“Face.” He’d muttered, a little louder, and he shook the shoulder beneath his hand gently. “Come on, kid, wake up.”
Nothing had happened, except Face shuddering under his touch and his hands gripping the sheets so hard his knuckles turned white.
“Face!” He’d spoken sharply, still not overly loud, and given the kid one more hard shake and there! Face’s eyes started to open and he was panting harshly as he drew air into his lungs.
“Boss?” He’d asked, unsure of the situation he’d woken up into, and he struggled up into a sitting position.
“Bad dream, kid?” Hannibal squeezed his shoulder gently.
Face had flushed at that, and dropped his gaze, mumbling something that Hannibal couldn’t hear, and shrugging Hannibal’s hand off his shoulder.
“What?” Hannibal asked, leaning in a little closer.
“’s nothing boss. Sorry, won’t happen again.”
Hannibal had snorted at that, which made Face look up sharply, his defence mechanisms already starting to lock down into place.
“If you can control what you dream of, Face, you’re a more intelligent man than me.” Hannibal soothed him, talking Face down from his defensive ledge. “Come on.”
He stood up, heading for the other side of the sizeable tent Face had somehow managed to commandeer for them, to where his own bunk was waiting. He probably should have his own sleeping quarters, away from his men being their commanding officer and all, but he prefers to build team spirit and nothing bonds a team more than when you’re all living and sleeping in exactly the same situation. The only homage to his superior status was the curtain the boys had rigged around his bunk and desk, to give him a little semblance of privacy. Face, so used to following orders, didn’t even question Hannibal’s strange request. He just got out of bed and padded over to Hannibal’s little section.
Hannibal had hung up his jacket and was sitting at his desk to pull his boots off when Face slipped through the little curtain. He’d pointed over at the bed at Face’s arrival.
“Why, boss, I didn’t realise you felt this way about me.” Face had grinned, his “happy-go-lucky” mask now firmly in place. But Hannibal could see that his hands were shaking slightly, and he was still sweaty and rumpled.
He’d rolled his eyes at Face’s comment. “I always find, Lieutenant, that when I’ve had a bad dream, it’s better to have company. Makes the dream seem less real. So get in.”
Face’s mask had slipped a little by now, and he was fidgeting. “You have bad dreams boss?”
“Of course I do, kid. Everyone here has bad dreams.”
He’d deflated a little at that answer. “They don’t stop?” He’d asked, sounding so helpless that Hannibal had stopped changing into his sleeping shorts and turned back to the kid.
“Not really Face. That’s why it’s better to have company to face them.”
Face had still looked unsure, his eyes darting back into the main area of the tent.
“They won’t think any less of you, Face, I can promise you that. So come on, get in.”
Hannibal had led the way, sliding under the cool sheet and settling himself down. There was a pause, then the bed dipped again as Face slid in, cautiously.
“Goodnight, kid.” He’d turned on his side and closed his eyes, letting Face adjust to where he was in his own good time.
Eventually, just as he was about to drop off, he’d heard a quiet, “Night boss.” And then he could feel the tension leave Face’s body as the boy drifted off to sleep.
In the morning, nothing had felt weird or wrong. Face had woken up just as Hannibal was sitting up and swinging his legs to the floor.
Face had sat up himself, scrubbing at his face and running his fingers through his hair, and then yawning loudly before answering.
Face had nodded. “Better, thanks.” He’d stood, stretching out his back before making to head back to his own bunk.
“Hey, Face.” Hannibal had reached out and touched his wrist. “You have a bad dream? Feel free to come on in.”
Face had smiled at him. “Thanks, boss.”
And that was how it started. Hannibal had been happy to help out his new Lieutenant, and it wasn’t as if Face had been slipping into his bed every night when they were with their first team; just on occasion after a bad mission or an awkward date for the kid.
He’d found himself with an unexpected bed partner more frequently when Morrison asked Hannibal to make a more select team of just the two of them, but to be fair to Face, that was usually because they were forced to share a bed when out on missions or intel scouting. The kid hadn’t been adverse to it in the slightest, and Hannibal had had to remind him that he was the boss and yes, he did deserve the majority of the covers.
