Disclaimer: They are not mine. They belong to Stephen J. Channel and many other people and I'm just playing, not making any money.

Notes: Again written for the a_team_kink. Prompt: Five scars that Hannibal watched Face get and the one scar he could help heal. (Can be physical or metaphorical scars, up to anon. And H/F would be awesome.)

Thanks to my busy bee KJ for the fast beta.

(I want to apologize in advance about mistakes in the soldiers' careers and about the war scenes. And sorry for calling Hannibal "Smith". I like to imagine that he didn't have his nickname in the beginning of their relationship.)

Lets start the story:

When Hannibal watched Face get his first scar, they had been ambushed.

It happened on their fifth mission together. Hannibal remembers it like it was yesterday.

Second Lieutenant Peck, aka Faceman, and the two other young soldiers of his new unit were running in front of him taking cover behind the bushes carefully, just as they were taught, with Major John Smith taking the rear, watching them, giving orders. The intelligence he'd received had told him that this was a safe path, no enemy within miles.

As it turned out, the intelligence was completely wrong.

It was a trap.

Hannibal remembers watching helplessly, when his fellow team members were shot, two of them dead instantly. Shot in the head.

Faceman, who was just one step behind them, pulled back instinctively, but Hannibal had heard him yell and saw him fall anyway.

Spotting the enemies from his position, Major Smith shot them dead before sprinting towards Face, grabbing his collar and dragging him out of harm's way.

The young man's moaning filled the major with relief, telling him that he was still alive. But the endless stream of blood from the recruit's forehead was a very serious matter. Major Smith tore open his first aid kit with his teeth, pressing against the wound with his hand, until he had ripped a bandage from the package and applied it to the wound.

Faceman passed out and his commanding officer carried him to the camp as fast as he could.

Two weeks later, the young soldier greeted him with a grateful smile, eyes twinkling with joy, even though he lay in a drafty army triage tent.

"Hey, kid," Major Smith greeted the only surviving member of his team and they shook hands. "Looks like you are finally doing better." He smiled back, surprised about the summersaults the insides of his stomach seemed to make when he saw Peck grinning at him.

"Yes, Sir." Face felt his courage crumble when the strong hand of the Major held his own. He had to look down, not able to stare back into the charismatic blue eyes when he stammered, "Th…thanks for…for saving my life, Sir."

"Nonsense, kid." His commanding officer let himself fall onto the chair beside Faceman's bed. They were now eye level, "It was my fault. I should have seen them…" he trailed off, feeling absolutely guilty and not sure why he'd admitted his own mistake to a man who had only been in the army a few months. But something in that particular young man got to him.

He just didn't know what back then.

When Hannibal watched Face get his second scar, it was almost exactly three years later.

This time they were alone on a secret mission. Major Smith had requested Lieutenant Peck as his sharp shooter. The young man had grown on him already in the few years they fought together. Without either one wanting to admit it, they had become tight friends. And because Faceman had just recently finished his sniper training, with an outstanding pass rate, Major Smith had decided to practice that out in the field.

They lay low in hiding for almost an hour, watching the enemy's camp. Their orders were to eliminate the leader without any of his fellow soldiers noticing it. So they had to wait.

And wait.

Lieutenant Templeton Peck had earned the Major's respect during many missions already. He lay without moving for the best part of an hour, his weapon at the ready, waiting for his commanding officer to order him to shoot. There were only a few twenty three year old men in the world that could actually make that shot.

Smith allowed himself a sideways glance towards his protégée when the young man suddenly dropped his gun and jumped up and over him. The Major's soldier instinct kicked back in immediately. He turned and saw the kid strangling an enemy soldier with his bare hands and all his strength. The other was holding a knife to the young man's throat and was about to kill him. Face turned them over, still not making any sound, in an attempt to wrestle the knife from the guy, but he got cut anyway.

Smith stabbed the attacker, with one swift stroke through the throat with his own knife, and quickly looked about. If there had been another enemy, he'd have come out by now. So they were alone again, and again Faceman lay bleeding, and it was the Major's fault. But he couldn't think about that in that moment.

The Lieutenant curled into a ball on the ground, pressing his hands against his neck, trying to stifle painful groans.

