Motivation - H/F

[indigo_angels]

Part One

Hannibal leant back in his seat and lit a cigar, hating the way his dress uniform almost felt like it was choking him. Formal dinners were always so... formal, and tonight had been no exception. Lots of speeches, lots of grand introductions, sharing the vision of the future, preparing the leaders of tomorrow, yadda yadda ya. He’d heard it all before. But – what had stopped this night from being as utterly, mind blowingly dull as the last twenty something formal dinners that Hannibal had attended, was currently sitting at the end of the table, leaning forward in his seat, eyes wide and enraptured and so obviously hanging onto every word of the tale that Col. McArthur was currently regaling him with.

 

Smiling around his cigar, Hannibal conceded that there were probably very few true words in Charlie ‘Dougie’ McArthur’s story. They knew each other very well, and, almost as if he could feel Hannibal’s eyes on him, Dougie looked up and winked, before turning his attention back to Hannibal’s new lieutenant and reeling him even further into his tale of terror and heroism in the US Army. Hannibal shook his head. Damn if that kid wasn’t just made to wear his dress uniform. Even with his tie a little skewed and his top buttons open, he still looked fucking hot. In fact, that was probably because of the tie and the top buttons.

 

 

Cigar in one hand and scotch in the other, Hannibal indulged himself a little, and let his eyes stay on his old friend and his new project. Face had been with his team for a little over six months now, and never had a soldier acquired a more fitting nickname. The second Hannibal had laid eyes on the kid, his stomach had done that weird little flip-flop thing that hadn’t happened in years. He’d ignored it, obviously. He was the kid’s CO, there was the issue of DADT to consider, never mind the fact that the kid was so obviously heterosexual that it was laughable to consider even the slimmest possibility that they would...

 

 

Hannibal angrily shook his head. No, thoughts like that were no good at all. It didn’t matter how damn edible Face looked, or how quick and sharp and bright he shone, it made no difference at all that he managed to be so completely savvy and streetwise but undeniable naive and vulnerable all at the same time, and it certainly didn’t matter that he was fast and strong and positively lethal with his body - he was seriously off limits to Hannibal. And it would do him good to remind himself of that from time to time.

 

 

Both Face and Dougie were standing now, Dougie’s right hand resting casually on Face’s shoulder and Hannibal envied him the ability to do that without having to fight with his conscience and his proprieties first. They were almost the same height, maybe Face was an inch taller, and before Dougie’s thick head of hair had gone AWOL on him, they would have been about the same colour too. In fact there was a lot in Face that reminded him of Dougie fifteen years ago. He wondered if that’s what had drawn him to the kid in the first place.

 

 

He was dragged from his thoughts by Dougie landing in the chair next to him with a sigh and a thud. “Goddamnit, Hannibal,” he moaned, “I am just too old for this shit!”

 

 

Hannibal laughed, knowing that nothing could be further from the truth for his old friend, “Come on, Dougie,” he teased, “you know you are as young as you feel!”

 

 

“Hmmm,” Dougie’s eyes were not on Hannibal, but were turned onto the heaving throng around their table instead, “Or as young as the lieutenant you feel...” Hannibal got a strange chill in his chest, “And I tell you something, I would not mind giving that kid of yours a hell of a lot more than a feel...”       

 

 

Suddenly the temperature in the room seemed to kick up a few degrees and Hannibal needed to dig his finger under his collar to try and let a bit of air to his skin, “Kid’s as straight as an arrow,” he responded, surprised by how steady his voice sounded.

 

 

“Yeah?” Dougie patted him on the shoulder as he got up again, “So were you when I met you old friend. That means nothing at all...”

 

 

And then he was gone and Hannibal was left seething in his seat and thinking that perhaps the next two weeks might just be the longest of his life.

 

 

_____________________________

 

 

“And then he started telling me about when he was in Grenada and there was this local like, drugs lord kind of guy, and Dougie found out he’d been selling dope to the troops, and-”

 

 

“I know, kid,” Hannibal knew he was snapping, but in fairness Face didn’t even seem to notice so why should he care? “I was there as well you know.”

 

 

“Oh, I know, but do you know what Dougie did when he found out? About the drugs?”

 

 

Hannibal bit back the words he really wanted to say and satisfied himself with stabbing the button on the elevator with vicious intent instead.

 

 

It didn’t matter; Face didn’t seem to notice that Hannibal hadn’t answered, “He swapped all the gear - for talc! Oh, boss, that must have been quality! Imagine the look on that guy’s face when he found out that twenty million dollars of prime quality coke had been swapped for baby powder!”