That had been a hard fought battle, and Hannibal had celebrated victory before he realised that Face took this to mean that he could use Hannibal as his cover instead. So then Hannibal had had to make a decision; be extra warm, with the majority of the covers and a warm body sleeping in extremely close proximity to his, or freeze to death. It hadn’t really been that much a decision to make.
By the time Murdock and Bosco rounded out their team, Hannibal had become so used to Face sleeping in his bed, bad dreams or not, that he realised the kid had conditioned him to sleep in a certain way. Now, when Face wasn’t in his bed, whether they were on a mission or not, Hannibal found himself somewhat bereft and his arm was left wondering what to do when it wasn’t wrapped around the kid’s waist to keep him from falling off the usually narrow bunk.
He’d bawled the kid out for that the next morning and the Lieutenant’s completely unrepentant face had only confirmed his suspicions.
“Fucker.” Hannibal had growled at him.
“It’s only fair boss, you get the covers, I get to use you as a pillow.”
“I feel that I said you’d be welcome in my bed only after having a bad dream, kid.” Hannibal had retorted, for some reason feeling mulish and snappy.
The kid’s face had fallen slightly and at that, Hannibal felt like he’d just punched himself in the gut.
“Sorry, boss. I’ll stop if you want. It’s just…” He trailed off and scuffed the tip of his boot in the dust.
Face shrugged. “I never get bad dreams when I sleep with you. Figured if I started in your bed then the bad dreams wouldn’t come.” He shrugged again. “And they haven’t.”
Internally, Hannibal sighed. He couldn’t begrudge the kid that. He was just being a grumpy old man, and that wasn’t the kid’s fault in the slightest.
“I’m sorry, kid. I’m being an ass. You don’t have to stop.”
The beam that lit up the kid’s face made Hannibal’s heart clench, and it was at that moment that he realised his problem with Face sharing his bed might not be down to the fact that he was basically sleeping in a furnace and had become the kid’s portable pillow. It might be something a whole lot more problematic than that.
His ominous suspicions turned out to be correct. If he was honest with himself, he’d become used to the heat. There was nothing wrong with the kid sharing his bed, except Hannibal’s own body. Turned out, his body really liked sleeping next to Face. In fact, there didn’t seem to be a morning anymore, no matter how life threatening the situation was, when he didn’t wake up with the kid mashed into one shoulder, and his cock trying to drill a hole out of his underwear.
Murdock and Bosco now just took it for granted that Face slept in the same bed as the boss. This became apparent when they arrived in Iraq and Hannibal left the boys to set up their tent to go and speak with Morrison. He came back to find Murdock firing up the grill, Face spread out with his feet in a kid’s paddling pool that he’d already managed to scam from somewhere, and Bosco salivating over the motorbike that had been delivered to him to fix up. He’d nodded at them and headed into their tent to find a fresh t-shirt.
He only noticed something was wrong when he realised that the kit bag he was digging through at the side of his bed was Face’s. He sure as hell didn’t own any Armani t-shirts. He pushed Face’s bag to the side, and grabbed for his own. He was changing out his shirt when it hit him.
“Face!” Even muffled by a t-shirt, his bellow still carried clearly outside to his sunbathing Lieutenant.
“Yeah, boss?” He stuck his head inside the tent and raised an enquiring eyebrow.
“Is this my bunk?” He asked, indicating the bed beside him.
Face nodded, clearly bemused by the question.
“So where’s your bunk then?”
Face glanced around the tent, even though he clearly knew the answer. “Um.”
“I’m waiting, kid.”
Face grinned. “Murdock set it up. He thought that he’d make things easier and just give us one bed.”
“So where did the other bed go?”
“I believe it’s under the grill. He wanted a platform to cook on.”
“And you didn’t think to stop him?”
“Sorry boss. I’d left Bosco in charge while I went to see what goods I could get us.”
“And that’s where you found the paddling pool.”
“Yeah! It’ll help keep our beer cool.”
“Anything else?” Hannibal asked, already resigning himself to sharing his bed with Face on a continual basis. His nether regions certainly seemed interested in that.
