Fic: We Need A Little Pretty, Face/Murdock, PG-13.
title: We Need A Little Pretty
pairing: Face/Murdock, not-really-there-at-all-barely-even-one-sided Face/Sosa
fandom: The A-Team '10
rating: PG-13
warnings: Language, badass-ness.
word count: ~1380
summary: “On the pull tonight Sosa baby?” Face asked lightly. “Don’t see many of your type here tonight. Looks like it’s just me, hey?”
a/n1: Tempest Peck, aka Face, is the sassiest Lieutenant in the US Army. She's a ranger through and through and she will fuck you up.
a/n2: For Bebe and Chelsea and Jai for being my cheerleaders and giving me the confidence to write in this fandom. <3
The doors of the club swung open, and hit the walls with a loud, dramatic thump audible even over the loud music. Charisa Sosa, sitting at the bar, glanced up from her vodka orange, and rolled her eyes.
Face dropped into the seat next her, and shot the barman a killer smile.
“Jack on the rocks,” she said, before turning to Sosa, her smile growing into that mile-wide grin. “Hey girlfriend,” Face drawled, leaning back against the bar. Sosa rolled her eyes again.
“Don’t talk to me Face,” she said shortly. “Not tonight, I’m not in the mood.”
Face smirked and chugged back the drink placed in front of her. She tapped her nails on the glass and looked around. Sosa scowled at the already-empty glass and downed her own.
“On the pull tonight Sosa baby?” Face asked lightly. “Don’t see many of your type here tonight. Looks like it’s just me, hey?”
“Oh pull the other one Face, you know that’s bullshit.”
Face laughed, loud and sweet, head tipped back, her long, tanned neck beaded with slight sweat. Sosa dragged her eyes away, and glared at her empty glass.
“C’mon baby, we both know you want me.” Face leaned forward, practically thrusting her cleavage into Sosa’s face, and quirked an eyebrow. That damn smirk was still playing on her lips. Sosa wanted to smack it off. Or kiss it off. She shook her head - not the latter - and looked away. “I mean, I’m hot, you’re hot, we’d be really hot together, we’re kind of… obligated to let it happen at least once, right?”
“Face,” Sosa said through gritted teeth as the blonde woman sat back, smirked wider, crooked her finger at the barman for another drink. “Let it go. As a straight woman, I am obligated to tell you to get the hell away from me, find someone else to go home with, and accept I will not be sleeping with you anytime soon.”
Face watched her thoughtfully for a second, before winking one blue eye and pushing her hair back from her face. “Yeah,” she said eventually, “but not because you don’t want to.”
“Temp?”
Face looked around at the familiar voice, and grinned at Murdock as he leaned against the bar. “Hey Murdock. How’re you buddy?”
“Fine, Face, I’m fine. Hannibal told me to go find you, but I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with you now. Do you want to dance?”
Face stretched out her bare, golden legs, and stood up, taking Murdock’s proffered hand. “Why captain, I thought you’d never ask.”
Sosa looked back at her empty glass as Face led Murdock towards the smoky, packed dance-floor, and nodded to the barman for another one, before realising the barman was staring after Face, as were all of her friends. She sighed, and watched out of the corner of her eye as Face and Murdock slipped right into the centre of the crowd, and Face spun around, pressing her back against Murdock’s chest, and began, simply, to grind. Then Sosa squeezed her eyes shut, and waited in silence until her third vodka orange of the night was placed in front of her.
Face knew all the guys around her were watching her, and knew all the girls were too - for various different reasons, probably. Half of them wanted to fuck her, half of them wanted to kill her for making their boyfriends/lovers/whatever-the-hell-they-were want to fuck her. Face couldn’t blame any of them, but she had her standards. Murdock was her man, Sosa was her girl, and if some charming stranger who could woo her well enough came along like they did occasionally, well, they were her charming stranger for a night.
“Hannibal told you not to wear that dress anymore, Facey,” Murdock murmured into her ear, and Face smirked.
“Since when has the boss ever managed to control what I wear? Besides, Murdock, I’d like to hear you complain.”
“I don’t think I physically can,” Murdock replied honestly, and Face laughed, rubbing against him a little bit harder.
-
“At least let me buy you a drink,” the man was insisting. Face rolled her eyes and shook her head.
“That’s the best you can do?” she asked coolly. This stranger - what was his name? Richard? Ryan? Ryan - was certainly not a charming one. He was a scrawny thing in a worn t-shirt with a nice enough face that was let down by his attitude. “You’re not really my type.”
Scrawny Ryan laughed slightly, and glanced back at his friends with a smirk, before leaning close. He gestured to her low-cut dress. “I didn’t think sluts like you had a type.”
Face breathed a low laugh and nodded slightly, tipping back the rest of her drink. She stood up slowly, fixed the hem of her dress, and looked Scrawny Ryan straight in the eyes.
It was so fast that he tasted the blood before he felt the punch, and barely had time to register that a couple of teeth had come loose before he was doubled over in pain, Face’s bare knee grinding into his crotch.
From across the club, Hannibal sighed, finishing his scotch.
