Motivation - H/F - Part 2

By the time Hannibal had hauled Face back to his room, stopping at the bar for some ice on the way up, the kid was just about walking under his own steam. Hannibal opened the door with Face’s key card and told him to lie on one of the two single beds.

 

“I’m covered in sand,” Face mumbled, still a little slurred, “It’s been nice sleeping in a bed with no sand in it.”

 

Hannibal laughed, yeah, three months in a desert warzone makes you appreciate the simple things in life, like sheets with no sand in them.

 

“Well, which bed are you sleeping in then, kid? And I’ll put you on the other one.”

 

“I was sleeping in them both...” Face’s voice had that little edge of a whine to it.

 

“Both?” Hannibal was hot, tired, starving hungry and just a little strung out by the events of the day and in no mood to try and second guess his probably concussed lieutenant, “You can’t sleep in both beds.”

 

“I can,” Face stood up a little straighter, “I was gonna alternate, you know one night in one, one night in the other,”

 

“I know what alternate means,” Hannibal muttered.

 

“Get my money’s worth,” Face finished up and Hannibal laughed. Get his money’s worth? This circus wasn’t costing them a cent, wasn’t even costing the army a cent. All backed by some business enterprise, the army and industry working together in harmony. Bullshit was Hannibal’s opinion. It was the army cutting costs and a chance for PMCs to get a look at the military’s up and coming finest, prune them off for their own organisations. Still, it was nice to stay in a swish hotel for a change, so he wasn’t really complaining.

 

Hannibal noticed Face’s travel alarm on the bedside table nearest the window and so dumped the kid on the bed they were standing next to, “You’ll have to stay in the other one,” he told him firmly, “Now, lie still and let me have a look at the damage that gorilla did to you.”

 

Face’s hair was short, too short in Hannibal’s opinion. While they had been in Iraq the kid had let it grow, but then buzzed it all off again as soon as they landed back home, Hannibal had liked it longer, liked the way the soft waves caught the light...

 

He mentally shook himself, Get a grip, Smith he growled in his head and stooped to examine the back of Face’s skull. The bump was obvious, clearly purpling under the sparse covering of hair and Hannibal ignored Face’s hiss as he probed around it with his fingers before pushing the ice pack into place. “You’ll live,” he muttered as he sat on the edge of the bed, holding the ice over the bump, and tried not to watch the way the muscles in Face’s back shifted as he breathed.

 

After ten minutes of silence, Face shuffled uncomfortably on the bed, “Boss,” his voice was much clearer now, just about back to normal, “That thing’s giving me brain freeze, and I’m desperate for a shower, can I get up now?”

 

Hannibal lifted the ice pack up and looked in satisfaction at the reduced lump before getting up and moving away, “Sure,” he said heading into the en-suite to flick the shower on, “But don’t stay in too long and make sure that you don't turn the heat up too high. I’ll order some room service while you’re in there.”

 

Face was in the doorway behind him now, a frown creasing his brow, “Thought we were going out?”

 

Hannibal registered the disappointment on the kid’s face and his stomach dropped; what had Dougie arranged with him for later? “That was before Tosh tried to crack your skull like an egg. Now we are eating in.” He knew he sounded snappy but he was past caring.

 

And then, almost magically, Face’s frown cleared, “You’re eating with me?” he asked and when Hannibal nodded he beamed, “Great! You can tell me how shit hot I am at volleyball then!” he laughed as he pushed past Hannibal and the older man was forced to look away double quick as Face dropped his shorts.

 

Insisting on leaving the bathroom door open so he could check that Face was still okay, Hannibal sat on the edge of the sandy bed and flicked through the room service menu. “Steak alright?” he shouted through to his lieutenant.

 

“Yup!” came the happy reply and Hannibal felt just some of his tension slip away.

 

Hannibal ordered then sat back on the bed reaching for the remote control when Face shouted through from the shower again, “You know boss, I think you were a little hard on Tosh there... I mean it’s not like he hit me on purpose.”

 

Hannibal raised an eye at the steam covered mirror where he could just make out Face’s head and shoulders and considered telling the kid just how naive he was being. But no, that would involve explaining Dougie’s interest in him, and then he couldn’t be sure if it would hurt the kid’s feelings that Dougie was only giving him the time of day because he wanted to screw him or send him running right into the bastard’s arms. Hmmm, best to leave the kid to his happy ignorance.