“Slim pickings at the moment, but Murdock’s got steaks for tonight’s dinner, and there’s a shipment due in tomorrow so I’ll see what I can do.”
“Well done kid.”
Face grinned at him for a moment more before he turned to resume his tanning whilst Hannibal tried to think of ways to control his rebellious genitals.
It turned out that the stern talking to his gave himself didn’t help in the slightest. He woke early the next morning, Face wrapped around him like a limpet, and with a morning wood so hard he was surprised Face hadn’t complained about the draft coming in under the covers. He managed to unwrap himself from Face and get himself out of the bed before the kid woke up.
He grabbed his shoes and decided to go for a run as punishment. This was getting ridiculous. The kid was intuitive and it would be sooner rather than later before he realised something was wrong with Hannibal’s behaviour. The kid could read him like a book; he always knew what the boss needed, or wanted, or was about to ask. It was a slightly terrifying skill that the kid had, but it was a valuable one for when they were out on missions and it had saved both their lives on many occasions. He’d have to tell the kid what was happening, and hope that Face just thought it was one of those natural reactions; bodies in close proximity, no stress relief for a while, that kind of thing. He knew that despite the kid’s incessant flirting with anything with legs, he hadn’t had any kind of relationship with anyone since Sosa, so it would be believable anyway. Hannibal knew that Face looked up to him and trusted him; he didn’t want the kid to think that Hannibal only stuck around because of his lustful thoughts. No, Hannibal believed that the kid shouldn’t have to deal with an old Colonel’s lustings over his Lieutenant. This was his issue, not Face’s.
He’d made his decision but he didn’t actually get a chance to talk to Face that day. Breakfast was a team affair and he sure as hell wasn’t going to bring this up with Murdock and B.A. listening in. The abuse would never end. After breakfast, Hannibal had CO duties to attend to, meetings with Morrison about upcoming objectives, other officers to catch up with and duties to figure out for himself and his team. Meanwhile Face had taken Murdock to check out the infirmary and see what kind of drugs they could scam for the pilot without him actually having to be subject to the doctors there, and then he’d gone on a general scamming mission when news of the shipment of goods and luxuries arrived. Hannibal didn’t see the rest of his team until dinner, and after that, B.A. had asked him to come check something on his latest mechanical project and the pair of them had become so engrossed that they hadn’t even heard Face and Murdock turning in for the night.
Face was already ensconced in Hannibal’s bed, when B.A. and Hannibal finally entered their tent, wrapped up like a caterpillar in the blankets to combat the cold of the desert at night. Hannibal grimaced at the thought of the imminent battle of trying to get Face to relinquish some warmth. He was pleasantly surprised then that when he slid onto the bed, Face immediately turned into him, opening up the blankets and letting Hannibal into the warmth. He pulled the boy closer as Face reached out to him, looking for his usual spot on Hannibal’s shoulder. It was so damned natural for the kid’s arm to slip over his stomach and his thigh to slid in between Hannibal’s, and in return for Hannibal to take a hold of his hip and wriggle his other arm under the kid’s neck and into his soft hair, and Hannibal realised with a jolt that he didn’t want to write this off as merely natural body reactions. He was finally coming to the realisation that he wasn’t just in lust with the boy, it was full blown love. The wave of protectiveness he felt for all the men under his command had somehow morphed into something much more potent with his devoted little Lieutenant. The kid had remained asleep, all through this little manoeuvring, and Hannibal marvelled at the trust that Face placed in him. Hannibal sighed heavily, decided that he couldn’t be bothered dealing with all this late-night musings, and went to sleep.
He woke later that night to whimpering. He blinked, trying to figure out where the noise was coming from when he realised it was coming from Face. The kid was clutching at Hannibal’s t-shirt and tugging hard. He’d somehow managed to curl himself into a ball at Hannibal’s side and he appeared to be biting down on his forearm, sweat running down his nose and slicking his curls to his forehead.
Hannibal was sitting up immediately, one hand shaking Face awake.
“Face, come on kid. Come on, wake up.”