 

 

The elevator doors pinged open and Hannibal looked round incredulously. Twenty million dollars? Where the hell had Dougie got that figure from? The guy had been a two-bit pusher, they’d have been lucky if he’d had twenty dollars of coke on him when they had done the switch and he was about to say as much to Face when he saw the kid’s expression, the way his eyes were shining and the obvious excitement that was just about spilling out of him. He shut his mouth and turned away again. He couldn’t do that, couldn’t pop the kid’s balloon just like that; didn’t seem right somehow.

 

 

Anyway, it didn’t matter. There were over sixty CO’s and ‘leaders of the future’ here for this convention, if he played his cards right, they’d manage to get through almost the whole thing without getting too close to Charlie McArthur again.

 

 

“Hannibal! Face!” Hannibal cursed his premature optimism and swung round to the sound of the very familiar voice calling him. There was Dougie and his own lieutenant, a loud, brash guy, built like a wall, who Hannibal had found very hard to like when he’d talked to him at last night’s dinner.

 

 

“Hey, boss, there’s Dougie and Tosh!” the enthusiasm in Face’s voice was nauseating, “Looks like they’ve saved us a couple of seats!”

 

 

“Oh, great,” Hannibal intoned flatly, but Face was already too far ahead to hear.

 

 

______________________

 

 

The morning wasn’t as bad as Hannibal had first feared it would be. Face had been waylaid momentarily by a female lieutenant he had obviously bedded at some point in his past and so that enabled Hannibal to slide into the seat right next to Dougie, leaving the one next to him for Face.

 

 

Dougie had looked a little disappointed and Hannibal had felt an immature rush of pleasure as he noticed. This was heightened when Face slid in beside him, his own cheeks slightly flushed in either embarrassment or pleasure, Hannibal wasn’t too sure, but it made him look even more desirable than usual.

 

 

“Old flame?” he muttered as the General up on the podium started to speak and Face turned to him, flashing one of his brightest smiles.

 

 

“Oh, yeah,” he whispered back, “and man, she was hot!”

 

 

Face however, had not been as quiet as he thought he was. Tosh’s lewd laugh was clearly audible in response to Face’s words, but it was Dougie’s irritated frown that lightened Hannibal’s heart.

 

 

Face being straight he could handle. Face getting laid by his old friend and ex-lover, he certainly could not.

 

 

__________________________

 

 

Lunch was an informal affair. Time for the larger group to split up into smaller ones and find out their timetable of activities for the next two weeks. Hannibal had had a moment’s panic when he wondered if they were going to be left to choose their own sub-groups, but relaxed again when they were told that the groups were pre-determined and would be posted up on the wall as they were eating. Safe in the knowledge that he and Face would soon be free of Dougie and Tosh, Hannibal didn’t let himself get worked up over the obvious lies that Dougie spent all of lunchtime spinning out to Face, and instead took the opportunity to watch Tosh.

 

 

Hannibal’s first impressions were usually pretty spot on, and after forty five minutes of observing the lieutenant, Hannibal was more than sure that he and Tosh were not going to get along. In a way he couldn’t really blame him for the way that he sat and scowled at Face throughout the whole of the lunch break, after all, it was Dougie that had selected Tosh for this ‘leaders of the future’ crap, and now Dougie was the one who was ignoring him for the sake of another CO’s lieutenant, But still, it didn’t give him the right to stare at Face like he was something the cat dragged in. None of this was the kid’s fault. Well, okay, maybe the shameless fawning was Face’s fault, but he could hardly be blamed since Dougie was so obviously going out of his way to dazzle him.

 

 

Eventually Hannibal had had enough of all three of them and moved over to the lists on the wall, eager to find their sub-group and move Face away from his new idol. It didn’t take him long to find his and Face’s names on the list and when he did so his stomach dropped into his boots, “Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me...” he muttered, the day, in fact the whole damn course, had suddenly taken a distinct downhill turn.    

 

 

___________________________

 

 

Hannibal glanced at the clock, three forty. Twenty minutes of this activity left, then ‘Coffee’ and then the damn ‘Plenary Session’. What the fuck was the point in all that?  He rubbed his brow trying to sooth the headache that artificial lighting and artificial air and bloody Dougie had brought on and looked back over at Face.

