A Family Holiday (H/F)
A sequel to 'Meet The Family', written for ocean_blue15 and panda77777. Hannibal takes Face back to his family and the ranch for Thanksgiving.
The further he drove from base, the more relaxed Hannibal felt himself becoming. The team had only got back from their last mission the day before, and had rushed through their usual reports and post-mission briefings in a desperate attempt to still get away on time for the holiday. The last couple of years had seen the team on deployment over Thanksgiving, but this year they all had plans, and Hannibal in particular had been looking forward to taking Face back to his family’s ranch again.
BA had, much to everyone’s surprise, invited Murdock back to Chicago to spend the holiday with his family. The pilot had needed no persuasion at all - Mama Baracus’ cooking was legendary, and the thought of seeing the team’s big guy with all his cousins and extended family was far too good to resist. Hannibal and Face had both made Murdock promise to bring back lots of gossip, and despite BA’s grumbling they all knew he was looking forward to having his crazy friend to stay. They had all left base at the crack of dawn and started their long drives in two different directions.
Now, after several hours of long, straight roads, the ranch was only another few minutes away. Glancing away from the road for a second, Hannibal smiled as he looked at his other half, asleep in the passenger seat. Face had taken the worst of it on this recent mission, a dislocated shoulder thankfully now back in place and strapped up in a secure sling. For once, the doctors seemed to have found a painkiller that didn’t make the kid throw up, but it did seem to knock him out, and Face was currently drooling all over the seatbelt, and over his own shirt.
“Sweetheart?” he called softly, trying not to startle his lover. “Temp, we’re nearly there. Time to wake up now.”
No response at all for a few moments, then a long low groan as Face started to climb out of his drugged sleep. “Hmmwhazzit…?”
“Really eloquent there, baby,” Hannibal chuckled, as Face groggily lifted his head, a string of drool still hanging from his chin. “Might want to wipe your mouth. You back with me?”
Face levered himself a little more upright, grimacing as he realised the mess he had made. “Yuck. You could have woken me sooner, Hannibal. Now I have to meet your parents covered in saliva.” He sounded more alert already, though there was still a slight slur to his words.
“Quit your moaning. You needed the sleep.” His humour faded as he watched his lover trying to straighten himself out with only one hand. “Don’t worry, kid. They’ll be too busy fussing over you to notice a few damp patches.”
“Sounds like an interesting challenge…”
Hannibal knew that tone well. And it had been a long mission with no alone time, with last night spent busy with paperwork and, in Face’s case, medics. Still, not yet. “Down boy. You’ll have to wait a little longer, Temp, we’ll barely make it in time for dinner as it is. And we are going to have to be very, very careful of - ”
“Yes, I know, the stupid shoulder.” A definite note of frustration there, and Hannibal frowned as he started to turn into the long driveway. “It’s been a long time, boss.”
“We’ll have plenty of time this weekend, sweetheart, I promise. Just nothing too… energetic for you, okay?”
A heavy sigh from his passenger, and Hannibal managed to swallow his smile. Face really was the worst patient ever, although he could relate, not being much better himself. He guided the car to a stop outside the ranch, spotting George outside the garage working on one of his father’s cars, and the old man immediately started walking over to meet them as Hannibal climbed out of the car, hurrying around to the passenger side. “I can do it, Hannibal, I’m not made of glass,” came the predictable protest as Face was helped out of the car, immediately negated by a pained hiss as he adjusted his sling.
George had reached them by that point, and stood hovering. “Happy Thanksgiving, sirs. Can I help at all? Take your bags?”
“Thanks, George,” Hannibal tossed the old man the car keys. “I want to get this one inside.” Face let himself be led towards the main house, grumbling all the time but still throwing a brief ‘hello’ at the handyman. George never ceased to amaze Hannibal - the old guy was easily in his late seventies but never seemed to age, still as capable as he had ever been. Hannibal held a soft spot for the old guy, fondly remembering some of the technical tricks and shortcuts he had learnt from him when he was a teenager. He longed to introduce him to BA, knowing the two would love talking mechanics together. “Don’t work all day, George. It’s Thanksgiving!” he called back, knowing the older man too well.
Ushering Face up the steps and into the house, Hannibal had a flashback to the first time he had brought his lover out to meet his family. It hadn’t been the smoothest visit but they had parted on a good note, with his parent’s concerns about their relationship eased. They had spoken on the telephone more often recently than they had since his days in basic training, his parents always asking after Face, and Hannibal felt their relationship was more honest now than it ever had been. Hopefully this weekend would be far easier for all of them, and now Face knew a little more about what to expect from the Van Smyths, Hannibal was looking forward to showing him how his family did Thanksgiving, as well as enjoying some time where the two of them could just be themselves without having to look over their shoulder the entire time. No pun intended.
* * * *
The ranch was just as big as Face remembered, and the hallway just as impressive. As Hannibal closed the door behind them, the warmth of the house rushed over him and he gave an involuntary shudder, not realising he had been cold until that moment. His lover seemed to notice, wrapping him in a quick, careful hug from behind before moving them further into the house. Delicious smells of cooking filled the hall.
“I wonder where - “ Hannibal started to ask, when Consuela appeared from one of the back corridors, where Face assumed the kitchen was. She held a large, heavy-looking silver serving tray in her hands, a protective dome covering whatever lay beneath. Its sheer size made the tiny woman look even smaller, but she still smiled warmly when she spotted the latecomers.
“You are here, good, good. Happy Thanksgiving!” she enthused. “Family already sitting down, Sir, go through, please.” It was at that point that the housekeeper seemed to notice his sling, and her face visibly grew concerned. “Mr Peck, your arm?”
“It’s not so bad, Consuela, don’t worry,” he assured her, as Hannibal stepped up close to her and spoke rapidly in her ear. Face caught a couple of Spanish words but didn’t hear everything, and soon his lover was back at his side, taking his good arm and leading him towards the dining room. “Hannibal, what - ?”
“Don’t worry, kid. Come on, they haven’t started yet.”
Once they reached the dining room, of course they were both immediately the centre of attention, making a late entrance as only Hannibal Smith could. Rich, Hannibal’s older brother, was the first to greet them, rising from the table to embrace his little brother and awkwardly shaking Face’s left hand. Rich’s wife Jackie was swift to follow, kissing both men on the cheek, their son Ben waving enthusiastically, while Hannibal’s parents remained seated, smiling and clearly pleased to see their son, but Face remembered their slightly formal ways from their last visit, feeling bad they had arrived so close to dinner being served.
