![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kathierif_ficTitle: The best-laid plans
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kathierif_fic
Fandom: The A-Team (movie)
Pairing: Face/Hannibal
Rating: FRT-13
Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit.
Warnings: um…police brutality?
Word Count: 1428
Summary: In order to free Face from the police, Hannibal pretends to be a cop and interrogates Face.
Author’s Notes: Written for![[community profile]](https://s.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
kink_bingo, prompt: authority figures.
He’d recognized Hannibal almost immediately, despite the wig, the fake mustache, the cheap suit, and despite the fact that one of his eyes was swollen almost completely shut and he had to squint to even focus on the older man.
But it still was Hannibal, and Face knew Hannibal. The other man being here, at the police station, in the same interrogation room as he, but on the other side of the table, dressed as a cop, could mean only one thing: Hannibal had a plan; a risky, crazy plan most likely, and if Face wanted to escape and avoid spending the rest of his life in prison, a prospect that never became any more appealing, no matter how often he heard it, he better had to play along with whatever scheme Hannibal had come up with.
It wasn’t much of a problem, he decided as he leaned back in his uncomfortable chair and gave Hannibal the same cocky grin he’d also given all the other cops he’d dealt with, the same cocky grin that had already served him well when he’d been a kid in the orphanage.
It was a grin that said he had no care in the world, a grin that said that it didn’t matter how swollen his eye was, that he hadn’t had any food in the entire time he’d been held captive, and that he definitely wasn’t bothered by the too-tight cuffs around his tender wrists.
As usual, Hannibal wasn’t the slightest bit impressed by Face’s grin. He just slowly dragged the second chair back, scraping it over the rough floor, before he sat down calmly and opened the thick file he’d brought into the interrogation room with him.
“Templeton Peck,” he said, and Face felt his spine stiffen at the sound of his whole name falling from Hannibal’s lips.
“Also known as Jacob Wash,” Hannibal continued, giving his current alias. “Also known as Peter Jack Kronberg.”
Face couldn’t quite suppress the wince. The cops hadn’t known yet about that particular identity, but he still trusted Hannibal to know what he was doing. It was Hannibal – there was a reason why he was the Colonel and their leader, and if he decided to give one of Face’s many alibis to the police, Face could only nod and roll with the punches.
“Tell me, Templeton,” Hannibal said and leaned forward, his elbows on the tabletop, ”what were you doing in that warehouse? Looking for weapons?”
It was exactly what he’d been intended to do, Face thought while biting back another wince and struggling to keep his face passive, and of course Hannibal knew it – he had been the one who had sent Face into the warehouse, to secure the weapons. He’d gotten the information from their latest client; the only problem was that the information had been wrong and there never had been any weapons – only the cops waiting for him. Their client had given them away to the police, and Hannibal’s plan of retrieving the weapons that were supposedly used in a gang war had failed spectacularly. Face had ended up in police custody, but he had no idea how long exactly he’d been stuck in this room now, confronted with the same questions again and again.
Questions he’d first refused to answer, then had answered with flippant, dismissive words, then had ignored in favor of flirting with the cute detective and then had refused to answer again.
And now, here he was, facing apparently another cop, and Hannibal played his role perfectly, glancing at his watch impatiently, pushing at the edge of the file slightly, and generally appearing bored. Face caught a quick glance at the mug shot they had taken of him, and almost unconsciously, he reached up with both hands to push his hair back in place.
Suddenly, Hannibal was standing, the chair flying backwards from the force of his movements. Before Face could do as much as blink, Hannibal was standing behind him, one hand wrapped in his hair, the other one around his upper arm, clenching down with unforgiving strength.
He hauled Face to his feet and pushed him over the table. Face barely managed to get his cuffed hands under him, to avoid being slammed face-first into the polished surface. Photographs went flying, fluttering to the ground quietly, unnoticed by the people occupying the room.
Hannibal was pressing Face down, one of his legs pushing Face’s apart and settling in between them. Face let out a surprised gasp, both from the unexpectedness of the sudden attack and the way his body reacted to the proximity of the other man’s hard body, and he twisted his face to the side.
It probably, a small part of him realized, wasn’t an appropriate reaction, and if this had been anyone else but Hannibal, Face would definitely not like the consequences to his unwilling reaction. He wasn’t quite sure what Hannibal’s intention was with this move – there had to be easier ways of getting him out of prison – unless his plan was to sexually frustrate and humiliate Face, in which case, he was succeeding.
He shifted as much as he could, to ease the pressure against his achingly hard dick – he’d never been this hard in this short a time, he thought – but before he could succeed, he was yanked backwards, thankfully by the hand on his arm and not by the one in his hair. He almost lost his balance, but Hannibal had a firm grip on him and made sure he didn’t fall.
