fondestmemory

[at_face_value]

The job was going smoothly. It was going so smoothly that Face was actually beginning to get worried. No brawls, no guns pulled on them, none of the team had been kidnapped - it was enough to set a guy on edge. You would think infiltrating and bringing down a gun smuggling ring would have ended up with at least something going a little wrong. But it hadn’t. Which would be why he couldn’t shake the niggling feeling like the universe was saving up for one, big screw up.

The slime-ball of the week was a guy by the name of Franklin Roberts. He ran a minor gun running operation over the Mexican border; one that involved a lot of palm greasing. When someone didn’t agree with him, they were either paid off or run off - and when someone didn’t agree with him and refused to back down, things got very dangerous, very quickly. That was what their client, Harry, found out the hard way. Wound up in the hospital with a broken leg, a girlfriend in ICU, and lucky to be alive.

They always were a sucker for an underdog trying to do good.

The plan was simple enough; convince Roberts that they had a similar operation running in L.A., and that they wanted to work together. Face was up as the front-man, Hannibal was playing the money-man, and B.A. was their supplier. With the three of them having their faces known to Roberts, Murdock was acting as their behind-the-scenes support for the op.

But, for the moment, Face was in his element; and that was enough to soothe his raw nerves for now. The party was high class, the kind he hadn’t been able to visit in a long time. The downside of being assumed dead, apparently. He lifted a glass of champagne from a passing server, letting his eyes scan the crowd as he sipped it. God, he missed this. Might as well enjoy it while it lasted - which would probably be about three hours. He had a feeling Hannibal wouldn’t be picking up any more high profile jobs like this one for a while. Keeping their faces out of the media was a pretty integral part of the A-Team staying dead.

He casually glanced at the watch of a nearby guest - almost show time. Hannibal should be wrapping up his schmoozing sweep through the room, and Face had charmed his good share of guests. He had eyes on Roberts, and was just waiting for the moment to approach.

Comments

[at_face_value]

Face couldn’t help but to grin at her comment about Hannibal. Sure, there were a lot of things Hannibal could do for himself. The only problem was that he figured out a long time ago that Face could and would just do those little things for him. He had been young and eager to please his CO when he first started with the cigars - B.A. bluntly said he had been kissing ass. And he had been absolutely right. Funny how little things like that could carry on for so long.

But he didn’t want to think about Hannibal right now. There was a beautiful woman pressed against him, and Hannibal Smith ought to stay out of his head and in the damn ballroom.

He leaned into the kiss, eyes closing as he reached to cup the side of her face. God, he’d missed her. The moment her hands moved to begin to slip something into his pocket, he shifted slightly to ensure the pass was hidden from sight by the open jacket that surrounded her. The keycard was a familiar shape in his pocket, and this definitely wasn’t the first time he’d felt someone slip one of those into his pocket. But Charissa wasn’t some stranger he’d picked up in a bar any night of the week - just standing there with him was damn dangerous, much less if someone caught her slipping him a key to her room.

He pulled back from the kiss, just barely enough to speak, and opened his eyes to grin at her. “I should dance with you more often.”

[fondestmemory]

His lips were just how she remembered. As she felt his hand rest against the side of her face, Charissa couldn’t stop herself from deepening the kiss slightly. There had been no denying how much she missed him when that happened. The pass off the keycard went smoothly; she had known the second he felt something moving to slip into his pocket he’d accommodate to pull it off without a hitch. Once it was tucked away into his pocket, her fingers lingered along the fabric before she moved her hand to rest against his chest.

She almost whimpered when his lips parted from her own, eyes slowly opening to a grin plastered upon his lips. “I think we established that years ago.” She replied with a smile of her own, before a sigh fell through her already parted lips.

This was when they needed to part for the remainder of the evening. He had a job to do, she needed to get back to her hotel and out of the tight dress and into something more comfortable. She leaned back a bit and reached into the inside pocket of the jacket, producing the cigars stored there and handing them over. Oh, he could get his jacket back later.