"Let me see," Smith muttered, quickly untying his neck tie, pressing it against the nasty gash that was cut into Faceman's flesh just above his collar. "Fuck." The Major helped him up, noticing the slender body growing weaker with every movement and going limp after a few steps. And again Major John Smith had to carry this precious young man to the mobile army hospital unit.

De jà vue.

o0o

Face woke, feeling dizzy, the wound in his neck pulsing faintly. Without opening his eyes he was aware that someone was sitting beside his hospital bed, staring at him. Despite his terrible headache he felt a warmth spread through his body and heart and he managed a tiny smile.

He tried to say something but his throat was way too dry, so he just forced his eyes open and looked directly into deeply worried blue eyes.

He saw his commanding officer exhale visibly and was surprised when Major Smith took his hand and whispered, "I am sorry."

Face slowly shock his head and held the hand tight when it was about to pull away.

"Listen, kid..." The officer's voice was actually shaking a little. "If you don't want to serve with me anymore…"

"Nonsense…B…Sir," the Lieutenant croaked, "That wasn't your fault." He paused and thankfully took a sip from the glass of water the Major suddenly held against his lips. "He sneaked up on you and I …" another sip, "just saw it out of the corner of my eye."

He was right, Smith thought, but the enemy could only sneak up on him because he was paying too much attention to Peck and not to the situation. The warrior in him was distracted…again…by the amazing person that was Templeton Peck.

"We have to talk, when you are better, okay?" The Major's voice still sounded somehow out of place.

"No, I beg to differ, Sir." Faceman fixed Smith with a clear stare after managing to squint away his headache for a second. "There is nothing to talk about. I only want to serve with you." Even though speaking hurt, he had to get that straight. Hesitantly he added "Boss," instead of the "Sir," and tried to hold his commanding officer's glance.

They looked at each other for several moments. The Major wondering what it was that tied him to the so much younger man. Maybe he secretly wanted a son like Peck. Maybe the fact he never in his life had a better friend.

But maybe…maybe…his body told him something completely different and dangerously forbidden.

Smith promised himself there and then, that he wouldn't act on that.

Ever.

But that he'd also stay friends with this very special guy as long as his life would last.

"Okay then." He cleared his throat. "Face. Thanks for saving my life."

"Touché." The grin on the younger man's face grew wide and it was very contagious.

Smith grinned back and muttered under his breath, "But I promise you, something like that won't happen again as long as I am your…Boss."

When Hannibal watched Face get his third scar, it wasn't as dramatic as the first two.

In fact, it wasn't dramatic at all. Just a little incident.

It happened a few months after they'd recruited B.A. and Murdock and had become the A-Team.

It happened after he was promoted to Colonel for accomplishing several difficult, successful missions with his tiny team.

It also happened after the three guys had given him his nickname "Hannibal" and he got used to it so quickly, he seldom reacted to his given name anymore, at least not from his guys. They'd become a tight unit very fast and even though his relationship with Face was very special, he had become fond of the other two as well. In fact it was perfect.

Almost.

He was sitting in B.A.'s new van going over some papers, listening to his guys working outside in the big hall. B.A. was explaining how to repair certain things, Murdock throwing silly stuff in now and then, Face calculating the costs.

Suddenly there was laughter and the noise of shuffling feet and Hannibal had to look up.

They were wrestling.

Murdock and Face were taking on B.A. simultaneously, trying to throw him on the ground. He was dancing out of their reach, urging them on, jumping over tools that lay around.

B.A. kept calling them, "You little suckers," throwing pieces of plastic at them. They threw them back, both never missing.

All of them were wearing rolled up BDUs, their upper bodies shirtless, because it was extremely hot.

Hannibal tried to concentrate on his plan again, but the laughter got louder, the chase took place around the whole garage. His eyes kept darting towards Face, even though the other two weren't bad to look at, either.

Face's laughter rang especially loud in his ears, his hoarse, playful, "Baracus, you're a big sucker yourself!" triggered reactions in Hannibal's body he actually didn't want to admit to. He groaned and tried even harder to focus on the papers in front of him.

Suddenly Face leaned into the open door of the van, "Want to join, Boss?" he panted, his eyes twinkling with joy. When Hannibal looked up at him, his cock gave a tremendous twitch and he almost groaned, glad for the folder that was covering his lap.

A sweaty, gasping, shirtless Face, dog tags dangling around his neck, would certainly haunt his dreams now for several weeks.