“You’re going to jail,” Hannibal hissed, close enough to his ear that Face could feel his breath against the sensitive shell, but still loud enough to be perfectly and clearly understood by possible observers, “and I’ll make sure you’ll get there personally.”
Face groaned, his lips parted as he struggled to regain his equilibrium, but before he could do more than blink, Hannibal had hauled him more than halfway through the precinct, and then, he was pushed out of the doors and into a white-and-blue car, Hannibal’s hand on his head making sure he didn’t hit it when getting into the vehicle, and Hannibal slid in next to him.
“Go,” he ordered tensely, and Face managed to catch BA’s eyes in the rearview mirror before th car peeled off the curb with squealing tires.
“You okay?” Hannibal asked, his voice low and intense and still filled with that commanding tone, and he took Face’s hands in his, to pick the lock of the cuffs. The brush of his rough fingertips against Face’s still tender wrists sent another shiver of arousal through his entire body and made him bite his lip to suppress the groan that was trying to escape him.
“I’m fine,” he finally murmured. “Hannibal, next time…”
He trailed off, shook his head dejectedly and shifted. His dick chafed against the inside of his pants, and he took a deep breath and willed his erection to go away.
BA drove in silence, until they reached their destination, a secret location where Murdock was already pacing nervously and waiting for them.
“Face,” Hannibal said, his voice smooth steel. “Office. Now.”
Face nodded dejectedly and followed him to the small room, but not without giving Murdock a soothing smile and a pat on the back.
Hannibal was waiting for him, his arms crossed over his chest and his legs spread slightly. He’d taken off the wig, but Face felt his mouth go dry at the sight nonetheless, and when Hannibal reached for him with strong but careful hands and draped him over the desk in a gentler copy of his earlier position, Face went willingly, eager to please Hannibal and thank him properly for the rescue.
Hannibal chuckled and kissed the back of his neck gently while Face was still lying on the desk, spent and exhausted, the past hours finally catching up with him. He would need a few hours of sleep and a proper meal and he would be ready to face the world again, Hannibal was sure of that, and then, they would figure out how Face had been caught and hopefully avoid it happening again.
And then…Hannibal smiled. He hadn’t planned that far ahead yet, but maybe it was time to use his acting skills for something different than monster movies and jobs.
The beginnings of a new plan started to form in his mind, and his grin widened while he reached for a cigar.
Face wouldn’t know what hit him, he thought, and: I love it when a plan comes together.
~end.
Author:
kathierif_ficFandom: The A-Team (movie)
Pairing: Face/Hannibal
Rating: FRT-13
Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit.
Warnings: um…police brutality?
Word Count: 1428
Summary: In order to free Face from the police, Hannibal pretends to be a cop and interrogates Face.
Author’s Notes: Written for
kink_bingo, prompt: authority figures.He’d recognized Hannibal almost immediately, despite the wig, the fake mustache, the cheap suit, and despite the fact that one of his eyes was swollen almost completely shut and he had to squint to even focus on the older man.
But it still was Hannibal, and Face knew Hannibal. The other man being here, at the police station, in the same interrogation room as he, but on the other side of the table, dressed as a cop, could mean only one thing: Hannibal had a plan; a risky, crazy plan most likely, and if Face wanted to escape and avoid spending the rest of his life in prison, a prospect that never became any more appealing, no matter how often he heard it, he better had to play along with whatever scheme Hannibal had come up with.
It wasn’t much of a problem, he decided as he leaned back in his uncomfortable chair and gave Hannibal the same cocky grin he’d also given all the other cops he’d dealt with, the same cocky grin that had already served him well when he’d been a kid in the orphanage.
It was a grin that said he had no care in the world, a grin that said that it didn’t matter how swollen his eye was, that he hadn’t had any food in the entire time he’d been held captive, and that he definitely wasn’t bothered by the too-tight cuffs around his tender wrists.
As usual, Hannibal wasn’t the slightest bit impressed by Face’s grin. He just slowly dragged the second chair back, scraping it over the rough floor, before he sat down calmly and opened the thick file he’d brought into the interrogation room with him.
“Templeton Peck,” he said, and Face felt his spine stiffen at the sound of his whole name falling from Hannibal’s lips.
“Also known as Jacob Wash,” Hannibal continued, giving his current alias. “Also known as Peter Jack Kronberg.”
Face couldn’t quite suppress the wince. The cops hadn’t known yet about that particular identity, but he still trusted Hannibal to know what he was doing. It was Hannibal – there was a reason why he was the Colonel and their leader, and if he decided to give one of Face’s many alibis to the police, Face could only nod and roll with the punches.
“Tell me, Templeton,” Hannibal said and leaned forward, his elbows on the tabletop, ”what were you doing in that warehouse? Looking for weapons?”