There was no reaction, and Face only shook harder as he whimpered in what sounded like pain.
“Hannibal?” Murdock’s voice sounded from the other side of the tent.
“Its okay, Captain, Face is just having a bad dream. Just trying to wake him up.”
“You need a hand, or…” Murdock trailed off.
“Don’t worry, crazy, Boss’ll get it under control.” Bosco’s calm voice said, and Hannibal could make out the dim shape of Murdock taking refuge on Bosco’s bunk.
“Face.” Hannibal returned his attention to the Lieutenant, who still had not woken. “Face!” He barked; now that he knew the rest of the tent was awake, he had no issue raising his voice a little more.
At Hannibal’s tone, that of a narked Colonel, Face jolted awake, still clutching onto Hannibal’s shirt so hard he heard the tear of a seam. He was panting heavily, and he hadn’t worked out where he was yet so his fist flew towards Hannibal’s jaw before either of them knew what was happening. Somehow, Hannibal managed to whip his head back so Face’s fist merely embedded itself into the pillow. Hannibal was immediately on the offensive, twisting round and straddling the kid, pinning his fists down.
Face yelped, the fear evident in his voice, and Hannibal was running out of ideas fast. Yelling at the kid wasn’t helping, and the longer he pinned him down, the less likely it would be that Face would realise where he was. So Hannibal did the first thing that came into his mind. He bent down and kissed him.
This new turn of events obviously didn’t fit in with whatever reality Face believed himself to be in as there was no reaction. He stopped struggling, his body went limp and his eyes finally refocused and stared up at Hannibal.
Hannibal pulled back abruptly, but kept Face’s wrists pinned, just in case.
“Boss?” He asked, confusion evident in his face.
“Hey kid, you were having a nightmare. Couldn’t get you back to us.”
Face still looks a touch confused. “So you kissed me?” He asked.
There was a snort of laughter from the other side of the tent.
“Aw man!” Murdock’s voice rang out. “We missed Bossman kissing Face?”
Bosco snickered loudly.
Even in the darkness, Hannibal could feel his face turning an alarming red colour. “It was an improvised move, Captain.” He growled in reply.
“You couldn’t think of nothing else to do, boss?” Bosco asked and Hannibal could hear Murdock sniggering into Bosco’s shoulder.
“I had to use both my hands to pin him down!” Hannibal replied, testily, and why was he even still arguing this with his men?
“Really, boss, if you’d wanted to just kiss me, you could have said.” Face interjected himself into the conversation, and Hannibal realised he was still straddling the kid, his hands pinned over his head and he looked terrifyingly good, stretched out like that.
Immediately Hannibal withdrew, rolling himself off Face and turning on his side, his back to the rest of his team.
“I’m glad you’re okay Face. Now, goodnight.”
There was the sound of a scuffle from the other side of the tent as Bosco tried to get Murdock to return to his own bunk. When the pair of them eventually settled down, Hannibal noted that Murdock hadn’t actually returned to his own bunk. Soon B.A.’s snores filled the tent, and Hannibal could hear Murdock chattering quietly to himself, the way he always did right before he drifted off.
He shifted round in the bunk, turning back to Face and propping himself up on his elbow.
“You okay, kid?” He asked.
Face hadn’t moved; still lying on his back and his breathing hadn’t quite gone back to normal yet.
Hannibal reached out and touched his shoulder, and Face turned to him.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m good. Thanks boss.”
“You sure?” Hannibal couldn’t help but reach out his hand and push the sweaty hair off of the kid’s forehead.
“Yeah, it’s gone. Can’t even remember what it was about.” He smiled shakily up at Hannibal, who nodded, eyes still searching his face.
“Thought you said you didn’t get bad dreams when you were in my bed?”
The silence was filled by Bosco’s snores as Face shrugged as best one could when they were still lying flat on their back.
Face gave him a sheepish look. “I went to bed before you.”
“Does that make a difference?”
“But surely this has happened before.”
Face laughed, softly. “No way boss. You never let anyone else take first watch, you always make sure you’re the last one in, because you think it’s your responsibility to make sure we’re safe.”