 

He sighed as he watched Face squirt yet another handful of shampoo into his hand and wondered if they shouldn’t just give this up as a bad job and head back to the team. He’d only signed up for this damn course as he felt it would be good for the kid. He’d come into the army without any of the advantages that a lot of his peers enjoyed, a high ranking father or uncle of even god-father to pull on, a Military college back ground, a lifetime as an army brat, getting to know the ropes and getting people to know you. No, just like Hannibal before him, Face had come in with none of that, but unlike Hannibal, he didn’t even have the family back home who would push him and support him and help him to be the best he could. So Hannibal had seen this course and knew the kid would shine, knew he’d get his face known and that the brass would sit up and take notice, and then hopefully someone somewhere would be there for the kid when it mattered.

 

But at what price? They’d only been here twenty four hours and already Hannibal was trying to keep the wolves off his boy’s ass and he’d been physically assaulted, even though the damn kid didn’t even realise it. Maybe this had been a bad idea... But then Face started singing in the shower, and Hannibal realised he couldn’t pull him out when he was having such a good time; he’d just have to do a better job of looking out for him.    

 

Just as Hannibal decided on this course of action, there was a knock at the door. He pulled the en-suite shut slightly, and mentally marvelling at how fast room service had been, swung the door to the corridor wide open.

 

It was hard to say who was the most surprised, Hannibal or Dougie as they stared at each other across the threshold of Face’s room, but it was Dougie who recovered enough to speak first.

 

“Hey, Johnnie, I thought this was Face’s room.”

 

Hannibal stiffened; Dougie knew damn well that he hated being called Johnnie, “It is. He’s in the shower,” Hannibal bit back.

 

“Right...” they looked at each other for a second and Hannibal made sure that his bulk filled the entire door frame, “He left his t-shirt down there,” Dougie offered, holding the garment out, “And I wanted to check he was okay after the accident.”

 

Hannibal snatched the still sweat damp t-shirt from Dougie’s hand, “Accident?” he growled, “Some fucking accident. What is the matter with your boy? He could have killed him!”

 

Dougie frowned and folded his arms, looking at Hannibal thoughtfully, “Are you suggesting Tosh hit him on purpose?” Hannibal didn’t answer but his blue eyes were like glass as they stared at Dougie who shook his head slowly, “No, no, amigo, you have got that all wrong, Tosh nearly cracked his elbow on Face’s thick head, would never have done that on purpose. And anyway, what the hell motivation would he have?”

 

“Speaking of motivation,” Hannibal lowered his voice, “Why are you so interested in my LT then Dougie?”

 

Dougie’s answer was instantaneous, “Because he’s with you, and you’re my friend, Hannibal, and if I can give the boy a bit of a leg up one day, you know I will, just like I’d hope you would for Tosh or any of the others.”

 

“It’s not just ‘cause you want to fuck him, then?”

 

If Hannibal was hoping to embarrass Dougie, he was seriously disappointed as the other man just laughed, “If he was up for it, of course, but you assure me that he’s straight, wouldn’t be interested.”

 

“He’s not interested,” Hannibal bit out.

 

Dougie considered his old friend for a minute and glanced up and down the corridor before whispering, “Hannibal – are you fucking him?” Hannibal bristled and leaned forward a touch so Dougie put his hands up in a gesture of peace, “Look, don't get upset with me here, it’s just, if you are, I’ll leave well alone, that’s all, if he’s yours you know I’d never even lay a finger on him...”

 

Hannibal paused, the lie would be so easy, and would keep Face safe, but it would be a lie, and Hannibal hated lies... He shook his head, “I’m not fucking him,” he whispered, “But I do want you to leave him alone. He’s had enough bad shit happen in his life Dougie; he doesn’t need you adding to it.”

 

Dougie laughed, “I’m planning on showing him a good time Hannibal, not ruining his life!”

 

Eyes narrowed, Hannibal leant in further, “Charlie, I have had a ringside seat at too many of your ‘good times’ over the years and I don’t intend to watch you do the same to Face.”

 

The smile vanished from Dougie’s face, “You don’t own him.”

 

“Stay. Away. From. My. LT.” Hannibal whispered, his finger emphasising every point on Dougie’s chest.

 

There was an uncomfortable silence as the two men glared at each other, then, taking a step back Dougie whispered, “His choice, John, not yours,” the silence was strained, “And I’m sorry you feel like this. You really going to let this boy of yours ruin twenty years of friendship?”

