Herding Wayward Colonels (Or, How Hannibal Learns to Listen to Face)
Title: Herding Wayward Colonels (Or, How Hannibal Learns to Listen to Face)
Author: Lady Lade
Rating: PG-13
Summary: When Hannibal’s working out a plan he will concentrate so hard, staring down the table and the Plan, that Face is surprised when the pieces don’t jump to and start moving themselves into place. The good thing about this is that it gives B.A. and Murdock some free time. The bad thing is that when Hannibal zones in like that, he’ll literally eat anything. And Face has to babysit him.
Warnings: Crack, fluff. Written with Movie!verse in mind, with some aspects of the show (BILLY IS WAY TOO AWESOME TO LEAVE OUT AND IS TOTALLY CANON TO THE MOVIE YOU CANNOT CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE).
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to any of these characters; I am merely borrowing them for some fun and adventures.
A/N: This wasn't even prompted. I have no idea what these boys are doing to my brain.
Herding Wayward Colonels (Or, How Hannibal Learns to Listen to Face)
For such a small team, they work together better than they should. While a smaller team seems like it’d be easier to be part of, Face knows better. Larger teams mean a larger network, more space (both in bunk space and emotional attachment), and fewer inter-team problems. With larger teams, each member gets room to himself. Now that it’s just him, Hannibal, Murdock, and B.A., well, they practically live in each other’s pockets. Hell, all four of them lived in the same tent when they were in the Army; the cots barely fit, never mind all their gear and other shit. Technically they shouldn’t have been in a single tent because B.A. wasn’t an officer, but really, who was going to tell him otherwise?
So, naturally, boundaries stop existing where they do in the normal world. Face has stopped trying to wash his shirts (t-shirts, not his good dress shirts) separately because he, Hannibal and Murdock all cycle each others’ clothing around like it’s a community collection. He half-heartedly bitches against it, but every time he pulls a shirt on that smells like Murdock or is stretched from Hannibal, he feels like he’s found home again.
This doesn’t mean they don’t want to kill each other on occasion. One of these days B.A. probably will choke Murdock to death for putting on a puppet show or damaging the van, and Face and Hannibal get into arguments about women almost more than Murdock talks to Billy. Sometimes though, the annoying quirks are a bit harder to spot. When Hannibal’s working out a plan he will concentrate so hard, staring down the table and the Plan, that Face is surprised when the pieces don’t jump to and start moving themselves into place. Hannibal can take an obscene amount of time to complete the Plan if he's not working in a time frame, and the good thing about this is that it gives B.A. and Murdock some free time to spend alone (they all love each other, but they're also four grown men that need space sometimes). The bad thing is that when Hannibal zones in like that, he’ll literally eat anything. And Face has to babysit him.
Where most people would feel their stomach begging for food and take a break, Hannibal just grabs the nearest thing that looks vaguely like food (or that looks like it won’t chip his teeth; Face hasn’t really figured out the specifications of this yet). Usually he’s okay with drinks because Face leaves him coffee or water, but once Face walked in the tent just in time to distract Hannibal from chugging down the motor oil behind him. To date, Face has (in a kind of ongoing, occasional experiment) given him plates of tree bark, rotten peaches, cat food, and shredded paper. Hannibal ate all of it, and didn’t even realize what it was. Half the time, he couldn’t remember eating anything at all.
If the man didn’t have a steel stomach, Face is sure that he would have spent half his Army career getting it pumped. And even though they’re now out of the Army, it hasn’t made one bit of difference.
“You should really take a break, Boss. Murdock made chili,” Face says, leaning against the wall and watching Hannibal watch the table, and listening to Hannibal’s stomach make awkward sounds. Babysitting. It’s exciting.
“Mmg,” Hannibal grunts, one of those manly sounds that are supposed to convey the meaning of everything. Here, what Hannibal means is, I’m too engrossed in this and won’t be able to figure out how to bring in Murdock if I stop now. Well, that, or he’s just making sound in hopes that Face will be placated and shut the hell up.
Either way, the noise always makes Face roll his eyes and want to kick Hannibal in the balls.
He waits five minutes, just in case, and when it becomes clear that Hannibal isn’t going to do anything other than stare at the map on the table, Face bolts out to the kitchen to grab a bowl of chili.
Face is pretty sure that if he’s not fast enough, Hannibal will start to eat the splinters from the table. Actually, Face is surprised that he hasn’t done this previously.
Face skids back into the room right as Hannibal’s hand is reaching out, eyes still on the same place on the map, and Face slides the bowl and spoon under his fingers (he’s not sure what Hannibal was reaching for, and he doesn’t really want to know). Hannibal just drags the entire thing to him, lifts the bowl to his mouth, and uses the spoon as a shovel so that he can practically inhale the damn stuff without taking his eyes off the map. Face has to give the man credit: that takes some skill. So, secure in the knowledge that Hannibal’s not going to end up somehow eating rat poison or B.A.'s tools or something, Face leaves to get his own bowl of chili.
Hannibal has emptied his bowl by the time Face gets back, and Face leans against the wall again, eating his chili at a more sedate pace. The Jalapenos that Murdock used are almost too spicy, and Face idly wonders if the Red Savina Habanero peppers Murdock specially prepared for the Hannibal will even register with the man. All is quiet for a few moments, until Hannibal’s stomach groans, this time not for want of food. He frowns, rubbing a hand against his mouth as his throat starts working, and then Hannibal starts panting out his breaths, lips parted widely.