The predictable fuss and questioning about his shoulder was curtailed as Consuela followed them into the room with that large serving dish, and everyone quickly took their seats again as she placed it on the table in front of Jonathon Van Smyth senior, Hannibal’s father. The older man was dressed in a smart black suit, and in fact everyone was dressed in their finery, Face taking the chance to compliment Hannibal’s mother on her elegant silver dress, to her obvious delight, before surreptitiously adjusting his sling to cover the damp patch on his shirt. Damn drugs.
The dining table was decorated festively and the food already out looked amazing, dishes of mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, sweet potatoes, green beans, and so many different vegetables that Face couldn’t quite take it all in. The only thing missing, the centrepiece, could only be under the serving dish, and sure enough, removing the cover with a flourish, Mr Van Smyth revealed an impressive turkey, far too large even for the seven gathered.
“Now that everyone has arrived,” Hannibal’s father began, “Our Thanksgiving feast can begin. I’m grateful that you could all be here today, both my sons safe, and all our family.” He smiled lovingly at his wife, and Face felt an immediate warmth spread through him as Hannibal took his hand, squeezing gently, letting him know he was included in that last. “We give thanks for this meal, and especially to Consuela for working so hard to prepare it.” A chorus of murmured ‘Amen’s and Face remembered that Hannibal had explained his family weren’t exactly religious, so very different from his own upbringing.
As Mr Van Smyth ceremonially carved the first slice of turkey, allowing Consuela to lift it away to continue serving, Face had a moment of panic - how was he meant to do this with only one hand? Turning to Hannibal, that panic must have shown on his face as his lover leaned close, whispering into his ear, “Don’t worry, sweetheart, it’s okay.” Unsure what that meant - was Hannibal going to feed him? - he decided to trust his other half, and let himself be swept up in the jolly conversation around the table as everyone began talking at once.
“So, Templeton, are you able to tell us what happened?” asked Eleanor Smyth, as Consuela began placing heaped plates of Turkey in front of them. “My youngest son only told us that you were all freshly back from a mission, but not what had happened, nor that you were injured.”
“Where was the mission?” added Ben, Hannibal’s 12 year old nephew, enthusiastically. Face remembered from their last visit that the boy had soaked up as many army stories as they had been allowed to tell. But in this case… He exchanged a glum look with his lover.
“We can’t say much, I’m afraid,” Hannibal started, as a plate was placed in front of him, and another one appeared in front of Face. “It’s all classified, we only got back yesterday. Face - Temp dislocated his shoulder but there’s no permanent damage.” Ben looked so disappointed that he added a little more detail. “He did it hauling me and someone else to safety after a bridge collapsed.” There was so much concealed in that short statement; the ‘someone else’ had actually been BA, and Face knew how guilty his team and particularly his lover felt about the way he had been injured. But there had been no other way to get them up, no way Face would have let them fall, and he squeezed his lover’s thigh reassuringly beneath the table with his good hand.
Ben looked much more impressed at that statement, but Rich and Jackie tactfully changed the topic of conversation as everyone helped themselves to the feast laid out before them. Face was surprised to see his plate of turkey had been cut into tiny, manageable pieces, and exchanged a knowing look with Hannibal. So that had been what that conversation with Consuela was about, how typical of his Colonel to always be planning three steps ahead. To his relief, with Hannibal serving him from the assortment of dishes, he found he didn’t embarrass himself eating with only one hand.
Conversation was easy and light-hearted, and Face remembered again how much had enjoyed getting to know Rich and Jackie on his last visit. They talked about anything but life in the Rangers, which was a wonderful change, from Rich’s latest court case to Jackie’s new colleagues. When asked, Ben told them all about his exploits at boarding school, Face able to relate to some of the dorm stories he told from his own childhood at the orphanage, and soon everyone was laughing as they all traded ‘naughtiest things I did as a child’. Even Hannibal’s straight-laced parents joined in, his father revealing how he had once swapped a prize racehorse for an old farm horse the night before a big race, much to the clear delight of his two sons, and the shock of his wife.
As the meal went on, and everyone’s plates began to empty, Face made sure he took some time to speak to Eleanor, aware that, of all Hannibal’s family, she was the one he still needed to connect with most. She had been so very certain that her youngest son was only with Face because of his looks, unable to see what else they could have in common, but now Face hoped she could see how attentive Hannibal was being towards him, all the little touches and looks of concern thrown his way, and, out of the whole family, she was the one who asked him repeatedly if he was alright, if he was in any pain.
Just when he felt he couldn’t possibly eat another thing, Mr Van Smyth asked loudly, “Any room for dessert?”
A chorus of groans met that statement, Face’s among them. Having been on MREs for the last couple of weeks, the rich food was already catching up with him, as beautiful as it had all been.
“Perhaps we should save the pies for later, darling?” Eleanor suggested, patting her napkin at her lips. “Why don’t we go around the table?”
Hannibal leant over to whisper in his ear. “We all have to say what we are most thankful for. My mother’s favourite tradition.”
Eleanor started, surprising Face with the emotion in her voice. He hadn’t expected Hannibal’s slightly distant, formal mother to be so open. “I am thankful that I have all my family around me, both my sons safe, and the ones they love all safely in our house.” She raised her wine glass and looked at her husband as she added, “I am thankful that we have each other.” Jonathon Senior leaned over and kissed his wife gently, as Hannibal slipped a hand onto Face’s knee.
The rest of the family took their turns, and Face could really feel the love in the room. Hannibal’s father was thankful for all the good things the family had, while Rich and Jackie were each most thankful for each other and for Ben. The young boy made them all laugh when he announced he was most thankful for his new bike, the honesty of youth, while Hannibal continued to lighten the mood by saying first that he was thankful for Face’s strength and good grip.
When Face swatted his lover gently on the arm, Hannibal sobered up a little. “I’m most thankful that we can all be together. The man I love, and my whole family.” That surprised Face as well, that his usually controlled colonel could be so expressive in front of his parents, given the difficulties they had had. He swallowed carefully over the sudden lump in his throat, decided there and then that he loved this family tradition.
Then it was his turn. Feeling the blush on his cheeks as all eyes turned to him, he resisted the urge to make a joke or to be fake, still determined to show Hannibal’s parents the man he truly was, rather than the conman. “I’m… I’ve never been to a Thanksgiving like this,” he started. “This is amazing, and I’m thankful that you have invited me here to share it with you all. But, I guess the thing I’m most thankful for… It’s you, John, always.”