“Well it is.” Hannibal sounded indignant at the thought that someone else should be responsible for the safety of Bosco, Murdock and Face.
“I know, Hannibal. I know.” Face grinned up at him, pulling Hannibal back down onto the bunk and shifting him until he was lying in a position that was acceptable to Face. “Goodnight, boss.”
Hannibal let himself be moved into position, letting the kid settle down into his comfortable position before he wrapped his arms around the young man, even if he was a little confused about the turn of events that had happened that evening. “Night Face.”
Face waited a few moments, for the silence to really stretch, before he craned his neck a little, reaching up to whisper in Hannibal’s ear.
“Oh and Hannibal? Tomorrow we’re going to talk about that kiss, and also why you’re constantly waking up with a hard on the size of the Statue of Liberty.”
Then he pressed his lips to Hannibal’s cheek and settled down, his eyes closing immediately and his breathing evening out into the slow, deep pattern of sleep.
Hannibal lay there, motionless. The little fucker!
The next morning, Face was awake first. Hannibal hadn’t thought that he’d be able to sleep but he must have at some point, because he woke to Murdock serenading B.A. about toothbrushes, and Face digging in his kit bag for some clothes. At first, the events of the night before didn’t make themselves known to Hannibal; it always took him just a few moments to properly figure out where he was when they were back on base. He grunted as he sat up, taking note of B.A.’s supposed threats to Murdock. Face lifted his head, grinning at him.
“Morning, kid.” Hannibal reached for his own bag, half-thinking about telling B.A. that no one believed he’d do any harm to Murdock, when he realised that Face hadn’t moved; he was still crouched by the bed, staring at Hannibal with a massive, shit-eating grin on his face.
“What?” Hannibal asked, his brain diverted to wondering if the coffee that morning would taste slightly better than the mud they were serving yesterday.
“Just… looks like it’s a real good morning for you, sir.” Then Face winked at him, pulled on his shirt and walked out of the tent.
Hannibal’s gaze dropped to his lap where he noticed that his not-so-little problem was making itself wonderfully known that morning, and the events of the night before came flooding back. Face’s bad dream. Him kissing Face. And then the whispered little words that had kept him awake for a further two hours, while the kid wrapped himself around Hannibal like a goddamned octopus and snuggled in to Hannibal’s warmth. He groaned, loudly, and flopped back onto the bed. Today, he could just tell, was going to be horrendous.
In actual fact, the day wasn’t that bad. Face had managed to sort out the coffee situation so that Hannibal’s morning beverage actually smelt like coffee beans, and then he was further entertained by watching his boys thoroughly whip Pike and his Black Forest boys in the obstacle course that the soldiers had constructed through sheer boredom. Russ presented him with a new mission and Hannibal could feel the beginnings of a truly spectacular plan begin to grow in his brain; by lunchtime he had the whole thing worked out and by dinner he’d compiled a list of things for Face to scam for them, and by the time he turned off his desk lamp, he’d written the rough beginnings of a outline for his team. Tomorrow morning, it would be finished and by that afternoon, the four of them would be discussing and sharpening the beast until they were certain it was foolproof. A job well done, Hannibal felt he more than deserved a whisky or two with his team.
Their reputations had apparently proceeded them, which meant they were left to their own devices and no one really came near them when they were seated together in front of their tent. Murdock had his guitar out when Hannibal joined them. Face shifted over, automatically handing Hannibal the glass he had poured for him as he sat down beside his Lieutenant.
“Good day, boss?” Face asked, smiling over at him.
“Very good day, kid. You’ll find out why tomorrow.” He smirked.
“You got some crazy-ass plan for us, Hannibal?” Bosco asked and then laughed at the gleam in Hannibal’s eye.
“Bossman’s always got a damn crazy plan for us, Bosco!” Murdock strummed a few notes as he watched his Colonel. “Bossman’s on the jazz.”
Hannibal simply raised his drink to the three of them.
Face threw a significant look over to Murdock, who grinned and nodded.
“Well, Bossman,” he said, standing up and cradling his guitar, kicking B.A. in the shin as he did so, “think me and Bosco are going to turn in for the night. Need to get a good night’s sleep for all that planning tomorrow.”