 

 

There was that flip-flop again. Face was leaning over the table, end of a pencil in his mouth, slightest frown on his face as he re-read the notes he had painstakingly jotted down over the last hour or so. He just looked... in fact, Hannibal couldn’t even think of a word he was comfortable in using here... but whatever it was, Face was it.

 

 

Eventually his blue eyes, still shining in excitement, lifted to meet Hannibal’s, “That’s it boss, I think we’ve got it all, covered all the bases.”

 

 

Despite his pounding head, Hannibal couldn’t help but grin back at him, “Excellent, lieutenant, well, go and hand it in then.”

 

 

Face kicked his chair back an inch then looked back up at his boss, his expression unsure, “I think you should read it over yourself first,” he slid the A4 over the table, “You know, check I’ve done it right.”

 

 

But Hannibal shook his head, “I trust you kid, I know you’ve done it right. Now go on, hand the damn thing in.”

 

 

Face’s whole expression lit up like a sunrise, “Okay!” he beamed at Hannibal, “And then I’ll go and take a leak, think I’ve got time?”

 

 

“Sure,” Hannibal reassured him and then kicked back to watch Face’s ass in his jeans disappear through the other tables up to the front. He saw the kid go to hand the paper over and then drop it before helping the flustered admin assistant to pick it up again out of the other piles of paper on the table. He flashed her one of his best and brightest smiles, before leaving her blushing furiously and turning towards the corridor for the toilets.

 

 

He felt Hannibal’s eyes on him and discreetly held one finger up in front of his chest, grinning like an idiot and Hannibal understood: they were the first pair to finish and get all the points successfully covered and he gave the kid a quick thumbs up in response, his heart hammering crazily in his chest. Why was he so super aware of Face at the minute? Was it all the time they were spending together without the rest of the unit? Or was it, more likely, the threat he felt coming off Dougie McArthur in waves?

 

 

The thought of the man made Hannibal realise that they hadn’t seen him for quite a while. On learning that they were going to be in the same group for the rest of the fortnight, Hannibal had made damn sure that the table he picked for the first exercise was as far away from Dougie and Tosh as he could possibly manage. He saw them now, in the far corner, Dougie reaching the answer sheet away from Tosh and scribbling something out, both their faces angry and frustrated. Tosh snatched the paper back and began writing frantically, Dougie leaning over him, his mouth moving fast and furiously as he took a quick look at his watch.

 

 

Hannibal hid a smile behind his hand and looked up as he heard Face, relaxed and confident, return to their table.

 

 

_________________________

 

 

During coffee, Dougie made his way over and sat next to Hannibal again, sighing loudly; Face was in the queue for pastries and Tosh, nowhere to be seen.  

 

 

“Well, Amigo,” he muttered, sipping at his coffee, “how do you fancy trading LT’s? A big guy like Tosh there would be more than useful in your adventure club, hey?”

 

 

Hannibal stiffened and bought himself time by taking a mouthful of his own, too hot, too bitter coffee. He knew Dougie very, very well. The guy was a predator, the thrill of the hunt was what kept him going, and if Hannibal didn’t stop him here, he would hunt Face down, chew him up and spit him out the other side when he was done with him, Hannibal had seen him do it before, had almost had it happen to him, and there was no way on this earth that he was going to let Dougie do that to Face. But he had to be careful, if Hannibal over reacted here, made Dougie think that his actions were anything other than a normal CO looking out for his normal lieutenant, then that would make Dougie’s hunt three times more fun and three times more dangerous for Face.

 

 

He placed his coffee cup down on the saucer, “I don’t think so, Doug,” he offered his old friend his blandest smile, “Face is a pain in the ass, I’ve had to drag him out of more scrapes than you’ve had hot lays,” Dougie raised an eyebrow at him, “Would like to see some return on my investment before I ship him out. I’ll let you know when I’m done with him though.”

 

 

Dougie inclined his head slightly at Hannibal in response and Hannibal wondered if he had been convincing enough but was spared any chance for a rerun of the conversation by said lieutenant slowly walking back to their table with a coffee cup in one hand, a plate piled precariously high with a wide selection of muffins and donuts in the other and a smile warm enough to melt an ice cap on his face. 

 

 

_______________________

 

 

Hannibal knocked on Face’s room at five forty seven pm precisely. They’d arranged to meet for dinner at seven thirty, but Hannibal was bored, fed up of been inside all the time and quite frankly on edge after watching Dougie stare at his lieutenant’s arse all day. He needed to get out and stretch his legs and, on a whim, he stopped by to see if Face wanted to go with him.