"Can't," he croaked, "have to…" His throat was so dry, and he almost reached out to stroke the non-military length hair out of Face's eyes. He stopped his hand in mid air, reaching for a pen instead. "…finish this."

Temp gave him an odd little look but then disappeared the next second. Another "bullet" had hit him. When he bent to pick it up, his leg collided with a sharp piece of metal and blood started to trickle down his calf. He didn't even notice, running to help Murdock who lay on the ground, B.A. pinning him down.

'I want to lick that off,' Hannibal caught himself thinking, his eyes following the line of red fluid down his Lieutenant's calf, disappearing into his boot. Hannibal groaned, covering his painfully growing dick with his hand.

The three of them weren't far away. Face bent over to pull Murdock free, fighting off B.A.'s strong hands. And all the Colonel could think of when he saw that was a bent over Templeton, in his bed, the dick of his commanding officer buried into him as far as possible, moaning pleasurably, begging for more.

Without thinking Hannibal closed the door of the van, opened up his belt, put his fists tightly around his aching balls and even more aching cock and jacked off to that precious image. He came within seconds, a moan of "Temp" on his lips.

Just in that moment the door of the van opened again from the outside, slowly. He managed to get the folder up on his lap, hiding the stained, open pants, hopefully.

"Boss, I need…" Face stopped mid sentence, seeing there was something wrong with Hannibal. "Are you okay?" the younger man asked instead, voice worried, almost shocked because of the hungry look he saw in the Colonel's eyes for a split second.

"Y…yes." Hannibal nodded, not able to look at the man who just gave him such vivid fantasies, pretending to read his file carefully. "Close the door again," he managed to say in a commanding voice.

Face obeyed instantly. He had forgotten why he'd interrupted the boss and joined the other two again, very puzzled, shaking his head.

"This is gonna scar, man," Hannibal heard B.A. say as he hastily changed his pants, so glad they always had different clothing in the van for their missions.

Refreshed in clean clothing, and in his manner, the Colonel took a band aid and joined them outside. "What's gonna scar?" he asked innocently looking at B.A.

"Faceman, he scratched his calf." As if Hannibal didn't know-

Face showed him his leg, not liking the both of them fussing over him as though he'd be a little kid.

Hannibal put the plaster onto the small but deep wound.

It would scar.

So that was number three.

And he still wanted to lick the now dry blood away. He let his fingers linger just a tiny bit longer…

When Hannibal watched Face get his fourth and fifth scars, he actually thought they'd both never survive.

Because it hit them simultaneously.

And it was worse than the first time.

They'd both be dead if not for their devoted team mates.

And it really wasn't his fault this time.

They were driving on a safe road, due to their military intelligence. Him and Face in an open Jeep, with B.A. right behind them in the van and Murdock flying above in the chopper. Their mission was clear, and they were right on time.

After years of working together, Hannibal had gotten used to the low drumming in his stomach whenever Face was so close to him. He was now able to dismiss it. It had become a part of his normal condition. Face was straight, of that there was absolutely no doubt. There had been several girls in the beginning, and then there was Sosa for several years until she left him.

Hannibal had decided on the day of the third scar, that he'd rather have Face as his best friend and team mate beside him each day than not at all. The Colonel realised he would never get what he really wanted and lived with that fact.

He knew Temp would give his life for him, so would the other two, and he would do the same for his team mates. But that was how they lived, and Hannibal concentrated on his plans more and more, and after almost ten years the four of them had been working and fighting together, he'd pretty much perfected his technique.

Now and then, though, when he just couldn't take it anymore, he took the edge off by masturbating in some lonely shower, or he'd fuck some rent boy who resembled Face at least a bit.

"We have to turn left in about two hundred meters," Face's voice brought him out of his reverie and he pulled at his cigar sharply. "Yeah, I know." He was just about to radio Murdock, when it happened.

Even though he had stared at the road in front of him the whole time, checking for land mines despite the input of the intelligence, he suddenly noticed a glimmer in the sand in front of them. Face must have seen it too because he yelled, "STOP!" but they were too close already.

The explosion threw them from the Jeep within a second.