Hannibal looked a little surprised; it was still fairly early after all, but he shrugged and didn’t really take notice of the way Murdock was dragging B.A. with him; Murdock was always hanging off B.A. like some kind of monkey.
He took another sip of his drink, and fumbled in his pocket for a cigar. There was a click of a lighter beside him and he turned to see Face holding out the flame to him, grinning.
“Looks like it’s just me and you, boss.”
Hannibal looked round the fire and shrugged. “Suppose it is kid.” He raised the cigar to his mouth.
“So, do you think now would be a good time to talk about what happened last night?”
Hannibal made such a racket as he choked on his cigar smoke that Murdock’s voice sounded from inside the tent, cautiously inquiring if everything was alright and did Face need him to perform a Heimlich manoeuvre? Face assured him that his services as doctor weren’t needed at that moment as he thumped Hannibal on the back.
When he’d eventually gotten his breath back, he ground out the cigar, placed his glass on the ground and turned to Face, who was sitting expectantly, looking at him and waiting, a blithe little smile on his face.
“Give me a little bit of a warning before you launch into that, kid.”
“Why?” Face asked, a grin creeping up his features. “It’s not as if you warned me of that kraken in your pants. I nearly had a heart attack the first time I woke up and saw that thing just standing to attention there.”
Hannibal wondered if it were possible to die from embarrassment.
“I mean,” Face carried on, like Hannibal wasn’t sitting there having a minor panic attack, “I’d heard the rumours, and I’ve been with you for long enough to know that what you’re hiding down there is pretty fucking huge, but Christ! If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you were keeping a tree in your pants boss!”
Face looked, Hannibal noted, entirely too happy about that pronouncement.
Hannibal dropped his head in his hands and sighed heavily, which handily caught Face’s attention and stopped his enthusiastic monologue.
“Shit, kid, I’m sorry.”
Face stopped, and looked at Hannibal, genuinely confused. “Sorry? What for?”
“For this!” Hannibal waved his hand in the general direction of his crotch and the frown on his Lieutenant’s face deepened.
“I’m not following.”
“Jesus!” Hannibal looked up at the kid. “I’m sorry that I keep waking up with a fucking hard-on.”
“Why?” The poor boy still looked utterly bewildered.
“I don’t know; lack of company in that area I suppose.” Hannibal knew he should tell Face the truth but he couldn’t bear to see the kid look at him in disgust. “You know how it gets when you haven’t had anything… like that in a while, and let’s face it-”
He was cut off by Face holding up a hand. “No, I mean, why are you sorry for it?”
Now it was Hannibal’s turn to look confused. “I don’t understand.”
“Why are you sorry for it, boss?”
“Because… because…” Hannibal was a little stumped at the way this conversation was progressing. “Well, it’s not like you wake up every day to find that in your bed.”
“Actually, I do. I sleep in your bed pretty much every night.” Face pointed out.
“Ah.” Hannibal paused. The kid was right. “But that shouldn’t be normal, though, right?”
Face shrugged. “You’ve never exactly been an ordinary man, Hannibal.”
Another point to the kid. Hannibal was fairly certain he’d lost track of what this conversation was supposed to be about.
Face, it seemed, took pity on him. “Boss. Did it ever cross your mind that I rather wanted you to wake up like that?”
“Apparently not, then.” He smirked, smugly, and stood. “Come on, let’s go inside.”
Hannibal, now seemingly struck dumb, just stood and followed him inside. Face was sitting on their shared bunk and he smiled up at Hannibal, patting the bed beside him in what Hannibal presumed was supposed to be a comforting manner.
“Didn’t really think this was a conversation we should have outside.” He explained and Hannibal nodded.
“What about B.A. and Murdock?”
“They’ve decided to try out those noise-cancelling earplugs that everyone has been going on about in camp.” Face explained and Hannibal laughed.
“Decided that all by themselves, did they?”
Face shrugged, smiling. “I merely made a recommendation.”
“Okay, kid. So, explain to me what’s going on here.”
“You really are that dense?” Face asked, laughing at the outraged expression on Hannibal’s face.
