More Than Just A Pretty Face (H/F)
Written for two prompts over on the Yahoo H/F group. Prompt one was from Jullian Gray who asked for:
Five times Face got upset about being called 'pretty boy' and the one time he didn't mind one bit.
And prompt two is from Indigo Angels:
Face is used to people having a go at him, physically and verbally, (he knows he can be irritating) but what he's not used to is his team weighing-in in his defence.
“Don’t call me that.” Face can feel his hands clenching into fists by his sides, a tension creeping up his neck and tying itself into a knot at the base of his skull. If there’s one thing he truly hates, it’s that nickname.
“What’s wrong, pretty boy?” Pike visibly puffs himself up as the group of Black Forest flunkies standing in front of Face obediently fall over themselves laughing. He’s clearly spoiling for a fight, for no particular reason Face can guess. Just another bad day in Black Forest land. “I’m just stating a fact, right? We all know you’re nothing but a pretty boy. Smith’s pet pretty boy.”
That word. That horrible, cruel word. It’s followed Face around for as long as he can remember, since he was just a little boy. And he’s hated it for just as long.
A thousand different iterations, the same meaning every single time. It’s a curse, not a blessing.
Isn’t he pretty?
The Nuns always cooed over his blond curls and blue eyes, dressing him in the finest clothes the orphanage had to offer. The other boys and girls would look on, jealous of the attention they all wanted so badly, and pinch him when the Nuns turned away.
Aren’t you just the prettiest thing?
It was nearly always the first words out of the mouths of the families who visited the orphanage, before they inevitably left with a prettier little girl or a younger boy, leaving him convinced that being pretty just wasn’t enough.
I hate that you’re prettier than I am.
That was his high-school sweetheart, breaking up with him a week before prom and crushing his young heart. They’d had bigger problems, namely the fact she’d been cheating on him with the quarterback for a month, but her words still cut him to the bone.
Pretty boys can’t be soldiers.
The other recruits would laugh at him and push him around, even after his hair was buzzed short, while he was still just a gangly but determined teenager. He simply tried his hardest to ignore the taunts and avoid the bullies. The Army was the best chance he had. One day, he’d show them all.
Such a pretty, pretty face.
Words whispered cruelly in his ear as rough fingers stroked gently, teasingly over Face’s stubbled cheek, while he knelt bound, gagged and beaten at the feet of the Iraqi rebel soldier. Those words would be whispered over and over and over again as the hours passed and the abuse deepened, until Face finally became numb in both mind and body.
“Come on then, pretty boy.” Pike’s teasing words draw Face’s attention back to the moment, and he suddenly realises that the rest of Black Forest have spread out to form a loose circle around the two of them. An arena, of sorts. “You want to take a swing at me with those pretty little fists?”
Oh, they really do want a fight. Shame Face really doesn’t want to give them one.
Face simply can’t help the way he looks. The bright blue eyes and the curly hair that had darkened to a caramel brown as he grew older, well, for those he can only thank the faceless parents who had left him on the doorstep of the orphanage when he was barely walking. The sharp cheekbones and the chiselled jawline, similarly, even though he doesn’t actually like his big ears or his distinctive nose. They’re obviously appealing to others, when he can’t see that in himself.
He’d be the first to admit that he does work damn hard on the rest of his body, bulking up his muscles and toning up his stomach and chest, remembering all too well the skinny boy he’d been back in college before he’d discovered the sheer joy and stress-relief of a good long session in the gym.
Now his body is a finely-tuned weapon, which is exactly as it should be for a soldier. He knows he looks strong, and he is. He knows he looks like a force to be reckoned with, though if people still underestimate him then that’s their mistake. It’s usually the last mistake they make.
And of course he knows women and men find him physically attractive. He knows how to use his looks to his advantage. A smile here, a bit of flirting there, well, it doesn’t cost him anything and it makes it easier to get the things his team needs. Thankfully Hannibal understands.
Handsome, he can deal with. Beautiful, he can tolerate. But still they just call him pretty.
He’s so much more than pretty. He’s a Ranger, he’s a sharpshooter, and yes, he does belong to Hannibal heart and soul, but he’s also his own man. He’s certainly no one’s boy.
He’s better than this.
Face forces his fists to unclench, shrugging lightly to loosen the tension in his shoulders, and puts a big smile on his lips. “I don’t want to fight you, Pike.” He huffs a dismissive laugh, knowing how much it will irritate the other man. “Not today, at least. Not over this.”