It was exactly what he’d been intended to do, Face thought while biting back another wince and struggling to keep his face passive, and of course Hannibal knew it – he had been the one who had sent Face into the warehouse, to secure the weapons. He’d gotten the information from their latest client; the only problem was that the information had been wrong and there never had been any weapons – only the cops waiting for him. Their client had given them away to the police, and Hannibal’s plan of retrieving the weapons that were supposedly used in a gang war had failed spectacularly. Face had ended up in police custody, but he had no idea how long exactly he’d been stuck in this room now, confronted with the same questions again and again.
Questions he’d first refused to answer, then had answered with flippant, dismissive words, then had ignored in favor of flirting with the cute detective and then had refused to answer again.
And now, here he was, facing apparently another cop, and Hannibal played his role perfectly, glancing at his watch impatiently, pushing at the edge of the file slightly, and generally appearing bored. Face caught a quick glance at the mug shot they had taken of him, and almost unconsciously, he reached up with both hands to push his hair back in place.
Suddenly, Hannibal was standing, the chair flying backwards from the force of his movements. Before Face could do as much as blink, Hannibal was standing behind him, one hand wrapped in his hair, the other one around his upper arm, clenching down with unforgiving strength.
He hauled Face to his feet and pushed him over the table. Face barely managed to get his cuffed hands under him, to avoid being slammed face-first into the polished surface. Photographs went flying, fluttering to the ground quietly, unnoticed by the people occupying the room.
Hannibal was pressing Face down, one of his legs pushing Face’s apart and settling in between them. Face let out a surprised gasp, both from the unexpectedness of the sudden attack and the way his body reacted to the proximity of the other man’s hard body, and he twisted his face to the side.
It probably, a small part of him realized, wasn’t an appropriate reaction, and if this had been anyone else but Hannibal, Face would definitely not like the consequences to his unwilling reaction. He wasn’t quite sure what Hannibal’s intention was with this move – there had to be easier ways of getting him out of prison – unless his plan was to sexually frustrate and humiliate Face, in which case, he was succeeding.
He shifted as much as he could, to ease the pressure against his achingly hard dick – he’d never been this hard in this short a time, he thought – but before he could succeed, he was yanked backwards, thankfully by the hand on his arm and not by the one in his hair. He almost lost his balance, but Hannibal had a firm grip on him and made sure he didn’t fall.
“You’re going to jail,” Hannibal hissed, close enough to his ear that Face could feel his breath against the sensitive shell, but still loud enough to be perfectly and clearly understood by possible observers, “and I’ll make sure you’ll get there personally.”
Face groaned, his lips parted as he struggled to regain his equilibrium, but before he could do more than blink, Hannibal had hauled him more than halfway through the precinct, and then, he was pushed out of the doors and into a white-and-blue car, Hannibal’s hand on his head making sure he didn’t hit it when getting into the vehicle, and Hannibal slid in next to him.
“Go,” he ordered tensely, and Face managed to catch BA’s eyes in the rearview mirror before th car peeled off the curb with squealing tires.
“You okay?” Hannibal asked, his voice low and intense and still filled with that commanding tone, and he took Face’s hands in his, to pick the lock of the cuffs. The brush of his rough fingertips against Face’s still tender wrists sent another shiver of arousal through his entire body and made him bite his lip to suppress the groan that was trying to escape him.
“I’m fine,” he finally murmured. “Hannibal, next time…”
He trailed off, shook his head dejectedly and shifted. His dick chafed against the inside of his pants, and he took a deep breath and willed his erection to go away.
BA drove in silence, until they reached their destination, a secret location where Murdock was already pacing nervously and waiting for them.
“Face,” Hannibal said, his voice smooth steel. “Office. Now.”
Face nodded dejectedly and followed him to the small room, but not without giving Murdock a soothing smile and a pat on the back.
Hannibal was waiting for him, his arms crossed over his chest and his legs spread slightly. He’d taken off the wig, but Face felt his mouth go dry at the sight nonetheless, and when Hannibal reached for him with strong but careful hands and draped him over the desk in a gentler copy of his earlier position, Face went willingly, eager to please Hannibal and thank him properly for the rescue.
Hannibal chuckled and kissed the back of his neck gently while Face was still lying on the desk, spent and exhausted, the past hours finally catching up with him. He would need a few hours of sleep and a proper meal and he would be ready to face the world again, Hannibal was sure of that, and then, they would figure out how Face had been caught and hopefully avoid it happening again.
And then…Hannibal smiled. He hadn’t planned that far ahead yet, but maybe it was time to use his acting skills for something different than monster movies and jobs.
The beginnings of a new plan started to form in his mind, and his grin widened while he reached for a cigar.
Face wouldn’t know what hit him, he thought, and: I love it when a plan comes together.
~end.