“Hannibal, boss.” He pulled a knee up onto the bed, turning to face Hannibal directly. “Why do you really think that I sleep attached to you like a limpet?”
“Because I’ve got the majority of the covers. You’d get cold, otherwise.”
“And that’s really very noble of you boss, but I can categorically assure you that that’s not the full reason.” He shifted closer, tracing a finger across one of Hannibal’s hands, suddenly looking incredibly unsure, and Hannibal hated seeing uncertainty on the kid’s face.
“Face…” He reached out, cupping the kid’s cheek and Face smiled at him, relaxing into his touch.
“I like that you wake up like that Hannibal, because it makes me think that maybe you are attracted to me.”
“Oh kid.” Hannibal tried to interrupt, but Face wasn’t having any of it.
“Because, Jesus, Hannibal, I’ve been in love with you since you first let me sleep in your bed, when you promised that you’d help me through the night. You’ve been the one person that has constantly been there for me, and goddammit, if I could get away with sleeping next to you, touching you, then I was going to do it.”
It was Hannibal’s turn to shift closer, thumb stroking Face’s cheek as he watched the boy in wonder.
“And then you started waking up like that. At first, I thought it was just a natural reaction, because yeah, a warm body next to yours after months in the field, who could blame you. But when I didn’t sleep in your bed, you never woke up like that.”
Damn, the kid looked so vulnerable, baring his heart and soul to Hannibal that he could barely stand it.
“And when you kissed me last night, I got my hopes up real high. Maybe, maybe you felt something back? So I promised myself that I’d talk to you about it but, then you said out there that you were sorry for it and now I don’t know what to think and-”
This time, Hannibal cut Face off. He leant in, and kissed the boy again, sliding his hand round to capture the back of his head and pull him closer. Face whimpered into his mouth, melting forward into his touch and trying to climb onto Hannibal’s lap.
Hannibal immediately wrapped his arms around Face’s waist, pulling him closer into his body, desperately trying to tell Face everything in their kiss. He broke away only as his lungs started screaming for air, resting his forehead against Face’s and watching the emotions race over his face.
“Kid, I never in a million years thought you would fall for me. I was going to brush it off so you wouldn’t have to deal with the awkwardness of your CO falling in love with you.”
Face’s eyes began to take on a suspicious shine.
“I thought you’d think I was some kind of lecherous old Colonel, and that your actions were entirely innocent. I didn’t want to take them the wrong way and ruin your trust in me.”
Face managed a watery smile. “My actions weren’t entirely innocent.”
Hannibal laughed. “Yeah, I can see that now.”
Face beamed at him, pressing his nose against Hannibal’s cheek. “So, this is real?”
“I promise you this is real. I love you, Face.”
The kid practically purred in happiness, winding his arms around Hannibal’s neck and smiling so hard Hannibal was worried the kid’s cheeks would crack.
“I love you too.” He stood up, stripping quickly down to his shorts before he burrowed under the covers and looked up expectantly at Hannibal.
“Come on then.”
Hannibal shook his head, growling something about brats as Face laughed, but he undressed quickly and slid in next to him. Face wrapped himself around Hannibal like clockwork, holding on tightly as he nuzzled his face into Hannibal’s neck, breathing in deeply. Hannibal’s arms were already reaching for him, tugging him closer and curling up into his hair.
“In the morning,” Face said, softly, one hand trailing just a little lower on Hannibal’s stomach than normal, “I’m going to really enjoy helping you get rid of your morning wood.”
“Jesus, kid!” Hannibal captured that wandering hand in his own, pulling it up to press a kiss to the palm before settling it back over his stomach. “You do that, and we’ll test out how much noise those earplugs really cancel out.”
He felt Face’s grin against his neck. “I look forward to it boss.”
He drew the boy in closer for a brief moment, kissing the top of his head and Face held tightly on to him. “Goodnight, kid.”
Hannibal had never slept so soundly, and nor had he ever been as glad to have woken with his “little problem” that next morning.
B.A. and Murdock found out that their earplugs weren’t as effective as they hoped they might be.