“You chicken, pretty boy?” Pike actually makes a little bock-bock noise, flapping his arms briefly in the universally recognised chicken manoeuvre, and the Black Forest goons laugh obediently. “What, are you afraid I’ll damage that pretty face of yours?”
“Pike, just back off, man.” Face takes a breath and remembers everything Hannibal has ever taught him about controlling his temper. He really is better than this. And this pathetic excuse for a hired soldier really, truly isn’t worth it. He should just walk away now, but -
“Are you afraid Smith won’t want you if you lose your looks?” Face freezes, feeling his smile slip away as his heart skips a beat. That used to be his greatest fear, though he’s been with Hannibal long enough to know that his colonel loves him for what’s inside far more than what’s on the outside. But Pike clearly knows he’s scored a direct hit, even if he doesn’t know for sure that Face and Hannibal are more than CO and XO, and he dares to step into Face’s personal space with a cocky grin. “Is that what it is, pretty boy?”
“Don’t call him that, fool.” The angry bark comes from somewhere behind Face, and it takes him a moment to realise that it’s BA. He turns to see Murdock right by BA’s side as they both elbow their way through the ring of stunned Black Forest dopes, appearing as if out of nowhere. “Just ‘cause you’re too ugly for words, don’t you dare talk to him like that.”
Pike actually takes a half-step back in surprise, his grin faltering for just a second before he squares his shoulders once more. “Well well well, the whole freak show is in town today. If it isn’t the ape and the lunatic - ”
“Hey, shut your mouth, Pike!” It’s Murdock, beating Face to the protest. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you, if you can’t say something nice then you should say nothing at all?”
BA and Murdock move quickly to stand closer to Face, one by each shoulder, and Face can actually feel himself standing a little taller as their unexpected presence gives him the strength he didn’t know he was missing. He’s still not used to having their unconditional love and support, even after all these years together as a team.
“There’s another saying, Pike, and I think you’ve definitely heard this one.” Face grins, glancing sideways at Murdock, who winks at him, then the other way at BA, who gives him a firm nod with steely eyes. “Sticks and stones may break my bones…”
It’s not even worth finishing the sentence. With a final dismissive laugh, the three of them turn as one and walk away from Pike, the ring of black-clad soldiers-for-hire parting silently to allow them through. And only then does Face see Hannibal, standing in the shadow of a nearby tent, his entire body tensed as if ready to pounce and his sharp eyes watching his three boys. Face knows their colonel would have stepped in if they’d needed him, in a heartbeat, though he also knows Hannibal’s presence this time round would have escalated things rather than deflating the situation.
Hannibal steps away from the shadows to fall in beside Face as they head off into the base, leaving Pike and his followers far behind them. “Everything okay, boys?” the colonel asks the team at large, though Face can feel his lover’s eyes fixed on him alone.
“Nothing I couldn’t handle, boss.” Face shrugs, sharing a fistbump with BA and feeling Murdock’s hot hand pat him between the shoulder blades. “Just some childish name calling.”
“Pike using ‘pretty’ as an insult again, right?” Of course Hannibal knows. Face can’t help but smile a little; Hannibal always knows. “He always forgets that ‘pretty’ can actually be a brilliant form of camouflage. What’s on the outside can just be a distraction.”
“The Coral snake is really poisonous, but it looks just the same as the Scarlet Kingsnake, which is totally harmless and really pretty,” Murdock chirps up helpfully and randomly. “And the blue poison dart frog is absolutely the prettiest little frog in the whole world, at least in my humble opinion, but you wouldn’t want to mess with it.”
“Are you saying I’m a poisonous creature, buddy?” Face can’t help but laugh as Hannibal drapes one reassuring arm around his shoulders, tugging him close against his side as they walk. It’s the closest they can get to a hug in the middle of the base, though now, surrounded by his friends and his lover, Pike’s petty jibes seem very far away.
“Pretty but deadly,” BA joins in with a laugh of his own.
Murdock, predictably, replies, “More silent but deadly where you’re concerned, big guy!”
And as the whole thing dissolves into juvenile fart jokes, even Hannibal throwing a few off-colour remarks into the mix, Face just basks in the company and comradeship of his team, and the love of his partner. He’s a lucky guy, and these three men know he’s definitely more than just a pretty face. If other people don’t want to look more than skin-deep, well, that’s their own problem.
