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“God damn it, Face!” Hannibal shouted as the soft delicate scent of open meadows and eucalyptus filled his nose.

He wanted to crush the plastic bottle in his hands and watch the white globs of shampoo pulse out of its plastic container as it bled into the drain below but he knew Face would bitch if he found his expensive hair product missing and there was only so much you could get away with pinning on Murdock. So he reluctantly closed the lid and set the bottle down as he washed the thick lather from his hair.

He never understood how something that smelled so good on Face, could leave him smelling like a matronly aunt who had been attacked by a crazed perfume sale lady.

Despite his eyes filled with suds, he opened them to try to find his plain unscented shampoo which he purchased at the drug store because it was on sale and right next to the cash register. He cursed his lover again, as he tried to spot the small unassuming bottle overwhelmed and hidden among the vast array of personal hygiene products that his lover had crammed in every nook and cranny.

He hated the way the kid had taken over his shower.

And it wasn’t just in the shower, it was everywhere in the bathroom; shampoo, conditioner, hair gel, hair serum, styling stuff, etc. The number of hair products was overwhelming until compared to the skin care items which took up the bulk of the bathroom space. He couldn’t turn around in the room without knocking four or five of them over.

He knew Face used his good looks and sex appeal to help finagle the supplies they used on missions and cons but to see all of this stuff would make you think the kid was a hideous beast that built a plastic veneer mask every morning that would melt under a 100 watt bulb.

Which brought him to the second thing he hated about Templeton Peck, the way he hogged the bathroom.

If you were to poll the entire team and ask them what was on the top of their wish list for any scammed safe house or temporary headquarters, it would be individual bathrooms. If four bathrooms weren’t available then they preferred to have a minimum of three. He didn’t want to be dictatorial but rank had its privileges and one of those privileges should be not having to wait forever while Face went through his beauty care regime.

But as BA had so articulately explained ‘If he could have Face in the shower then he could have Face in the bathroom’. Ever since he had to ensure that he woke up early enough to get into it first or he’d find himself standing outside of BA’s and Murdock bathroom clutching his razor and bar of ‘Irish Spring’. And he would still be done before the kid was finished moisturizing.

Hannibal shook his head as he walked back into the bedroom. When he thought back to how delectable Face looked when he just woke up with those sleepy bedroom eyes, all of those products were just gilding the lily.

He opened the drawer to pull out a clean pair of underwear and cursed at all of the sweaters neatly folded and packed away.

He hated the way the ‘Facecreep’ had slowly grown from a fair division of fifty-fifty to him with one small drawer, a box under the bed, and four inches of closet space which he suspected the kid had plans for.

Well, Face wasn’t getting it. He would fight to his last breath for those last four inches. It wasn’t going to be like all the other times when they would be in an intimate moment and the kid would be doing all those fantastic things which only he seemed to be able to do with his tongue when he would mumble something quietly while hitting all the erogenous zones and then look at him with those wanton eyes and ask if he agreed.


Hannibal grumbled to himself. Who was he kidding? When Face asked for something at that moment, in that sexy tone of voice with those beautiful eyes staring at him expectantly; he’d agree and find he had negotiated his way down to an old suitcase kept in the downstairs closet that the kid was eyeing as just the place to hang his new suede jacket.

He hated the way Face had him wrapped around his little finger.

He finally pulled a few wrinkled articles of clothing out of the paltry space allotted to him by ‘Beau Peck’, got dressed and headed down for breakfast.

He just reached the door of the kitchen when he heard the commotion inside.

“What the hell kind of joke is this?” BA growled from inside the room.

“It’s not my fault,” Murdock claimed with a note of panic in his voice. Hannibal hoped the corporal’s hands weren’t around the pilot’s throat. He hated having to deal with homicidal assault before his first cup of coffee.

“Gentlemen, it’s too early in the morning for this,” Hannibal growled as he swung the door open and made his way to the table. “Breakfast and coffee first.”

BA glared at him as he folded his massive arms around his chest while Murdock fidgeted nervously as he turned back to the frying pan on the stove. Neither of them seemed to be in the mood for conversation which was fine with him.

“Here you go, Colonel,” Murdock mumbled as he scurried to his seat where a large bowl of cereal awaited him.

‘Murdock, is there any reason you’ve put a couple pieces of fried toilet paper in front of me?”

“I promised the big guy that I’d make french toast this morning.”

“Was there any reason why you decided to stomp on them?” Hannibal asked as he felt a headache coming on. The captain’s French toast was usually a breakfast fit for a king made with the right amount of cinnamon, nutmeg and Texas sized slices of bread.

“I didn’t step on them,” Murdock said indignantly. “It was Face’s turn to go grocery shopping.”

The pounding in Hannibal’s head got worse; he hated it when it was Face’s turn to get the groceries.

“And what is the rule we have about Face being in charge of the grocery shopping?”

“That someone is to go with him and make sure he sticks to the list,” Murdock recited the memorized by-law of the team.

“So what happened?”

“He was real persuasive,” Murdock explained. “He was talking about the amount of carbohydrates and calories in each slice of white bread and how much healthier the multi-grained ultra-thin slices of bread are for us, especially when winter is coming and we’ll start storing our body fats.”

“The only stored body fat at this table is between your two ears,” BA grumbled. “I was expecting breakfast, not something the cat sat on.”

Hannibal bit back another curse. The only thing he hated worse than Face grocery shopping was Face grocery shopping when he was on a health kick. He knew that refrigerator would be filled with enough fruits and vegetables to sustain a herd of rabid rabbits but no good bread or meat with a speck of fat on it.