Figuring he’d done this before, and it was the holidays after all, he leaned over and kissed his lover gently on the lips. The family was silent for a moment before a chorus of ‘aah’s sounded, plus a wolf-whistle from Ben. Slightly self-conscious, Face was grateful when Consuela started clearing the table, and the conversation moved on.
* * * *
“So you’re not a huge fan of horses, I take it?”
“Never been around them.” Face would have looked up but he was too busy concentrating on where he was treading. Horse manure on his new loafers was not going to be easy to clean up. “We didn’t exactly have too many fields in downtown LA.”
Rich laughed. “Forgot you were a city boy.” He waited patiently for Face to catch up as they walked across to join Hannibal and Ben, who were already inside the stables. He patted his belly, stretching slightly. “God, it’s good to get some fresh air. My parents sure know how to put together a Thanksgiving dinner.”
“Yeah, that was an amazing feast. I have no idea how I’m gonna find room for any kind of pudding.”
“Oh, you have to! Consuela’s pumpkin pie is the best you will ever taste.” Rich guided them to a stop in the doorway, and Face smiled to see his lover and young Ben already fussing over the horses. Hannibal looked so at home here, so relaxed, dressed down now in old jeans and an oversized sweater beneath a battered leather jacket, and Face took the time to just watch the colonel laughing and joking with his nephew. “You’ve been good for him, you know?”
“Hmm?” Face glanced up to see Hannibal’s big brother watching him, a small smile hovering on his lips.
“John. You’ve been good for him, I can see. He always used to be so tense when he came home; even speaking to him over the phone he was always… distant.” Rich folded his arms, leaning back against the doorframe. “He seems so much more relaxed with you by his side. It’s great to see.”
Face couldn’t stop his smile. “He’s been good for me too. And good to me.” A sudden nudge at his leg made him look down, and he smiled wider as the farm cat wrapped herself around his legs. “Ah, now this is more my kind of pet.”
“You should feel honoured; she never normally lets anyone near her.”
Kneeling down, careful not to kneel in anything nasty and careful not to jar his shoulder, he happily fussed the little creature. “We always had a cat when I was growing up. The nuns were kind of old fashioned, thought it would keep the mice population down, told us it wasn’t a pet. But of course it was, for us.”
A slightly awkward pause, and Face almost wished he hadn’t said that, hadn’t reminded Rich of his background. “Sorry, man. Must’ve been hard.” For all that the older man sounded genuine, Face was glad when he tactfully changed the subject. “Benjy’s been pestering us to get him a dog. Of course, Jackie keeps pointing out that he’s away at school so much that it wouldn’t be fair. I can see her point, but every kid should have a pet of some kind.”
“Yeah, I get that.” Rich steadied him as he climbed carefully back to his feet. “I guess you and John always had the horses?”
“A couple of dogs too. The parents were pretty keen on us taking charge of their care, ’taking responsibility’ I think they called it.” Rich pinned him with a shrewd gaze, the same blue-grey eyes as Hannibal and their father. “How have they been with you? Since all the trouble last time?”
“Fine, actually.” Face was starting to shiver a little in the cool air. “I know Hannibal speaks to them more often than he used to. And they’ve been really okay with me so far, not that we’ve had much time to talk yet today.”
“Wait ‘til we all get stuck into the games later. Any grudges they still hold will come out then, I guarantee!” Hannibal was headed over towards them now, pulling off his jacket much to Face’s surprise. “Hey little brother, just telling your other half to watch his back when the games start.”
Hannibal laughed out loud at that. “Oh, hell yes. You think I’m competitive, kid? You just wait until you see where I get that streak from!” He gently draped his jacket around Face’s shoulders, careful not to nudge his right side. “You getting cold?” At Face’s reluctant nod, he wrapped a careful arm around his waist and started them back towards the ranch house. “Sorry, Rich. We’ve been in a pretty hot place, and he’s from California.”
“You make me sound completely feeble!” Face protested half-heartedly, having enjoyed spending some time with Hannibal’s brother. Rich’s laughter from behind him, as well as his lover’s soft chuckling, made him feel a little better. “See you inside for games and pie, guys!”
* * * *
The rest of the afternoon and evening passed in a cosy blur of games, television, and pie. Far, far too much pie. Hannibal sat back on the soft sofa, wondering if there was any way he could subtly undo the button on his pants without being noticed, letting the soft crackle of the fire relax his mind. The board games had been as competitive as he expected, and he had been thrilled to see how good his nephew had become, giving Rich and his father quite a challenge at Monopoly.
He had been surprised that Face hadn’t done better at the game, which had raged on for a couple of hours in the end, broken up by some football on the television. The young man was incredibly good at games of all sorts, especially card games, although the team all gave him grief for cheating quite openly. At one point, after a consistent losing streak involving far too much rent paid out, his lover had caught his eye and winked, letting Hannibal know it was probably a deliberate ploy. Thinking about it, it was his father who had been convinced Face was after the Van Smyth family money - perhaps bankrupting the man, even at Monopoly, didn’t seem like such a good idea to his clever partner.
“Move up a bit, Hannibal.” Face slid carefully onto the sofa, carrying a plate and fork in his good hand.
“More pie?” Hannibal couldn’t quite believe his eyes as his lover settled against him, before cautiously balancing his plate on his knee. Sure enough, another slice of pumpkin pie began to vanish as Face tucked in. “Glad to see you are enjoying your food!”
“Mmm,” the other man replied around a mouthful of pie, nodding. “Rich was right, this really is the best pie ever. And it’s only my third slice.” At Hannibal’s incredulous look, he admitted, “Okay, my fourth. But you know we’re back in serious training next week.”
“Not with that shoulder you aren’t!” He reached across to steady the plate, secretly pleased to see Face eating what he wanted. His lover sometimes got too focussed on his workout regime, on keeping his figure, and he leaned across to press a kiss the younger man’s temple. “You treat yourself, baby.”
On the opposite sofa, sipping her glass of sherry, his mother smiled at them. “It’s good to see Consuela’s hard work not going to waste, Templeton. She really is quite the cook.”
“Absolutely, Mrs Van Smyth.” Face finished off his fourth helping, and Hannibal took his plate off him, placing it on the table before wrapping an arm carefully around his waist, pulling him closer. “The whole meal, in fact the whole day, has been really fantastic. Thank you so much for inviting me here; I’ve never had a Thanksgiving like this before.” The honesty in that soft voice really stood out to Hannibal, and he squeezed that narrow waist gently.