There was fire and pain everywhere. His lungs failed to function, blood seeping out of him from several wounds. Hannibal felt himself fading away and his last conscious thought was, Temp…survive…number four…

O0o

He came to in the helicopter. Murdock was piloting off of the ground. Hannibal lay flat on his back in the big chopper, his vision blurry, his head aching like hell and he didn't feel his body at all. His ears were ringing. B.A. knelt above him, slapping his cheek, a very determined, deadly look on his face. All Hannibal could mutter was, "Face?"

B.A. turned his head and that's when the Colonel became aware of the body beside him. His XO was as blood soaked as he felt, obviously unconscious or…

"Not dead…" B.A. ground his teeth together. "I gonna kill those motherfuckers with my own hands, break their necks…"

Through the fog that was his brain, Hannibal fought for words, trying to gesture for B.A. to bend down. The big man was as good as the other two for reading Hannibal's mind and so he did just that, holding his ear to the Colonel's lips.

"Tell him…" He had to use all his strength to get the words out before everything shut off inside him, around him, "…I loved him." Then he passed out, convinced he'd never wake again.

…and the one scar he could help heal

"Can I have a word with you?" Face turned toward the Colonel, touching his arm lightly when Murdock took away the dishes from their odd barbecue in the middle of the army camp. B.A. had already disappeared again towards his new bike.

Hannibal squinted and looked up at his best friend, who slowly stood, taking his drip. "Inside, please?" He gestured with his head towards their tent. "The sun and my head don't cooperate so well right now." The apologetic grin melted Hannibal's bones. For him, that smile was hotter than the sun, especially when it was delivered by a shirtless Face.

He'd watched him and Sosa from afar when they were talking, seeding with jealousy and wondering what she'd wanted after so many years. He'd recognized her immediately.

Now Face wanted a private word.

Hannibal desperately tried to stay calm. It hurt to watch his friend move. His usual grace was missing, and he was biting back the pain when he walked, trying to hide it. But he couldn't hide anything from his watchful commanding officer. They'd known each other for too long.

Hannibal had been in love for too long. Face just didn't know that.

The near-fatal mission, when they'd both got blown up, had happened several weeks ago. Hannibal's wounds weren't as serious as Face's and he'd been cleared for duty for the past week. But he refused to go on any mission with only two members of his team, and Murdock and B.A. agreed with him. And since he had a very special status with Morrison, they got away with it so far.

Suddenly the Colonel got a nagging, awful feeling in his gut.

What if Face wanted to quit?

What if Sosa wanted him back and he just said yes?

What if she'd offered him another job?

What if he was sick of the continuous fighting, sick of the extreme danger?

"Would you please sit down?" Face closed the opening of the tent, even zipping it shut.

Hannibal's stomach felt like it was in his throat. He fell down in the only chair, looking expectantly but not very hopefully at his Lieutenant.

Face lay down on the field bed, slightly grimacing, one arm under his head.

"You're probably wondering what she wanted." Blue eyes locked with blue eyes.

Hannibal smiled slightly, nodding, glad his friend could read him so well.

"She wanted us to not take the mission you probably just got the order for from Morrison…" Face's eyes were gleaming with joy, a tiny grin playing around his lips.

Hannibal had to bite back a grin himself. How did Face know?

Instead he said, "We aren't going on any mission as long as you aren't fit for duty." He cleared his throat, "Unless you…you don't want to go with us anymore." There, it was out.

"I…I what?" Face leaned on one elbow, fixing Hannibal with a confused glare. "Why wouldn't I want to go with you anymore?" he asked almost outraged.

Hannibal felt torn apart with this outburst, glad his assumption about Face quitting was wrong, but also not able to see Face get injured like that again. He said nothing, just waved his hand vaguely at Face's body.

The younger man looked confused at first, and then started to smile. That warm, irresistible smile only his team mates ever got to see. He chuckled, "Oh that?" He pointed to the wounds on his shoulder and stomach. Then grinned, "Number four and five, remember? Nothing to worry about, boss." The broken right wrist would heal and leave no scar.

"Nothing to worry about?" Hannibal stood, started to pace, drew vigorously at his cigar, one hand combing through his hair.

"Hannibal, please would you sit down again?" Face craned his neck, not able to see what the Colonel was doing behind him.

"Listen, Face…"

"No, sit down and listen yourself, please?"

Hannibal was stunned at the utter determination in his XO's voice. So he attempted to sit down again in his chair, words dying in his throat.