 

Hannibal offered a thin smile, “No. But if you don’t stay away from him, that’s exactly what’s gonna happen.”

 

Dougie didn’t reply as Hannibal shut the door in his face but let out a wry smile as he walked away to see if Crunchie was busy as Hannibal’s shout of, “Face! Get the fuck out of that shower!” rang in his ears.

 

_________________________

 

Face never got his steak. Hannibal slammed the door shut on Dougie and threw Face’s t-shirt across the room in a temper before standing at the window, taking deep breaths and trying to calm himself down. He was aware of the shower shutting off, but after five minutes of deep breathing had settled his anger, realised that Face had not appeared.

 

He whirled on his heel muttering, “Fucking vain peacock...” before yanking open the en-suite and starting in on his tirade, “What did I tell you Face?” Steam enveloped him as the door opened, “Keep the heat down and make it quick and-”

 

He stopped as the steam parted and he managed to make out Face’s figure standing in the bathroom. Wet. Naked. Bending over. Ass pointing right at Hannibal. Breathing hard. Oh fuck... The sight went straight to Hannibal’s cock and he felt it thickening instantly in his shorts at the picture in front of him; he knew that this would stay with him on many a lonely night over the coming weeks. Months. Years...

 

Trying to clear the lust fuelled haze in his head Hannibal made himself think rationally about this; what the hell was Face doing, was this an invitation? But even as that thought hit his mind he realised that Face was shaking, and as the steam cleared further he noticed the pallor to his skin, and in a beat Hannibal was in the bathroom with him, throwing a hasty towel over his waist and wrapping it tightly before dragging him bodily out of the sauna like room.

 

“Wait,” Face almost gasped, and lurched for the toilet, just managing to get the lid up before losing the contents of his stomach down the pan. Hannibal stood behind him, ruefully rubbing his back and glad that the lieutenant was too preoccupied to notice the shameful erection, flagging now in the cold light of reality, that still tented his combat shorts.

 

“Told you not to turn the heat up,” Hannibal muttered as Face heaved once more. 

 

_________________________

 

Hannibal breakfasted on his own, or at least he tried to, but obviously Dougie and Tosh had other ideas.

 

“Mornin’ John!” Dougie was acting like the confrontation with Hannibal last night had never even happened and had his cheerful, ‘I got laid last night’ voice on him. Hannibal was glad that he had insisted on staying in Face’s room last night, in the sandy bed, because at least now he knew that Dougie had got his kicks elsewhere.

 

Hannibal watched Tosh gingerly carrying his plate one handed and swallowed some of his resentment, “How’s the arm, son?”

 

Tosh looked up and scowled, almost like he resented the pleasant tone to Hannibal’s enquiry, “Fine, sir,” he muttered and held Hannibal’s gaze until the colonel looked away.

 

Hannibal bit back a snappy retort and turned back to his sausages as Dougie asked, “Where’s Face?”

 

Meeting his eye Hannibal filled him in, “He’s in bed. Threw up last night so I called a doctor out to see him. He’s slightly concussed, won’t be coming down today.” He didn’t miss the look that passed between Tosh and Dougie, but had a hard time placing what it meant.

 

“Shame,” there was an odd smile in Dougie’s voice, and Hannibal watched as he clearly kicked Tosh under the table, “That’s what you get for being so damn clumsy!” before making a start on his croissant.

 

Hannibal frowned; Face was in bed, not himself, and he would be damned if he let Dougie out of his sight for one minute for the rest of the day.

 

______________________

 

Trailing Dougie was hard work. For the afternoon session they split into COs and ‘Future Leaders’ and the CO’s session was entitled, ‘Affective Mentors’. Hannibal rolled his eyes every time he saw those words and had always intended skipping this session; Russ was in town for a few days and wanted to talk to him about some forward plans he had. Originally Hannibal had earmarked this session as a good one to have other arrangements for, but now he definitely needed to keep Dougie under surveillance, there was no way he was going to let him go sneaking up to Face’s room...

 

The session was boring and as useless as Hannibal had thought it would be, but now they were done and he could head upstairs and check on his lieutenant. Unfortunately, a lieutenant colonel from one of the other subgroups who Hannibal knew from years back chose this particular moment to want to catch up and Hannibal watched in irritation as Dougie gave him a jaunty wave and disappeared out of the door.