 

 

The door opened almost immediately and Hannibal had to work fast to compose himself as Face was wearing only a pair of PT shorts.

 

 

“Oh, hey, boss!” he dropped to his knee to fasten the laces on his trainer, “I was just gonna call you. You coming to watch the volleyball game?”

 

 

Hannibal’s confusion was useful in covering his fluster, “Uh, volleyball?”

 

 

Face stopped and looked up, his expression suddenly worried, “Yeah, volleyball. Dougie said he’d clear it with you...”

 

 

Hannibal forced a smile down at his LT, “Oh, right. It must have slipped his mind.” Sneaky little bastard...

 

 

Face’s expression fell, “Oh, right, well it’s okay then boss; I don’t need to play if you want me for something else. I’ll-”

 

 

“Do you want to play?” Hannibal forced his expression into something as close to neutrality as he could manage.

 

 

“Yeah...” Face offered cautiously.

 

 

“Well, that’s okay then. I only wanted some fresh air, can have that watching you-” he jammed his verbal brakes on, “volleyball as easy as anything else.”

 

 

“Great!” Face’s smile was back. He finished his laces, grabbed a t-shirt from the back of the chair and slapped Hannibal on the back as they headed down the corridor together.  

 

 

_____________________________

 

 

They were one of the last to arrive at the volleyball court; Hannibal hadn’t realised that Dougie had actually arranged a match, rather than just planning a bit of a knock about. He had been busy during the day, both in organising this whole thing and making sure that Hannibal stayed in the dark about Face’s involvement in it all.

 

 

Dougie explained the rules and to Hannibal, listening from the benches set up for spectators around the outside of the court, they seemed a rather eclectic mix of beach and indoor volleyball, played barefoot on a sand court, but bigger than the usual beach court, teams of four instead of two or six, best of three sets, winners the first ones to fifteen. Same rules they used to play fifteen years ago, when Dougie used these matches as an opportunity to flirt a little and check the lay of the land with his latest target.

 

 

Hannibal felt himself tense right up.

 

 

First serve went in and Hannibal tore his thoughts away from Dougie’s insatiable libido to check out the teams. The opposition team consisted of a major that Hannibal had known for years as well, Ken Snowball, obviously Snowy to all who knew him, plus three of the young LTs; a tall, athletic redheaded girl who Hannibal knew only as Crunchie, plus two blond guys who could almost have been twins and were shouted to by Snowy as Camo and Grouch.

 

 

On Dougie’s team, there was himself, plus Face, Tosh and a tall thin LT who Hannibal knew and liked and everyone called Gekko for some unknown reason.

 

 

If Dougie was running to form, and Hannibal had no reason to doubt that he was, then he was planning to get into the bed of at least one of these people on the court with him. Hannibal really hoped it was Crunchie, she had just the type of athletic body that he had sought out in the past, but the way that she was obviously checking Face out in between shots, he didn’t seem to have much of a chance there. No, Hannibal admitted to himself with a feeling of foreboding, it was Face that Dougie’s eyes kept returning to, scowling a bit as the LT flirted right back with Crunchie.

 

 

It had been a tight start to the game and the points were slow in coming, nine a piece and, even in the evening sun, everyone was sweating. Face and Gekko were covering the net, while Tosh and Dougie took the line. Tosh took the serve and Face could hear the ball whistle over his head before clearing the net and finding Camo who passed cross court to Crunchie. Crunchie leapt high in the air as the ball came her way and smashed it down hard, aiming for the sand at Face’s feet, but Face was too quick for her, diving full length, he tipped the ball up before it hit the ground and flicked it to Gekko who managed to put the ball back over the net and over Snowy’s head where it thudded satisfactorily to the sand to score another point.

 

 

Dougie was on Face in an instant, hauling him back to his feet, rubbing his hair enthusiastically and brushing the sand off the front of his t-shirt and shorts. Hannibal grimaced at the blatant excuse for a grope and realised that his gut feeling had been right, this whole game had been set up to further his pursuit of Face.

 

 

He kid still seemed totally oblivious to the whole thing, he hadn’t even flinched when Dougie had rubbed the sand off the front of his shorts and was now back to making eyes at Crunchie through the net, Dougie’s eyes boring into his back.