Five times Face got upset about being called 'pretty boy' and the one time he didn't mind one bit.
And prompt two is from Indigo Angels:
Face is used to people having a go at him, physically and verbally, (he knows he can be irritating) but what he's not used to is his team weighing-in in his defence.
“Don’t call me that.” Face can feel his hands clenching into fists by his sides, a tension creeping up his neck and tying itself into a knot at the base of his skull. If there’s one thing he truly hates, it’s that nickname.
“What’s wrong, pretty boy?” Pike visibly puffs himself up as the group of Black Forest flunkies standing in front of Face obediently fall over themselves laughing. He’s clearly spoiling for a fight, for no particular reason Face can guess. Just another bad day in Black Forest land. “I’m just stating a fact, right? We all know you’re nothing but a pretty boy. Smith’s pet pretty boy.”
That word. That horrible, cruel word. It’s followed Face around for as long as he can remember, since he was just a little boy. And he’s hated it for just as long.
A thousand different iterations, the same meaning every single time. It’s a curse, not a blessing.
Isn’t he pretty?
The Nuns always cooed over his blond curls and blue eyes, dressing him in the finest clothes the orphanage had to offer. The other boys and girls would look on, jealous of the attention they all wanted so badly, and pinch him when the Nuns turned away.
Aren’t you just the prettiest thing?
It was nearly always the first words out of the mouths of the families who visited the orphanage, before they inevitably left with a prettier little girl or a younger boy, leaving him convinced that being pretty just wasn’t enough.
I hate that you’re prettier than I am.
That was his high-school sweetheart, breaking up with him a week before prom and crushing his young heart. They’d had bigger problems, namely the fact she’d been cheating on him with the quarterback for a month, but her words still cut him to the bone.
Pretty boys can’t be soldiers.
The other recruits would laugh at him and push him around, even after his hair was buzzed short, while he was still just a gangly but determined teenager. He simply tried his hardest to ignore the taunts and avoid the bullies. The Army was the best chance he had. One day, he’d show them all.
Such a pretty, pretty face.
Words whispered cruelly in his ear as rough fingers stroked gently, teasingly over Face’s stubbled cheek, while he knelt bound, gagged and beaten at the feet of the Iraqi rebel soldier. Those words would be whispered over and over and over again as the hours passed and the abuse deepened, until Face finally became numb in both mind and body.
“Come on then, pretty boy.” Pike’s teasing words draw Face’s attention back to the moment, and he suddenly realises that the rest of Black Forest have spread out to form a loose circle around the two of them. An arena, of sorts. “You want to take a swing at me with those pretty little fists?”
Oh, they really do want a fight. Shame Face really doesn’t want to give them one.
Face simply can’t help the way he looks. The bright blue eyes and the curly hair that had darkened to a caramel brown as he grew older, well, for those he can only thank the faceless parents who had left him on the doorstep of the orphanage when he was barely walking. The sharp cheekbones and the chiselled jawline, similarly, even though he doesn’t actually like his big ears or his distinctive nose. They’re obviously appealing to others, when he can’t see that in himself.
He’d be the first to admit that he does work damn hard on the rest of his body, bulking up his muscles and toning up his stomach and chest, remembering all too well the skinny boy he’d been back in college before he’d discovered the sheer joy and stress-relief of a good long session in the gym.
Now his body is a finely-tuned weapon, which is exactly as it should be for a soldier. He knows he looks strong, and he is. He knows he looks like a force to be reckoned with, though if people still underestimate him then that’s their mistake. It’s usually the last mistake they make.
And of course he knows women and men find him physically attractive. He knows how to use his looks to his advantage. A smile here, a bit of flirting there, well, it doesn’t cost him anything and it makes it easier to get the things his team needs. Thankfully Hannibal understands.
Handsome, he can deal with. Beautiful, he can tolerate. But still they just call him pretty.
He’s so much more than pretty. He’s a Ranger, he’s a sharpshooter, and yes, he does belong to Hannibal heart and soul, but he’s also his own man. He’s certainly no one’s boy.
He’s better than this.
Face forces his fists to unclench, shrugging lightly to loosen the tension in his shoulders, and puts a big smile on his lips. “I don’t want to fight you, Pike.” He huffs a dismissive laugh, knowing how much it will irritate the other man. “Not today, at least. Not over this.”