“Come on,” he murmured, and Bosco and Murdock followed him to the bar.
“…Ranger, motherfucker,” Face was saying, voice still light and airy but eyes flashing dangerously, knee still in place. Scrawny Ryan was gasping, eyes squeezed shut, trying to stop the tears that tried to spill out of the corners. “If I see you again, I’ll tear your balls off with my bare hands, okay? You see these nails?” She fastened one hand around Scrawny Ryan’s shirt and dragged him up to look at her. She was smiling now, and Scrawny Ryan didn’t think he’d ever seen a person, never mind a chick, look so elegantly cannibalistic before. “You’re fucking right that would hurt.” She shoved him away and sat back down, crossing one leg over the other and beckoning for another drink, not taking her eyes off of him. Scrawny Ryan looked like he wanted to say something, but when the rest of the team arrived he paled.
“Everything okay Face?” Hannibal asked, eying Scrawny Ryan with distaste.
“Just peachy, boss,” Face replied lightly as he hobbled off, one hand on his crotch and the other over his bleeding mouth. She picked up her drink and rolled the glass in her hand, jaw set and eyes still dark. “Peachy fucking creamy.” She drained the whiskey and turned back to Murdock. “Another dance?”
“I think it’s time to call it a night Face,” Hannibal said firmly. Face pouted, before shrugging.
“Gimme two minutes,” she said, and disappeared back along the bar. Bosco rolled his eyes.
-
Sosa laughed at something the corporal said, and he smiled at her.
“Buy you another?” he offered, gesturing to the near-empty glass in her hand. She smiled, and nodded, before a hand suddenly appeared on her waist and a waft of perfume surrounded her.
“Charisa,” came that smooth voice again, straight down her ear. She cleared her throat slightly and manoeuvred herself away. Face smirked, and slid forward, keeping as close as possible to the brunette. “Oh, who’s your friend?”
Sosa wanted to hit her head against the bar.
“Corporal Keenan,” he replied, offering his hand. Face took it with her killer smile.
“Lieutenant Peck,” she replied. “But most people call me Face.”
“I can see why,” Keenan laughed and Face smirked. She didn’t care how old it was by now, she never got tired of hearing that. She glanced at Sosa through the corner of her eyes. The captain looked furious.
“Charisa baby, I’m leaving now,” Face said lowly, returning her attention to the other female. “This is your last chance to take me home.”
“Stuff it Face,” Sosa growled, and Face sighed slightly.
“One day you’ll say yes to me, right beautiful?” She left before Sosa could answer, perfume lingering and corporal Keenan staring after her.
Sosa let her head hit the bar.
pairing: Face/Murdock, not-really-there-at-all-barely-even-one-sided Face/Sosa
fandom: The A-Team '10
rating: PG-13
warnings: Language, badass-ness.
word count: ~1380
summary: “On the pull tonight Sosa baby?” Face asked lightly. “Don’t see many of your type here tonight. Looks like it’s just me, hey?”
a/n1: Tempest Peck, aka Face, is the sassiest Lieutenant in the US Army. She's a ranger through and through and she will fuck you up.
a/n2: For Bebe and Chelsea and Jai for being my cheerleaders and giving me the confidence to write in this fandom. <3
The doors of the club swung open, and hit the walls with a loud, dramatic thump audible even over the loud music. Charisa Sosa, sitting at the bar, glanced up from her vodka orange, and rolled her eyes.
Face dropped into the seat next her, and shot the barman a killer smile.
“Jack on the rocks,” she said, before turning to Sosa, her smile growing into that mile-wide grin. “Hey girlfriend,” Face drawled, leaning back against the bar. Sosa rolled her eyes again.
“Don’t talk to me Face,” she said shortly. “Not tonight, I’m not in the mood.”
Face smirked and chugged back the drink placed in front of her. She tapped her nails on the glass and looked around. Sosa scowled at the already-empty glass and downed her own.
“On the pull tonight Sosa baby?” Face asked lightly. “Don’t see many of your type here tonight. Looks like it’s just me, hey?”
“Oh pull the other one Face, you know that’s bullshit.”
Face laughed, loud and sweet, head tipped back, her long, tanned neck beaded with slight sweat. Sosa dragged her eyes away, and glared at her empty glass.
“C’mon baby, we both know you want me.” Face leaned forward, practically thrusting her cleavage into Sosa’s face, and quirked an eyebrow. That damn smirk was still playing on her lips. Sosa wanted to smack it off. Or kiss it off. She shook her head - not the latter - and looked away. “I mean, I’m hot, you’re hot, we’d be really hot together, we’re kind of… obligated to let it happen at least once, right?”
“Face,” Sosa said through gritted teeth as the blonde woman sat back, smirked wider, crooked her finger at the barman for another drink. “Let it go. As a straight woman, I am obligated to tell you to get the hell away from me, find someone else to go home with, and accept I will not be sleeping with you anytime soon.”
Face watched her thoughtfully for a second, before winking one blue eye and pushing her hair back from her face. “Yeah,” she said eventually, “but not because you don’t want to.”
“Temp?”