“Please, call me Eleanor.” That snapped Hannibal’s head up in shock. Perhaps his mother really was thawing towards Face. “And it’s been our pleasure. Having Jonathon - Having John back home is always special, and I’ve been looking forward to spending some more time with you both.” She stood up carefully from the sofa. “I think I’m going to turn in. Good night, everyone.” As she crossed behind the sofa, Hannibal felt her gently kiss him on the top of the head. He felt almost like a little boy again, curled up at home, his mother’s love surrounding him, and marvelled at the fact that she had finally called him by his chosen name.
A chorus of ‘goodnight’s followed Eleanor from the room, and her departure signalled the beginning of the end of the evening. Jackie took a yawning Ben off to bed, while Hannibal watched his father and brother head outside, most likely to smoke a cigar or two. They gestured for him to join them, but strangely enough he didn’t feel like moving, enjoying the rare moment of quiet with his lover pressed against his side, on a soft couch, in front of a warm fire. Rich carried on out but his father lingered in the doorway for a moment, a strange look on his face, before offering the couple a small smile and a nod.
Left alone in the room, Hannibal couldn’t quite believe that both his parents finally seemed to be giving them their blessings. His lover also seemed to realise the significance of the moment, but as if in agreement neither of them spoke, settling closer against each other and letting the glow from the fire and the soft crackle fill the room. Face soon grew heavy against him, head coming to rest against his shoulder, but the younger man couldn’t hide his soft gasp as he shifted against the cushions.
“Come on, sweetheart,” Hannibal murmured, gently kissing Face’s forehead. “It’s time for good little Lieutenants to take their painkillers and go to bed.”
“Since when have I been a good little Lieutenant?” Okay, so he should have seen that response coming perhaps. But Face still let Hannibal help him to his feet and lead him from the room, hand in hand.
As they climbed the stairs, Hannibal felt his lover press deliberately close against him, the hardness pressing into his hip telling him that, while he might get Face into bed, they wouldn’t be getting any sleep any time soon. And Hannibal, feeling uncomfortable already in his own pants, didn’t mind that thought too badly.
* * * *
He couldn’t hold in the slight hiss of pain as Hannibal gently lowered the ice pack onto his aching shoulder, nor the whine of frustration. This wasn’t how he had seen his Thanksgiving evening ending. Flat on his back maybe, although he had been thinking of other, more creative positions, and a definite yes to his lover hovering over his body, but not with that look of concern on his face.
“Easy,” Hannibal soothed, adjusting the pack slightly. “Give it time to work. The pills will kick in soon.” A brief smile cut through the worry. “I told you to take things slowly.”
“It’s your fault for being so damn hot,” Face groaned, feeling the coldness starting to ease the throb of his torn muscles. Hannibal was probably right, he shouldn’t have tried to get frisky in the shower, should have relaxed into the gentle massage rather than trying to take things up a notch. “Oh gods, that feels good.”
The older man leaned down over him, their naked chests pressing together, and kissed him carefully, too carefully for Face’s liking, but he knew how guilty Hannibal still felt about the way he had been hurt. He felt his arousal kick up once more, but the other man pulled back, one hand still holding the pack in place over his shoulder. “Lie still, baby, please.” Those pale blue-grey eyes stared into his own. “So how was your day?”
“Hmm, fantastic.” Those amazing pills were definitely kicking in now, and Face felt his body relaxing into the soft mattress. “Your family throws an amazing Thanksgiving, John. It’s been really great.” And it really had been, so very different from all those holidays as one child among many. Even the rare holidays he had spent at a foster home hadn’t come close to measuring up to this one day, spent in the warmth of his lover’s family. “The food, the company… Thank you,” he finished softly.
“For what?”
“For everything. For loving me enough to bring me home. Again.” He chuckled. “And for the ice pack.”
“I should be thanking you, for not letting me fall - “
“Don’t go there, sweetheart.” If he could have kissed the pain away from Hannibal’s handsome face he would have. Perhaps his lover read that wish on his own face, as he leant down again, their passionate kiss much more intense than before. Face fought the urge to surge up against him, knowing any move on his part would probably end this before they had really begun. And his shoulder really was feeling much, much better now…
Hannibal pulled back again, eyes now dark with lust, and fumbled briefly with the bag of ice. Consuela had apologised profusely for not having any proper ice packs to hand, clearly not having expected wounded soldiers for the holiday, and now Hannibal drew out a single ice cube, holding it in front of Face’s eyes. “You sure you’re doing ok?” he breathed. “If you’re still hurting too much…”
“Pain’s gone, Boss, honest. Don’t stop, please…” He was almost cross-eyed focussing on that melting cube, some distant part of his mind noting that Hannibal’s normally steady hand was shaking ever so slightly.
“If you move, you’ll shift that ice pack.” A warning note in that growl he loved so much. “You have to stay totally still. Can you do that, Temp?”
“Ye-ess.” Breath hitching as the ice was gently brushed over his lips, Face barely managed to keep himself still. “Oh, John…”
The ice was trailed down his neck, Hannibal following its cool path with his lips as Face suddenly found it hard to breath. The combination of hot and cold, coupled with the knowledge that all of the Van Smyth family was under the same roof as them, was enough to steal his air away. Needing more contact, he brought his left hand up to caress his lover’s bicep, swallowing heavily as Hannibal continued lower, stopping to tease his nipples briefly before continuing down, down…
* * * *
Well, that had certainly been different. Still catching his breath, Hannibal decided there and then that no matter the difficulties involved in getting hold of ice in some of their hotter postings, tonight’s experience would definitely be repeated when Face’s shoulder was fully healed. Now, his lover lay asleep next to him, his features relaxed and free of pain, and Hannibal had been amazed his beautifully responsive boy had managed to hold himself in check as they had explored all possible uses of a simple ice cube. Actually, more than one ice cube.
“Happy Thanksgiving, Temp,” he whispered, settling himself carefully along Face’s uninjured side. He pressed a soft kiss to his lover’s cheek, and Face mumbled a little in his sleep, his head turning slightly towards Hannibal. “I love you so much, baby.”
Tugging the blankets a little more closely around their bodies against the chill of the night, Hannibal found himself looking forward to the rest of the weekend. Two more whole days before they had to report back to base, two days of being able to relax with his lover and enjoy the rest of the holiday weekend. The leftovers from their feast today would be amazing, and his father had hinted that there might be fireworks tomorrow, knowing how much Ben would love those.
For now, lying in the dark with the man he loved, all Hannibal could think about was his mother’s Thanksgiving tradition. What was he most thankful for? Right now, he was unbelievably thankful that, despite all the obstacles in their way, he and Face had each other. And, with his parents gradually becoming more accepting of their relationship, thankful that they had this haven where they could be themselves. As he closed his eyes, feeling sleep calling, for Hannibal Smith this was one of the best Thanksgivings of his life.