“You chicken, pretty boy?” Pike actually makes a little bock-bock noise, flapping his arms briefly in the universally recognised chicken manoeuvre, and the Black Forest goons laugh obediently. “What, are you afraid I’ll damage that pretty face of yours?”
“Pike, just back off, man.” Face takes a breath and remembers everything Hannibal has ever taught him about controlling his temper. He really is better than this. And this pathetic excuse for a hired soldier really, truly isn’t worth it. He should just walk away now, but -
“Are you afraid Smith won’t want you if you lose your looks?” Face freezes, feeling his smile slip away as his heart skips a beat. That used to be his greatest fear, though he’s been with Hannibal long enough to know that his colonel loves him for what’s inside far more than what’s on the outside. But Pike clearly knows he’s scored a direct hit, even if he doesn’t know for sure that Face and Hannibal are more than CO and XO, and he dares to step into Face’s personal space with a cocky grin. “Is that what it is, pretty boy?”
“Don’t call him that, fool.” The angry bark comes from somewhere behind Face, and it takes him a moment to realise that it’s BA. He turns to see Murdock right by BA’s side as they both elbow their way through the ring of stunned Black Forest dopes, appearing as if out of nowhere. “Just ‘cause you’re too ugly for words, don’t you dare talk to him like that.”
Pike actually takes a half-step back in surprise, his grin faltering for just a second before he squares his shoulders once more. “Well well well, the whole freak show is in town today. If it isn’t the ape and the lunatic - ”
“Hey, shut your mouth, Pike!” It’s Murdock, beating Face to the protest. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you, if you can’t say something nice then you should say nothing at all?”
BA and Murdock move quickly to stand closer to Face, one by each shoulder, and Face can actually feel himself standing a little taller as their unexpected presence gives him the strength he didn’t know he was missing. He’s still not used to having their unconditional love and support, even after all these years together as a team.
“There’s another saying, Pike, and I think you’ve definitely heard this one.” Face grins, glancing sideways at Murdock, who winks at him, then the other way at BA, who gives him a firm nod with steely eyes. “Sticks and stones may break my bones…”
It’s not even worth finishing the sentence. With a final dismissive laugh, the three of them turn as one and walk away from Pike, the ring of black-clad soldiers-for-hire parting silently to allow them through. And only then does Face see Hannibal, standing in the shadow of a nearby tent, his entire body tensed as if ready to pounce and his sharp eyes watching his three boys. Face knows their colonel would have stepped in if they’d needed him, in a heartbeat, though he also knows Hannibal’s presence this time round would have escalated things rather than deflating the situation.
Hannibal steps away from the shadows to fall in beside Face as they head off into the base, leaving Pike and his followers far behind them. “Everything okay, boys?” the colonel asks the team at large, though Face can feel his lover’s eyes fixed on him alone.
“Nothing I couldn’t handle, boss.” Face shrugs, sharing a fistbump with BA and feeling Murdock’s hot hand pat him between the shoulder blades. “Just some childish name calling.”
“Pike using ‘pretty’ as an insult again, right?” Of course Hannibal knows. Face can’t help but smile a little; Hannibal always knows. “He always forgets that ‘pretty’ can actually be a brilliant form of camouflage. What’s on the outside can just be a distraction.”
“The Coral snake is really poisonous, but it looks just the same as the Scarlet Kingsnake, which is totally harmless and really pretty,” Murdock chirps up helpfully and randomly. “And the blue poison dart frog is absolutely the prettiest little frog in the whole world, at least in my humble opinion, but you wouldn’t want to mess with it.”
“Are you saying I’m a poisonous creature, buddy?” Face can’t help but laugh as Hannibal drapes one reassuring arm around his shoulders, tugging him close against his side as they walk. It’s the closest they can get to a hug in the middle of the base, though now, surrounded by his friends and his lover, Pike’s petty jibes seem very far away.
“Pretty but deadly,” BA joins in with a laugh of his own.
Murdock, predictably, replies, “More silent but deadly where you’re concerned, big guy!”
And as the whole thing dissolves into juvenile fart jokes, even Hannibal throwing a few off-colour remarks into the mix, Face just basks in the company and comradeship of his team, and the love of his partner. He’s a lucky guy, and these three men know he’s definitely more than just a pretty face. If other people don’t want to look more than skin-deep, well, that’s their own problem.