Face grins. Maybe the next time, Hannibal will actually listen when Face tells him to go eat.
Author: Lady Lade
Rating: PG-13
Summary: When Hannibal’s working out a plan he will concentrate so hard, staring down the table and the Plan, that Face is surprised when the pieces don’t jump to and start moving themselves into place. The good thing about this is that it gives B.A. and Murdock some free time. The bad thing is that when Hannibal zones in like that, he’ll literally eat anything. And Face has to babysit him.
Warnings: Crack, fluff. Written with Movie!verse in mind, with some aspects of the show (BILLY IS WAY TOO AWESOME TO LEAVE OUT AND IS TOTALLY CANON TO THE MOVIE YOU CANNOT CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE).
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to any of these characters; I am merely borrowing them for some fun and adventures.
A/N: This wasn't even prompted. I have no idea what these boys are doing to my brain.
Herding Wayward Colonels (Or, How Hannibal Learns to Listen to Face)
For such a small team, they work together better than they should. While a smaller team seems like it’d be easier to be part of, Face knows better. Larger teams mean a larger network, more space (both in bunk space and emotional attachment), and fewer inter-team problems. With larger teams, each member gets room to himself. Now that it’s just him, Hannibal, Murdock, and B.A., well, they practically live in each other’s pockets. Hell, all four of them lived in the same tent when they were in the Army; the cots barely fit, never mind all their gear and other shit. Technically they shouldn’t have been in a single tent because B.A. wasn’t an officer, but really, who was going to tell him otherwise?
So, naturally, boundaries stop existing where they do in the normal world. Face has stopped trying to wash his shirts (t-shirts, not his good dress shirts) separately because he, Hannibal and Murdock all cycle each others’ clothing around like it’s a community collection. He half-heartedly bitches against it, but every time he pulls a shirt on that smells like Murdock or is stretched from Hannibal, he feels like he’s found home again.
This doesn’t mean they don’t want to kill each other on occasion. One of these days B.A. probably will choke Murdock to death for putting on a puppet show or damaging the van, and Face and Hannibal get into arguments about women almost more than Murdock talks to Billy. Sometimes though, the annoying quirks are a bit harder to spot. When Hannibal’s working out a plan he will concentrate so hard, staring down the table and the Plan, that Face is surprised when the pieces don’t jump to and start moving themselves into place. Hannibal can take an obscene amount of time to complete the Plan if he's not working in a time frame, and the good thing about this is that it gives B.A. and Murdock some free time to spend alone (they all love each other, but they're also four grown men that need space sometimes). The bad thing is that when Hannibal zones in like that, he’ll literally eat anything. And Face has to babysit him.
Where most people would feel their stomach begging for food and take a break, Hannibal just grabs the nearest thing that looks vaguely like food (or that looks like it won’t chip his teeth; Face hasn’t really figured out the specifications of this yet). Usually he’s okay with drinks because Face leaves him coffee or water, but once Face walked in the tent just in time to distract Hannibal from chugging down the motor oil behind him. To date, Face has (in a kind of ongoing, occasional experiment) given him plates of tree bark, rotten peaches, cat food, and shredded paper. Hannibal ate all of it, and didn’t even realize what it was. Half the time, he couldn’t remember eating anything at all.
If the man didn’t have a steel stomach, Face is sure that he would have spent half his Army career getting it pumped. And even though they’re now out of the Army, it hasn’t made one bit of difference.
“You should really take a break, Boss. Murdock made chili,” Face says, leaning against the wall and watching Hannibal watch the table, and listening to Hannibal’s stomach make awkward sounds. Babysitting. It’s exciting.
“Mmg,” Hannibal grunts, one of those manly sounds that are supposed to convey the meaning of everything. Here, what Hannibal means is, I’m too engrossed in this and won’t be able to figure out how to bring in Murdock if I stop now. Well, that, or he’s just making sound in hopes that Face will be placated and shut the hell up.
Either way, the noise always makes Face roll his eyes and want to kick Hannibal in the balls.
He waits five minutes, just in case, and when it becomes clear that Hannibal isn’t going to do anything other than stare at the map on the table, Face bolts out to the kitchen to grab a bowl of chili.
Face is pretty sure that if he’s not fast enough, Hannibal will start to eat the splinters from the table. Actually, Face is surprised that he hasn’t done this previously.
Face skids back into the room right as Hannibal’s hand is reaching out, eyes still on the same place on the map, and Face slides the bowl and spoon under his fingers (he’s not sure what Hannibal was reaching for, and he doesn’t really want to know). Hannibal just drags the entire thing to him, lifts the bowl to his mouth, and uses the spoon as a shovel so that he can practically inhale the damn stuff without taking his eyes off the map. Face has to give the man credit: that takes some skill. So, secure in the knowledge that Hannibal’s not going to end up somehow eating rat poison or B.A.'s tools or something, Face leaves to get his own bowl of chili.
Hannibal has emptied his bowl by the time Face gets back, and Face leans against the wall again, eating his chili at a more sedate pace. The Jalapenos that Murdock used are almost too spicy, and Face idly wonders if the Red Savina Habanero peppers Murdock specially prepared for the Hannibal will even register with the man. All is quiet for a few moments, until Hannibal’s stomach groans, this time not for want of food. He frowns, rubbing a hand against his mouth as his throat starts working, and then Hannibal starts panting out his breaths, lips parted widely.
Face grins. Maybe the next time, Hannibal will actually listen when Face tells him to go eat.