But Face patted the bed beside him, his eyes repeating the urgent pleading. Hannibal felt totally awkward, but did it anyway. He couldn't resist those eyes.

Face took a very deep breath, then got a tight hold of Hannibal's wrist and said out of the blue, "I do too, you know," his voice raspy and hoarse and very low.

Hannibal frowned and got even more puzzled, absolutely no clue what Face meant.

"Love you."

The Colonel did a double take. The fingers on his wrist started to loosen and the thumb was stroking his pulse point. Face's eyes had become very soft and his smile unsure.

"Unless you didn't mean…"

Hannibal suddenly remembered his last words to B.A. all those weeks ago. He felt a deep blush flush his cheeks, when he answered lowly, "So he did tell you?"

"Yes, he did." Face felt the corners of his eyes getting moist. "Because it didn't look so good for you during the first days either." Again he had to clear his throat, blinking. "Do you mean it like I think you mean it, boss?" He had turned on his side and his other hand was on Hannibal's back now, stroking gently up and down.

Hannibal arched into the touch, a deep sigh escaping him. "Yes, kid, yes, I think so." He was barely able to get the words out. The look in Face's eyes almost undoing him.

Face leaned up on his elbow, the hand on Hannibal's back slightly pressed him forward. And suddenly, all the Colonel was able to do was stare at those inviting lips which came closer and closer until they met his.

For a moment he thought he was hallucinating, but when a warm, moist tongue begged for entrance into his mouth, he willingly parted his lips and greeted Face's tongue with his own. The sighs that mingled came from the utter depths of their souls and were transformed into the most gentle kiss.

Hannibal's hands started to move too, doing the things he'd wanted to do for ten years. One entangled itself into his friend's too long hair, the other one spread its fingers wide onto the broad, inviting torso. Face groaned and deepened the kiss. Hannibal became more forceful as well, holding Face's head pressed tightly against his mouth. Ten years of longing and love and worrying and joy floated into the kiss.

Pleasurable, demanding, promising.

At some point they had to part, gasping for air.

"All those years?" Face asked hoarsely, his forehead pressed against the Colonel's.

It was hard to nod in that position but Hannibal did it anyway, "From scar number one…"

Face took a very deep, unsteady breath. "And here I thought my feelings for you were only…only…" The Lieutenant couldn't help himself and kissed the older man again vigorously. But his strength left him and he had to break the kiss and lie down again.

Hannibal bent over him, stroking his stubble unashamedly. Not able to say anything.

"I thought I loved you so much because I never had a…a dad." Face had to close his eyes when confessing that. He turned his head and brushed his lips against the Colonel's palm, continuing, "I put down the constant aching of my dick due to lack of women…" He trailed off and looked the Colonel straight in the eyes. He saw the same moisture there that he felt in his own.

"Waste of time, boss?" He asked hesitantly.

"No, Temp, I don't think so. Do you?" Face only shook his head and Hannibal smiled at him openly, took the injured wrist and kissed it. Then bent down and kissed scar number one on Face's forehead, scar number two on the crock of his neck. He brushed his hand over scar number three on Face's calf, which made the younger man chuckle and say, "God damn it, now I know why you looked so out of it back then. Did I interrupt anything?" Face's expression was playful now and he wished he wasn't attached to a drip, and they weren't in the middle of a military camp.

"Yeah, of course you did," Hannibal admitted. "How can one resist a sweaty body like that?" Hannibal had to bite his lip, his cock already responding to the image in front of him again.

"You know kid," Hannibal touched 'going to be scar number four' on Face's shoulder. Face took his hand and laid it on the plaster on the left side of his stomach.

"Five," the younger man interrupted him. "I know half of yours too, you know…" Face's hands stroked over his arm, down the front of his t-shirt. Hannibal stopped it before it got too dangerous. His body already started to get goose flesh all over from the delicate touch.

"About the Dad issue, Temp…" Hannibal started again, "I know there is scar number six there inside of you." He hovered over Face's mouth, lips almost brushing. "I can't be your dad but I want to heal that scar anyway…"

"Be my lover," Face unceremoniously stated and pulled the Colonel down in an even more demanding kiss then before.

And after a while he added breathlessly, "And never stop calling me kid."

Hannibal nodded and smiled when an unbelievable weight left his body and soul.

F I N