The further he drove from base, the more relaxed Hannibal felt himself becoming. The team had only got back from their last mission the day before, and had rushed through their usual reports and post-mission briefings in a desperate attempt to still get away on time for the holiday. The last couple of years had seen the team on deployment over Thanksgiving, but this year they all had plans, and Hannibal in particular had been looking forward to taking Face back to his family’s ranch again.
BA had, much to everyone’s surprise, invited Murdock back to Chicago to spend the holiday with his family. The pilot had needed no persuasion at all - Mama Baracus’ cooking was legendary, and the thought of seeing the team’s big guy with all his cousins and extended family was far too good to resist. Hannibal and Face had both made Murdock promise to bring back lots of gossip, and despite BA’s grumbling they all knew he was looking forward to having his crazy friend to stay. They had all left base at the crack of dawn and started their long drives in two different directions.
Now, after several hours of long, straight roads, the ranch was only another few minutes away. Glancing away from the road for a second, Hannibal smiled as he looked at his other half, asleep in the passenger seat. Face had taken the worst of it on this recent mission, a dislocated shoulder thankfully now back in place and strapped up in a secure sling. For once, the doctors seemed to have found a painkiller that didn’t make the kid throw up, but it did seem to knock him out, and Face was currently drooling all over the seatbelt, and over his own shirt.
“Sweetheart?” he called softly, trying not to startle his lover. “Temp, we’re nearly there. Time to wake up now.”
No response at all for a few moments, then a long low groan as Face started to climb out of his drugged sleep. “Hmmwhazzit…?”
“Really eloquent there, baby,” Hannibal chuckled, as Face groggily lifted his head, a string of drool still hanging from his chin. “Might want to wipe your mouth. You back with me?”
Face levered himself a little more upright, grimacing as he realised the mess he had made. “Yuck. You could have woken me sooner, Hannibal. Now I have to meet your parents covered in saliva.” He sounded more alert already, though there was still a slight slur to his words.
“Quit your moaning. You needed the sleep.” His humour faded as he watched his lover trying to straighten himself out with only one hand. “Don’t worry, kid. They’ll be too busy fussing over you to notice a few damp patches.”
“Sounds like an interesting challenge…”
Hannibal knew that tone well. And it had been a long mission with no alone time, with last night spent busy with paperwork and, in Face’s case, medics. Still, not yet. “Down boy. You’ll have to wait a little longer, Temp, we’ll barely make it in time for dinner as it is. And we are going to have to be very, very careful of - ”
“Yes, I know, the stupid shoulder.” A definite note of frustration there, and Hannibal frowned as he started to turn into the long driveway. “It’s been a long time, boss.”
“We’ll have plenty of time this weekend, sweetheart, I promise. Just nothing too… energetic for you, okay?”
A heavy sigh from his passenger, and Hannibal managed to swallow his smile. Face really was the worst patient ever, although he could relate, not being much better himself. He guided the car to a stop outside the ranch, spotting George outside the garage working on one of his father’s cars, and the old man immediately started walking over to meet them as Hannibal climbed out of the car, hurrying around to the passenger side. “I can do it, Hannibal, I’m not made of glass,” came the predictable protest as Face was helped out of the car, immediately negated by a pained hiss as he adjusted his sling.
George had reached them by that point, and stood hovering. “Happy Thanksgiving, sirs. Can I help at all? Take your bags?”
“Thanks, George,” Hannibal tossed the old man the car keys. “I want to get this one inside.” Face let himself be led towards the main house, grumbling all the time but still throwing a brief ‘hello’ at the handyman. George never ceased to amaze Hannibal - the old guy was easily in his late seventies but never seemed to age, still as capable as he had ever been. Hannibal held a soft spot for the old guy, fondly remembering some of the technical tricks and shortcuts he had learnt from him when he was a teenager. He longed to introduce him to BA, knowing the two would love talking mechanics together. “Don’t work all day, George. It’s Thanksgiving!” he called back, knowing the older man too well.
Ushering Face up the steps and into the house, Hannibal had a flashback to the first time he had brought his lover out to meet his family. It hadn’t been the smoothest visit but they had parted on a good note, with his parent’s concerns about their relationship eased. They had spoken on the telephone more often recently than they had since his days in basic training, his parents always asking after Face, and Hannibal felt their relationship was more honest now than it ever had been. Hopefully this weekend would be far easier for all of them, and now Face knew a little more about what to expect from the Van Smyths, Hannibal was looking forward to showing him how his family did Thanksgiving, as well as enjoying some time where the two of them could just be themselves without having to look over their shoulder the entire time. No pun intended.
* * * *
The ranch was just as big as Face remembered, and the hallway just as impressive. As Hannibal closed the door behind them, the warmth of the house rushed over him and he gave an involuntary shudder, not realising he had been cold until that moment. His lover seemed to notice, wrapping him in a quick, careful hug from behind before moving them further into the house. Delicious smells of cooking filled the hall.
“I wonder where - “ Hannibal started to ask, when Consuela appeared from one of the back corridors, where Face assumed the kitchen was. She held a large, heavy-looking silver serving tray in her hands, a protective dome covering whatever lay beneath. Its sheer size made the tiny woman look even smaller, but she still smiled warmly when she spotted the latecomers.
“You are here, good, good. Happy Thanksgiving!” she enthused. “Family already sitting down, Sir, go through, please.” It was at that point that the housekeeper seemed to notice his sling, and her face visibly grew concerned. “Mr Peck, your arm?”
“It’s not so bad, Consuela, don’t worry,” he assured her, as Hannibal stepped up close to her and spoke rapidly in her ear. Face caught a couple of Spanish words but didn’t hear everything, and soon his lover was back at his side, taking his good arm and leading him towards the dining room. “Hannibal, what - ?”
“Don’t worry, kid. Come on, they haven’t started yet.”
Once they reached the dining room, of course they were both immediately the centre of attention, making a late entrance as only Hannibal Smith could. Rich, Hannibal’s older brother, was the first to greet them, rising from the table to embrace his little brother and awkwardly shaking Face’s left hand. Rich’s wife Jackie was swift to follow, kissing both men on the cheek, their son Ben waving enthusiastically, while Hannibal’s parents remained seated, smiling and clearly pleased to see their son, but Face remembered their slightly formal ways from their last visit, feeling bad they had arrived so close to dinner being served.