His eyes turned dangerously dark as a swallowed a bit of coffee with his curse.

“Murdock, why does my coffee taste like raspberries?”

“Yeah,” Murdock said hesitantly, “Face said he discovered a new brand and we’d all love it so he stocked up on it and made a pot before he left this morning.”

Hannibal put the cup down. He hated the designer coffees that Face insisted on drinking.

“Sooo,” Murdock asked as he looked everywhere except for the killer glare that the colonel was throwing at him. “Where is Facey this morning?”

“He met a couple of producers at the cast party last night and went out for a power breakfast,” Hannibal said as he forced himself not to spit out the last words. He hated waking up to an empty bed.

“Ohhh,” said Murdock, “that’s why you’re so grumpy this morning.”

“I’m not grumpy,” Hannibal snapped. “I just don’t think that it’s too much to ask for a man to have a little bathroom space and closet space and a real cup of coffee and a piece of French toast that hasn’t been flattened with a rolling pin first thing in the morning.”

“Nooo,” said Murdock with a slight grin, “definitely not grumpy. Do you want me to run to the store and get a loaf of bread?”

“And some real coffee!” Hannibal grumbled as he scowled at his cup which was an insult to Columbian beans.

“Okay,” BA said as he pulled the van keys from his pocket. “Let’s go, crazy. Oh. Boss”


“You’re hair smells really purdy,”

Hannibal hurled a slice of the fried tissue paper at the two men as they laughed their way out of the kitchen.

He hated that they were right. He was in a bad mood and it was Face’s fault.

He had been in a great mood the night before. He had just finished filming his latest movie, ‘The Monster of Crane Bay’ and there was a large cast party. It was well attended by a lot of people in the business. Face accompanied him as his agent.

He hated the special way Face lit up in places like this. It was the kid’s element; crowds of beautiful people wearing the latest designer clothes sniffing around each other looking for the next big thing or their next big deal.

Face, as always, was dressed to the nines. He wore a light blue and a cream colored suit with tight pants which clung tantalizingly close to the strong tight muscles of his buttocks. He had wanted to ravage him in the car on the way to the party but Face swatted his hands away and reminded him that he had to look his best if he was going to land him a role in a new production.

He hated the way Face could see right through him.


Maybe he did want to take an opportunity to mark the kid before he set him lose in the pond of barracudas. Something to let all those hot shot leading men and old farts with too much money and too little dick to know this particular good looking blonde was taken.

He barely saw the kid once they got inside the doors. A gaggle of starlets spotted him and pulled him toward their group. After that he was forced to wander around the room making small talk as he watched the kid work the room, talking to and touching everybody he came in contact with.

Was there anyone in this town that he didn’t know or who wanted to know him?

Not that he was lonely, he was one of the stars of the movie and had been in the business for years, plus there were a lot of people wanted more information on his handsome agent like where he was from, was he taking new clients, did he swing both ways.

He hated the easy way that Face made people want him.

It wasn’t that the kid ignored him all night. Hannibal remembered how he had been talking with Doreen Rivera, one of the producers of Atom Bomb Productions, when he felt a familiar arm drape around his shoulder.

It was Face, handing out his fake business card, telling Doreen about what a hot commodity his client was, and how there were several producers interested in using him in their next film. Hannibal could tell that Doreen was intrigued. By the time she left, she promised to call the kid up to discuss casting for her new sci-fi flick.

He was about to sarcastically thank Face for managing to pull himself away to spend a minute with the one that brought him to the party when he felt the kid’s warm breath tickle his ear as Face complained how he couldn’t leave him alone for a minute without having to worry about beating back the admirers that he attracted.


Hannibal blushed at the memory. He hated the way Face could turn the situation around and make him feel like he was the one who should be apologizing. He didn’t see the kid again until the end of the evening when he came back flush with excitement explaining how he had an early morning meeting for chance at landing his favorite and only client another lead role.

Hannibal warned Face that his meeting was with two of the biggest lechers that Los Angles ever spit out. But Face just laughed at him and said that if he be sent in against crime lords then he should be more than capable of handling two old men with too many hands.

He hated that cocky ‘I can do anything’ attitude which so often led him to getting in over his head.

As he added another item to the lengthening list of Templeton Peck’s faults, he heard the kid’s too flashy Corvette pull into the driveway. He hoped the kid had a good time at his ‘power breakfast’ because he was thinking it was time to schedule some training exercises with a nice long session on the obstacle course.

He was about to say something when he found himself with an armful of Face and a pair of delectable lips mashed against his.

“Good morning, Mr. Creature from the Depths of Hell,” Face laughed as he came up for air.

“Corman?” Hannibal asked amazed. “You got me the part in a Roger Corman Production.”

“No, handsome,” Face said as he littered light kisses against the older man’s jawline. “You did it with all your intense but subtle performances as a teen chomping monster.”

“I like to think I bring something special to the table.”


“Speaking of tables,” Face said with a glint in his eye. “Where are the guys?”

“They went to the grocery store.”

“I got the groceries yesterday.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Hannibal said as he shoved the forgotten fried tissue paper aside. “The important thing is that they should be gone for an hour or two.”

“So what are we waiting for, Face said as he lay down on the table and pulled Hannibal down to him. “I missed you this morning.”

“God, I love him,” thought Hannibal as he looked down at the beautiful glorious creature beneath him. “I love every inch of his body, every devious thought in his head, and every roguish bone in his body.”

The kid’s hands were already working on loosen his pants as his mouth continued its attack on every sensitive spot of his older lover’s neck.

Hannibal brought his hands up to Face’s shoulder and pushed him gently atop the table.

“Did you just say something about needing more closet space?”

The End