 

 

The game pressed on, until Face’s team eventually came out as first set winners, sneaking a win at fifteen-eleven. There was a quick drinks/tactics break in between sets and Hannibal could see Face searching through the assembled spectators, there was quite a crowd gathered now, until his eyes fell on Hannibal. A hot rush ran through the older man as their eyes met and Face gave him one of his killer smiles, miming a particularly lethal looking smash that he’d performed about three points ago, just to check that his CO had seen it. Hannibal laughed and nodded at the kid, holding his fingers in the ‘okay’ sign they used in the unit. Face turned away laughing, reaching down to grab his water bottle from the ground and missing the cold, calculating stare of blatant want that Dougie was sending his way. Hannibal didn’t miss it though, and the tension in his body seemed to treble.

 

 

For the second set, Dougie seemed to have decided to up his game, and that had nothing to do with the volleyball. At each and every opportunity his hands were somewhere on Face, his neck, giving an affectionate little squeeze, his shoulders, a quick massage when Face fell awkwardly and jarred his arm, his stomach when leaning in to whisper some hasty ‘tactics’... Hannibal’s gut rolled in anger as he watched, but Face still seemed happily oblivious.

 

 

The same could not be said for Tosh, however. Hannibal noticed with his own mounting sense of dread that Tosh was watching every single little interaction between Dougie and Face, and his expression was getting darker with every second. For Hannibal, this whole damn game just couldn’t end soon enough.    

 

 

It was only four-three, when the end came much sooner than Hannibal could have even hoped for, but in a manner he would never have chosen. Dougie scooted close to Face again, one hand on his back, one on his chest as he whispered in Face’s ear. This time, however, Face frowned back at him and Hannibal wondered just what the hell Dougie had said to him and whether Face was going to finally wise up here and plant one on the lecherous old bastard. No such luck, instead, Face’s eyes drifted to Crunchie and then back to Dougie before grinning and stripping off his t-shirt, throwing it to the side of the court and taking up his position at the net again.

 

 

Hannibal found it hard to concentrate on the game for the next few minutes as his eyes refused to leave Face’s golden, sweating torso, almost gleaming in the last rays of the setting sun. Never had he seen a more beautiful image than that, never.

 

 

It also seemed that Crunchie agreed wholeheartedly with him on that thought, as since Face’s shirt had hit the dirt, so had Crunchie’s game. She fumbled two easy hits and then smashed a shot into the net, when her aim had been deadly accurate for the whole of the preceding hour. Face was wearing his easy, confident, grin and Dougie’s eyes were fixed to the dog tags hanging down his sweat soaked back well out of the way of the game.

 

 

A ball came in high from Grouch on the back line and Face backed up at the same time that Tosh came forward. It was still high in their court, just inviting a smash and Face fancied his chances at getting it. Tosh however thought differently, “Mine!” he yelled, and recognising his better position, Face instantly acquiesced, trying to dodge sideways to get out of Tosh’s way.

 

 

Hannibal could see what was going to happen before it actually did and was already on his feet as Tosh leapt up high, smashed the ball down over the net and came down almost on top of Face, his elbow cracking into the base of Face’s skull, impact clearly audible.

 

 

Face fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes, Tosh collapsing next to him moaning and holding onto his elbow. Instantly, the two fallen players were surrounded and Hannibal had to fight through the crowds to get to his LT’s side, not even sure if Face was conscious or not. He pushed two well meaning spectators out of the way and was met with the sight of a decidedly dazed Face being held against Dougie’s chest, the colonel’s hands all over the kid, Hannibal felt his anger rise.

 

 

He took a step forward, determined to tell Dougie where he could go when Face cracked an eye open and looked blearily around before murmuring, “Hannibal?”

 

 

In that second, his anger was gone, replaced instead by the desire to comfort his boy. “I’m here, kid,” he whispered, dropping down on Face’s other side and just about dragging him out of Dougie’s grip, “You okay here? Took a hell of a thump...”

 

 

“I’m fine,” Face mumbled, sounding anything but, and turned his face into Hannibal’s t-shirt, gripping it tightly in one hand as well.

 

 

Hannibal fought to keep the smug, satisfied grin from his face and turned to meet Dougie’s hostile stare, “You might want to check your LT out there, buddy,” he offered lightly, “Looks like he’s hurt his elbow pretty bad...”

 

 

Dougie narrowed his eyes and gave Face’s arm one last stroke before shifting around to where Tosh was still writhing in the sand, moaning in pain.

 

 

“C’mon, kid,” Hannibal muttered, slipping his arm under Face’s and gently pulling him to his feet. He’d had enough of this game for one night.

 

 

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Part Two here!