The predictable fuss and questioning about his shoulder was curtailed as Consuela followed them into the room with that large serving dish, and everyone quickly took their seats again as she placed it on the table in front of Jonathon Van Smyth senior, Hannibal’s father. The older man was dressed in a smart black suit, and in fact everyone was dressed in their finery, Face taking the chance to compliment Hannibal’s mother on her elegant silver dress, to her obvious delight, before surreptitiously adjusting his sling to cover the damp patch on his shirt. Damn drugs.
The dining table was decorated festively and the food already out looked amazing, dishes of mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, sweet potatoes, green beans, and so many different vegetables that Face couldn’t quite take it all in. The only thing missing, the centrepiece, could only be under the serving dish, and sure enough, removing the cover with a flourish, Mr Van Smyth revealed an impressive turkey, far too large even for the seven gathered.
“Now that everyone has arrived,” Hannibal’s father began, “Our Thanksgiving feast can begin. I’m grateful that you could all be here today, both my sons safe, and all our family.” He smiled lovingly at his wife, and Face felt an immediate warmth spread through him as Hannibal took his hand, squeezing gently, letting him know he was included in that last. “We give thanks for this meal, and especially to Consuela for working so hard to prepare it.” A chorus of murmured ‘Amen’s and Face remembered that Hannibal had explained his family weren’t exactly religious, so very different from his own upbringing.
As Mr Van Smyth ceremonially carved the first slice of turkey, allowing Consuela to lift it away to continue serving, Face had a moment of panic - how was he meant to do this with only one hand? Turning to Hannibal, that panic must have shown on his face as his lover leaned close, whispering into his ear, “Don’t worry, sweetheart, it’s okay.” Unsure what that meant - was Hannibal going to feed him? - he decided to trust his other half, and let himself be swept up in the jolly conversation around the table as everyone began talking at once.
“So, Templeton, are you able to tell us what happened?” asked Eleanor Smyth, as Consuela began placing heaped plates of Turkey in front of them. “My youngest son only told us that you were all freshly back from a mission, but not what had happened, nor that you were injured.”
“Where was the mission?” added Ben, Hannibal’s 12 year old nephew, enthusiastically. Face remembered from their last visit that the boy had soaked up as many army stories as they had been allowed to tell. But in this case… He exchanged a glum look with his lover.
“We can’t say much, I’m afraid,” Hannibal started, as a plate was placed in front of him, and another one appeared in front of Face. “It’s all classified, we only got back yesterday. Face - Temp dislocated his shoulder but there’s no permanent damage.” Ben looked so disappointed that he added a little more detail. “He did it hauling me and someone else to safety after a bridge collapsed.” There was so much concealed in that short statement; the ‘someone else’ had actually been BA, and Face knew how guilty his team and particularly his lover felt about the way he had been injured. But there had been no other way to get them up, no way Face would have let them fall, and he squeezed his lover’s thigh reassuringly beneath the table with his good hand.
Ben looked much more impressed at that statement, but Rich and Jackie tactfully changed the topic of conversation as everyone helped themselves to the feast laid out before them. Face was surprised to see his plate of turkey had been cut into tiny, manageable pieces, and exchanged a knowing look with Hannibal. So that had been what that conversation with Consuela was about, how typical of his Colonel to always be planning three steps ahead. To his relief, with Hannibal serving him from the assortment of dishes, he found he didn’t embarrass himself eating with only one hand.
Conversation was easy and light-hearted, and Face remembered again how much had enjoyed getting to know Rich and Jackie on his last visit. They talked about anything but life in the Rangers, which was a wonderful change, from Rich’s latest court case to Jackie’s new colleagues. When asked, Ben told them all about his exploits at boarding school, Face able to relate to some of the dorm stories he told from his own childhood at the orphanage, and soon everyone was laughing as they all traded ‘naughtiest things I did as a child’. Even Hannibal’s straight-laced parents joined in, his father revealing how he had once swapped a prize racehorse for an old farm horse the night before a big race, much to the clear delight of his two sons, and the shock of his wife.
As the meal went on, and everyone’s plates began to empty, Face made sure he took some time to speak to Eleanor, aware that, of all Hannibal’s family, she was the one he still needed to connect with most. She had been so very certain that her youngest son was only with Face because of his looks, unable to see what else they could have in common, but now Face hoped she could see how attentive Hannibal was being towards him, all the little touches and looks of concern thrown his way, and, out of the whole family, she was the one who asked him repeatedly if he was alright, if he was in any pain.
Just when he felt he couldn’t possibly eat another thing, Mr Van Smyth asked loudly, “Any room for dessert?”
A chorus of groans met that statement, Face’s among them. Having been on MREs for the last couple of weeks, the rich food was already catching up with him, as beautiful as it had all been.
“Perhaps we should save the pies for later, darling?” Eleanor suggested, patting her napkin at her lips. “Why don’t we go around the table?”
Hannibal leant over to whisper in his ear. “We all have to say what we are most thankful for. My mother’s favourite tradition.”
Eleanor started, surprising Face with the emotion in her voice. He hadn’t expected Hannibal’s slightly distant, formal mother to be so open. “I am thankful that I have all my family around me, both my sons safe, and the ones they love all safely in our house.” She raised her wine glass and looked at her husband as she added, “I am thankful that we have each other.” Jonathon Senior leaned over and kissed his wife gently, as Hannibal slipped a hand onto Face’s knee.
The rest of the family took their turns, and Face could really feel the love in the room. Hannibal’s father was thankful for all the good things the family had, while Rich and Jackie were each most thankful for each other and for Ben. The young boy made them all laugh when he announced he was most thankful for his new bike, the honesty of youth, while Hannibal continued to lighten the mood by saying first that he was thankful for Face’s strength and good grip.
When Face swatted his lover gently on the arm, Hannibal sobered up a little. “I’m most thankful that we can all be together. The man I love, and my whole family.” That surprised Face as well, that his usually controlled colonel could be so expressive in front of his parents, given the difficulties they had had. He swallowed carefully over the sudden lump in his throat, decided there and then that he loved this family tradition.
Then it was his turn. Feeling the blush on his cheeks as all eyes turned to him, he resisted the urge to make a joke or to be fake, still determined to show Hannibal’s parents the man he truly was, rather than the conman. “I’m… I’ve never been to a Thanksgiving like this,” he started. “This is amazing, and I’m thankful that you have invited me here to share it with you all. But, I guess the thing I’m most thankful for… It’s you, John, always.”
Figuring he’d done this before, and it was the holidays after all, he leaned over and kissed his lover gently on the lips. The family was silent for a moment before a chorus of ‘aah’s sounded, plus a wolf-whistle from Ben. Slightly self-conscious, Face was grateful when Consuela started clearing the table, and the conversation moved on.