Face looked around at the familiar voice, and grinned at Murdock as he leaned against the bar. “Hey Murdock. How’re you buddy?”
“Fine, Face, I’m fine. Hannibal told me to go find you, but I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with you now. Do you want to dance?”
Face stretched out her bare, golden legs, and stood up, taking Murdock’s proffered hand. “Why captain, I thought you’d never ask.”
Sosa looked back at her empty glass as Face led Murdock towards the smoky, packed dance-floor, and nodded to the barman for another one, before realising the barman was staring after Face, as were all of her friends. She sighed, and watched out of the corner of her eye as Face and Murdock slipped right into the centre of the crowd, and Face spun around, pressing her back against Murdock’s chest, and began, simply, to grind. Then Sosa squeezed her eyes shut, and waited in silence until her third vodka orange of the night was placed in front of her.
Face knew all the guys around her were watching her, and knew all the girls were too - for various different reasons, probably. Half of them wanted to fuck her, half of them wanted to kill her for making their boyfriends/lovers/whatever-the-hell-they-were want to fuck her. Face couldn’t blame any of them, but she had her standards. Murdock was her man, Sosa was her girl, and if some charming stranger who could woo her well enough came along like they did occasionally, well, they were her charming stranger for a night.
“Hannibal told you not to wear that dress anymore, Facey,” Murdock murmured into her ear, and Face smirked.
“Since when has the boss ever managed to control what I wear? Besides, Murdock, I’d like to hear you complain.”
“I don’t think I physically can,” Murdock replied honestly, and Face laughed, rubbing against him a little bit harder.
-
“At least let me buy you a drink,” the man was insisting. Face rolled her eyes and shook her head.
“That’s the best you can do?” she asked coolly. This stranger - what was his name? Richard? Ryan? Ryan - was certainly not a charming one. He was a scrawny thing in a worn t-shirt with a nice enough face that was let down by his attitude. “You’re not really my type.”
Scrawny Ryan laughed slightly, and glanced back at his friends with a smirk, before leaning close. He gestured to her low-cut dress. “I didn’t think sluts like you had a type.”
Face breathed a low laugh and nodded slightly, tipping back the rest of her drink. She stood up slowly, fixed the hem of her dress, and looked Scrawny Ryan straight in the eyes.
It was so fast that he tasted the blood before he felt the punch, and barely had time to register that a couple of teeth had come loose before he was doubled over in pain, Face’s bare knee grinding into his crotch.
From across the club, Hannibal sighed, finishing his scotch.
“Come on,” he murmured, and Bosco and Murdock followed him to the bar.
“…Ranger, motherfucker,” Face was saying, voice still light and airy but eyes flashing dangerously, knee still in place. Scrawny Ryan was gasping, eyes squeezed shut, trying to stop the tears that tried to spill out of the corners. “If I see you again, I’ll tear your balls off with my bare hands, okay? You see these nails?” She fastened one hand around Scrawny Ryan’s shirt and dragged him up to look at her. She was smiling now, and Scrawny Ryan didn’t think he’d ever seen a person, never mind a chick, look so elegantly cannibalistic before. “You’re fucking right that would hurt.” She shoved him away and sat back down, crossing one leg over the other and beckoning for another drink, not taking her eyes off of him. Scrawny Ryan looked like he wanted to say something, but when the rest of the team arrived he paled.
“Everything okay Face?” Hannibal asked, eying Scrawny Ryan with distaste.
“Just peachy, boss,” Face replied lightly as he hobbled off, one hand on his crotch and the other over his bleeding mouth. She picked up her drink and rolled the glass in her hand, jaw set and eyes still dark. “Peachy fucking creamy.” She drained the whiskey and turned back to Murdock. “Another dance?”
“I think it’s time to call it a night Face,” Hannibal said firmly. Face pouted, before shrugging.
“Gimme two minutes,” she said, and disappeared back along the bar. Bosco rolled his eyes.
-
Sosa laughed at something the corporal said, and he smiled at her.
“Buy you another?” he offered, gesturing to the near-empty glass in her hand. She smiled, and nodded, before a hand suddenly appeared on her waist and a waft of perfume surrounded her.
“Charisa,” came that smooth voice again, straight down her ear. She cleared her throat slightly and manoeuvred herself away. Face smirked, and slid forward, keeping as close as possible to the brunette. “Oh, who’s your friend?”
Sosa wanted to hit her head against the bar.
“Corporal Keenan,” he replied, offering his hand. Face took it with her killer smile.
“Lieutenant Peck,” she replied. “But most people call me Face.”
“I can see why,” Keenan laughed and Face smirked. She didn’t care how old it was by now, she never got tired of hearing that. She glanced at Sosa through the corner of her eyes. The captain looked furious.
“Charisa baby, I’m leaving now,” Face said lowly, returning her attention to the other female. “This is your last chance to take me home.”
“Stuff it Face,” Sosa growled, and Face sighed slightly.
“One day you’ll say yes to me, right beautiful?” She left before Sosa could answer, perfume lingering and corporal Keenan staring after her.
Sosa let her head hit the bar.