 

By the time Hannibal got up to Face’s room there was no reply. A sweep of the bar and the terrace and the rest of the hotel drew a similar blank. Hannibal’s stomach was churning in frustration and trepidation when he finally decided to head to Dougie’s room, even though he was fully aware that he may not want to see what was happening in there.

 

He approached the room with caution and stood outside with his ear towards the heavy grain of the wooden surface listening for any sound from within for as long as he dared, then, when the lift at the end of the corridor pinged open and a group of business men came out talking loudly and laughing, Hannibal steeled himself and knocked firmly on the door.

 

There was no answer.

 

He knocked again, louder this time, but still nothing. He was just about to knock for the third time, irritation getting the better of him when he heard a door open behind him and turned to see Tosh, wearing only a pair of jeans, his chest hard and so well defined it seemed to be sculpted from marble, leaning on the door jamb staring at him.

 

“You looking for Dougie?” the words were innocuous, but the tone unmistakably insolent and Hannibal felt his hackles rising.

 

“Obviously.”

 

Tosh didn’t react to the snap in Hannibal’s voice, “He’s out. He’s taken Peck out to his house on the lake.”

 

“He’s what?!” Hannibal almost exploded.

 

“They went straight after the final session; apparently the colonel has something he wants to show him.”

 

“I fucking bet he does,” Hannibal muttered, seething with an unholy fury, “You got the address, son?”

 

Tosh didn’t speak for a minute, almost as if he was weighing something up in his mind before shrugging and turning back to the desk in his room, “Sure...”

 

_______________________________

 

It should have been a forty minute drive out to Dougie’s house, but Hannibal did it in just over thirty. It wasn’t until he was speeding down the driveway, car bouncing through pot holes, that he realised that he had been here, many years ago, when he and Dougie were still... close and his fury kicked up a notch when he remembered why Dougie had brought him here.

 

“I’ll kill you, you bastard...” Hannibal muttered as he swung his car to a standstill next to a pale blue fucking Aston Martin Vanquish, “If you have touched that kid I will kill you...” and he stormed round to the front of the house, the part overlooking the lake, where he knew the master bedroom was.

 

The French windows were open to the cool afternoon breeze and Hannibal barged straight in, too damn angry to think about what he might be interrupting but the sight that met him took his breath away and he stopped dead, his heart thumping loudly in his chest and his limbs frozen.

 

________________________

 

The huge futon bed was empty. Neat and made up with cushions and bolsters and a deep plum throw. Untouched. But that’s not what Hannibal saw, oh no.

 

The images in his head were almost twenty years old, two young men, soldiers, fit and strong, vying for dominance in the white sheets of the big bed.

 

’Charlie, don't, you know I don't want this, don’t...’

 

‘John, honey, trust me. I know what you want. I know you want me, you always have.’

 

‘I’m not ready for this.’

 

‘You are.’

 

‘Charlie, please...’

 

‘Shhh, John. I thought you loved me?’

 

‘You know I do, but I’m not ready...’

 

‘If you loved me, you’d want this, you’d want me to be happy.’

 

‘I do, Charlie, I just-’

 

‘Then relax. Let me in. Prove it to me...’

 

Suddenly the room was just too hot, the walls were closing in and the fear was back, gripping at Hannibal with memories of the pain and of being trapped and...

 

Before he knew it he was out on the deck, leaning over the railing, breathing hard and trying to get rid of the white spots dancing in his vision. It hadn’t always been like that with Dougie, but that first time, in fact all those first weeks... No, Hannibal shook away the ghosts of his past and stood up straight. He would die before he let that happen to Face.

 

An unintelligible shout met his ears and he lifted his head and looked out across the lake at a jet ski in the distance. Narrowing his eyes he could see the two riders on board and as the ski turned and headed more towards his side of the lake, Hannibal was sure that it was Face in the front, twisting the handlebars so that the ski wove and looped around the glass surface of the lake.

 

He felt the tension drip out of him, but the anger remained. He was in time, for now; Dougie had decided to linger on the aperitif rather than head straight to the main course, but his intent was clear. It was a message to Hannibal, telling his old friend that fighting was useless, that he’d already won, that Face was his for the taking whenever he wanted him.

 

But Dougie was underestimating Hannibal. Good. He could still do this; and he damn well would, he’d make sure that Face didn’t have anything stolen from him as Hannibal had had, all those years ago.

 

___________________________

Part Three