* * * *
“So you’re not a huge fan of horses, I take it?”
“Never been around them.” Face would have looked up but he was too busy concentrating on where he was treading. Horse manure on his new loafers was not going to be easy to clean up. “We didn’t exactly have too many fields in downtown LA.”
Rich laughed. “Forgot you were a city boy.” He waited patiently for Face to catch up as they walked across to join Hannibal and Ben, who were already inside the stables. He patted his belly, stretching slightly. “God, it’s good to get some fresh air. My parents sure know how to put together a Thanksgiving dinner.”
“Yeah, that was an amazing feast. I have no idea how I’m gonna find room for any kind of pudding.”
“Oh, you have to! Consuela’s pumpkin pie is the best you will ever taste.” Rich guided them to a stop in the doorway, and Face smiled to see his lover and young Ben already fussing over the horses. Hannibal looked so at home here, so relaxed, dressed down now in old jeans and an oversized sweater beneath a battered leather jacket, and Face took the time to just watch the colonel laughing and joking with his nephew. “You’ve been good for him, you know?”
“Hmm?” Face glanced up to see Hannibal’s big brother watching him, a small smile hovering on his lips.
“John. You’ve been good for him, I can see. He always used to be so tense when he came home; even speaking to him over the phone he was always… distant.” Rich folded his arms, leaning back against the doorframe. “He seems so much more relaxed with you by his side. It’s great to see.”
Face couldn’t stop his smile. “He’s been good for me too. And good to me.” A sudden nudge at his leg made him look down, and he smiled wider as the farm cat wrapped herself around his legs. “Ah, now this is more my kind of pet.”
“You should feel honoured; she never normally lets anyone near her.”
Kneeling down, careful not to kneel in anything nasty and careful not to jar his shoulder, he happily fussed the little creature. “We always had a cat when I was growing up. The nuns were kind of old fashioned, thought it would keep the mice population down, told us it wasn’t a pet. But of course it was, for us.”
A slightly awkward pause, and Face almost wished he hadn’t said that, hadn’t reminded Rich of his background. “Sorry, man. Must’ve been hard.” For all that the older man sounded genuine, Face was glad when he tactfully changed the subject. “Benjy’s been pestering us to get him a dog. Of course, Jackie keeps pointing out that he’s away at school so much that it wouldn’t be fair. I can see her point, but every kid should have a pet of some kind.”
“Yeah, I get that.” Rich steadied him as he climbed carefully back to his feet. “I guess you and John always had the horses?”
“A couple of dogs too. The parents were pretty keen on us taking charge of their care, ’taking responsibility’ I think they called it.” Rich pinned him with a shrewd gaze, the same blue-grey eyes as Hannibal and their father. “How have they been with you? Since all the trouble last time?”
“Fine, actually.” Face was starting to shiver a little in the cool air. “I know Hannibal speaks to them more often than he used to. And they’ve been really okay with me so far, not that we’ve had much time to talk yet today.”
“Wait ‘til we all get stuck into the games later. Any grudges they still hold will come out then, I guarantee!” Hannibal was headed over towards them now, pulling off his jacket much to Face’s surprise. “Hey little brother, just telling your other half to watch his back when the games start.”
Hannibal laughed out loud at that. “Oh, hell yes. You think I’m competitive, kid? You just wait until you see where I get that streak from!” He gently draped his jacket around Face’s shoulders, careful not to nudge his right side. “You getting cold?” At Face’s reluctant nod, he wrapped a careful arm around his waist and started them back towards the ranch house. “Sorry, Rich. We’ve been in a pretty hot place, and he’s from California.”
“You make me sound completely feeble!” Face protested half-heartedly, having enjoyed spending some time with Hannibal’s brother. Rich’s laughter from behind him, as well as his lover’s soft chuckling, made him feel a little better. “See you inside for games and pie, guys!”
* * * *
The rest of the afternoon and evening passed in a cosy blur of games, television, and pie. Far, far too much pie. Hannibal sat back on the soft sofa, wondering if there was any way he could subtly undo the button on his pants without being noticed, letting the soft crackle of the fire relax his mind. The board games had been as competitive as he expected, and he had been thrilled to see how good his nephew had become, giving Rich and his father quite a challenge at Monopoly.
He had been surprised that Face hadn’t done better at the game, which had raged on for a couple of hours in the end, broken up by some football on the television. The young man was incredibly good at games of all sorts, especially card games, although the team all gave him grief for cheating quite openly. At one point, after a consistent losing streak involving far too much rent paid out, his lover had caught his eye and winked, letting Hannibal know it was probably a deliberate ploy. Thinking about it, it was his father who had been convinced Face was after the Van Smyth family money - perhaps bankrupting the man, even at Monopoly, didn’t seem like such a good idea to his clever partner.
“Move up a bit, Hannibal.” Face slid carefully onto the sofa, carrying a plate and fork in his good hand.
“More pie?” Hannibal couldn’t quite believe his eyes as his lover settled against him, before cautiously balancing his plate on his knee. Sure enough, another slice of pumpkin pie began to vanish as Face tucked in. “Glad to see you are enjoying your food!”
“Mmm,” the other man replied around a mouthful of pie, nodding. “Rich was right, this really is the best pie ever. And it’s only my third slice.” At Hannibal’s incredulous look, he admitted, “Okay, my fourth. But you know we’re back in serious training next week.”
“Not with that shoulder you aren’t!” He reached across to steady the plate, secretly pleased to see Face eating what he wanted. His lover sometimes got too focussed on his workout regime, on keeping his figure, and he leaned across to press a kiss the younger man’s temple. “You treat yourself, baby.”
On the opposite sofa, sipping her glass of sherry, his mother smiled at them. “It’s good to see Consuela’s hard work not going to waste, Templeton. She really is quite the cook.”
“Absolutely, Mrs Van Smyth.” Face finished off his fourth helping, and Hannibal took his plate off him, placing it on the table before wrapping an arm carefully around his waist, pulling him closer. “The whole meal, in fact the whole day, has been really fantastic. Thank you so much for inviting me here; I’ve never had a Thanksgiving like this before.” The honesty in that soft voice really stood out to Hannibal, and he squeezed that narrow waist gently.
“Please, call me Eleanor.” That snapped Hannibal’s head up in shock. Perhaps his mother really was thawing towards Face. “And it’s been our pleasure. Having Jonathon - Having John back home is always special, and I’ve been looking forward to spending some more time with you both.” She stood up carefully from the sofa. “I think I’m going to turn in. Good night, everyone.” As she crossed behind the sofa, Hannibal felt her gently kiss him on the top of the head. He felt almost like a little boy again, curled up at home, his mother’s love surrounding him, and marvelled at the fact that she had finally called him by his chosen name.