“You might need these.”

[at_face_value]

Face grinned as he took the civars, leaning in to steal a brief, parting kiss. It was tempting, so very tempting, to linger there in that moment with her. But the scent of the cigars was stronger now that he held them, bringing Hannibal to the forefront of his mind again.

Dammit, Hannibal.

He sighed, a short, frustrated sigh. "Right. Thanks." She had likely saved him a smart remark and a look from the colonel by passing him those cigars back.

[fondestmemory]

He just had to steal a parting kiss didn’t he? That made it more tempting to linger just a bit longer on the veranda with him. Charissa had a feeling she killed the mood that had been building up between them, feelings that hadn’t stirred in a while once she handed him the cigars. It had to happen though. They could pick up where they left off when he came to see her later.

She found herself leaning in again, this time however her lips touched his cheek gently. “I’ll see you later. I missed you.” The words came out softly, lips brushing against his cheek with each word. A second later she backed away and pulled his jacket around her shoulders a bit tighter. With a smile she turned around and made her way back inside.

She was hoping that Clint would be ready to go, that his pregnant wife would text him with some weird ass pregnancy craving and they could bail. If not, she’d get a cab. Granted the hotel was only three blocks away, she really didn’t want to walk in her heels all the way there.

[at_face_value]

Face's eyes followed Charissa's retreating form until she disappeared out of sight. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, turning his face to the ground, hands resting on his hips. It'd be a lie if he said he wasn't a little shaken up. Charissa had been out of his life for more than a year now, and all it took was one look, one little dance, to drag him back down into it all again. She always had a way of doing that to him.

He ran a thumb over his lower lip, the taste of her mouth still dancing on his tongue. His skin felt like it was on fire, hearting beating hard his in chest now that it was over. It was always like that, the surge of adrenaline after pulling off a con - only this wasn't a con.

"You're playing with fire, kid,"

Face turned sharply at Hannibal's voice. The Colonel was leaning against the nearby door frame. Only god knew how long he'd been there. Face swallowed at the lump in his throat and smiled, nice and easy - Hannibal probably saw right through it.

"Well, it's a bit brisk out here. Just trying to keep warm, Colonel." He took a step towards Hannibal so they wouldn't be overheard, "How'd it go with Roberts?"

"Oh, I laid my usual charm on him. He wants to set up a meeting with our buyer." Hannibal raised his eyebrows and held out his hand, "I noticed you took your sweet time. I trust our little problem is taken care of?"

Face nodded and placed a cigar into Hannibal's outstretched, waiting hand. "I'm lucky she didn't shoot me." He tried to play it off, reaching for his jacket pocket to retrieve a lighter - only to realise it was with Charissa. Damn.

Hannibal met Face's grimace with a very pointed look and reached for his own lighter. "We rendezvous with Murdock and B.A. at 200 hour. " He paused in lighting his cigar to raise his eyebrows again at Face. "That isn't going to be a problem, is it? I would hate to interfere with your social life, Lieutenant."

Face could feel the keycard burning a hole in his pocket. He rolled his eyes and hid as best he could the flush creeping up his neck. Damnit, how long was Hannibal standing there? "No, no. No problem at all. We need to get going if I'm going to get those documents done. You can catch me up on the way."

Hannibal grinned, broad and all teeth, and plucked the rest of the cigars from Face's hand and tucked them into his jacket, "Alright then, Casanova, let's get going."

Face really hated Hannibal sometimes. He led the way out of there, to the valet, mostly because he couldn't stand the thought of watching the back of Hannibal's grinning head. He went through a mental checklist if the documents he needed to forge to make this deal work. It was just barely enough to put his head back in the job and away from the card in his pocket that he just itched to pull out and look at.

It would have to wait. Charissa would have known he couldn't get away just yet, but he hoped a she could hold on a few more days.