A chorus of ‘goodnight’s followed Eleanor from the room, and her departure signalled the beginning of the end of the evening. Jackie took a yawning Ben off to bed, while Hannibal watched his father and brother head outside, most likely to smoke a cigar or two. They gestured for him to join them, but strangely enough he didn’t feel like moving, enjoying the rare moment of quiet with his lover pressed against his side, on a soft couch, in front of a warm fire. Rich carried on out but his father lingered in the doorway for a moment, a strange look on his face, before offering the couple a small smile and a nod.
Left alone in the room, Hannibal couldn’t quite believe that both his parents finally seemed to be giving them their blessings. His lover also seemed to realise the significance of the moment, but as if in agreement neither of them spoke, settling closer against each other and letting the glow from the fire and the soft crackle fill the room. Face soon grew heavy against him, head coming to rest against his shoulder, but the younger man couldn’t hide his soft gasp as he shifted against the cushions.
“Come on, sweetheart,” Hannibal murmured, gently kissing Face’s forehead. “It’s time for good little Lieutenants to take their painkillers and go to bed.”
“Since when have I been a good little Lieutenant?” Okay, so he should have seen that response coming perhaps. But Face still let Hannibal help him to his feet and lead him from the room, hand in hand.
As they climbed the stairs, Hannibal felt his lover press deliberately close against him, the hardness pressing into his hip telling him that, while he might get Face into bed, they wouldn’t be getting any sleep any time soon. And Hannibal, feeling uncomfortable already in his own pants, didn’t mind that thought too badly.
* * * *
He couldn’t hold in the slight hiss of pain as Hannibal gently lowered the ice pack onto his aching shoulder, nor the whine of frustration. This wasn’t how he had seen his Thanksgiving evening ending. Flat on his back maybe, although he had been thinking of other, more creative positions, and a definite yes to his lover hovering over his body, but not with that look of concern on his face.
“Easy,” Hannibal soothed, adjusting the pack slightly. “Give it time to work. The pills will kick in soon.” A brief smile cut through the worry. “I told you to take things slowly.”
“It’s your fault for being so damn hot,” Face groaned, feeling the coldness starting to ease the throb of his torn muscles. Hannibal was probably right, he shouldn’t have tried to get frisky in the shower, should have relaxed into the gentle massage rather than trying to take things up a notch. “Oh gods, that feels good.”
The older man leaned down over him, their naked chests pressing together, and kissed him carefully, too carefully for Face’s liking, but he knew how guilty Hannibal still felt about the way he had been hurt. He felt his arousal kick up once more, but the other man pulled back, one hand still holding the pack in place over his shoulder. “Lie still, baby, please.” Those pale blue-grey eyes stared into his own. “So how was your day?”
“Hmm, fantastic.” Those amazing pills were definitely kicking in now, and Face felt his body relaxing into the soft mattress. “Your family throws an amazing Thanksgiving, John. It’s been really great.” And it really had been, so very different from all those holidays as one child among many. Even the rare holidays he had spent at a foster home hadn’t come close to measuring up to this one day, spent in the warmth of his lover’s family. “The food, the company… Thank you,” he finished softly.
“For what?”
“For everything. For loving me enough to bring me home. Again.” He chuckled. “And for the ice pack.”
“I should be thanking you, for not letting me fall - “
“Don’t go there, sweetheart.” If he could have kissed the pain away from Hannibal’s handsome face he would have. Perhaps his lover read that wish on his own face, as he leant down again, their passionate kiss much more intense than before. Face fought the urge to surge up against him, knowing any move on his part would probably end this before they had really begun. And his shoulder really was feeling much, much better now…
Hannibal pulled back again, eyes now dark with lust, and fumbled briefly with the bag of ice. Consuela had apologised profusely for not having any proper ice packs to hand, clearly not having expected wounded soldiers for the holiday, and now Hannibal drew out a single ice cube, holding it in front of Face’s eyes. “You sure you’re doing ok?” he breathed. “If you’re still hurting too much…”
“Pain’s gone, Boss, honest. Don’t stop, please…” He was almost cross-eyed focussing on that melting cube, some distant part of his mind noting that Hannibal’s normally steady hand was shaking ever so slightly.
“If you move, you’ll shift that ice pack.” A warning note in that growl he loved so much. “You have to stay totally still. Can you do that, Temp?”
“Ye-ess.” Breath hitching as the ice was gently brushed over his lips, Face barely managed to keep himself still. “Oh, John…”
The ice was trailed down his neck, Hannibal following its cool path with his lips as Face suddenly found it hard to breath. The combination of hot and cold, coupled with the knowledge that all of the Van Smyth family was under the same roof as them, was enough to steal his air away. Needing more contact, he brought his left hand up to caress his lover’s bicep, swallowing heavily as Hannibal continued lower, stopping to tease his nipples briefly before continuing down, down…
* * * *
Well, that had certainly been different. Still catching his breath, Hannibal decided there and then that no matter the difficulties involved in getting hold of ice in some of their hotter postings, tonight’s experience would definitely be repeated when Face’s shoulder was fully healed. Now, his lover lay asleep next to him, his features relaxed and free of pain, and Hannibal had been amazed his beautifully responsive boy had managed to hold himself in check as they had explored all possible uses of a simple ice cube. Actually, more than one ice cube.
“Happy Thanksgiving, Temp,” he whispered, settling himself carefully along Face’s uninjured side. He pressed a soft kiss to his lover’s cheek, and Face mumbled a little in his sleep, his head turning slightly towards Hannibal. “I love you so much, baby.”
Tugging the blankets a little more closely around their bodies against the chill of the night, Hannibal found himself looking forward to the rest of the weekend. Two more whole days before they had to report back to base, two days of being able to relax with his lover and enjoy the rest of the holiday weekend. The leftovers from their feast today would be amazing, and his father had hinted that there might be fireworks tomorrow, knowing how much Ben would love those.
For now, lying in the dark with the man he loved, all Hannibal could think about was his mother’s Thanksgiving tradition. What was he most thankful for? Right now, he was unbelievably thankful that, despite all the obstacles in their way, he and Face had each other. And, with his parents gradually becoming more accepting of their relationship, thankful that they had this haven where they could be themselves. As he closed his eyes, feeling sleep calling, for Hannibal Smith this was one of the best Thanksgivings of his life.