New A-Slash Archive Entry


You Sleigh Me!: An A-Team Christmas Story

by Elizabeth Kent

Author's Notes: Pat requested some snuggling with Hannibal and Face and an escape from Decker and Crane. And that's just what she got! Enjoy the story, and Merry Christmas to all of you from Elizabeth!

"No. Absolutely not!"

"Oh, c'mon, kid. You're a natural!"

"No. I'm not doing it! Not even for you!"

Hannibal sighed and stroked his palm up and down the green-clad thigh. "You sure? This is your color, baby." He waggled his eyebrows.

Face looked around nervously and glared at the little old lady staring at Hannibal's moving hand. "Quit messing with the mannikin, for God's sake!" he hissed. "People are looking!"

"It's the perfect plan," Hannibal continued. "You dressed as an elf, me as Santa; Decker will never guess it's us."

"Of course he will!" Face shot back. "He pulls on every white beard he sees thinking it's you. He expects you to be in disguise! He'd be more likely to overlook you if you weren't wearing a costume!" Face paused in his rant to reach out and bat Hannibal's hand away from the mannikin's calf. "Will you stop that?!" Hannibal was squeezing that plastic calf in a way that made Face start to hyperventilate.

Hannibal chuckled but obediently put his hand in his jacket pocket. "C'mon, Face, you need to lighten up."

"Lighten up my ass!"

"I'd love to."

Face made a disgusted noise. "Decker's outside pulling on the beards of twenty-five mall Santas, trying to find the imposter, and you think we can just walk out with the same outfits they're wearing and get away with it? Are you nuts?"

"It's lucky for us this costume shop was in the same strip mall as the Santa training center. There are plenty of decoys out there. All we have to do is distract him for a minute. I'll slip into the line where he's already finished his search, and when he tells everyone they can go, I'll just wander off to my Santamobile. Or yours."

"In case you hadn't noticed, Santa doesn't drive a white `vette," Face said. "Decker's already spotted it, and he knows it's mine." He peered nervously between the elf legs, past the row of Santas that Decker's men were patting down, to his car, which was being guarded by another couple of MPs. "It's just my luck to end up in the same strip mall as Decker and Crane! Of all the..."

"Nah," Hannibal interrupted, "it's about time to have a little fun with him, anyway. It's been, what, two months since he last lost us? I don't want him to get out of practice."

"You're crazy, Hannibal," Face said.

"But you love me for it, don't you?" Hannibal said, inching close enough that Face could smell the last cigar on his breath.

"Not at the moment," Face said. "At the moment what I'd love is a quiet afternoon in front of the fireplace with a glass of expensive wine and a good book." He looked pointedly at Hannibal. "Alone."

Hannibal just smiled and picked up a plastic-wrapped version of the elf suit. "Get dressed, Lieutenant."

"Have you not noticed that there are no other elves out there?" Face said. "Not even one? I'll stick out like a sore thumb."

"I'm counting on it," Hannibal said. "Like I said, we need a distraction."

Face's jaw dropped. "Me?" he choked out. "Why does it have to be me?"

Hannibal grinned. "Green just isn't my color, Face."

"The Aquamaniac is green," Face pointed out.

"Yeah," Hannibal said, "but he's not here, and you are."

"They'll get me before I make it to the end of the block," Face said. "You want me to spend Christmas in jail?"

"Santa still has a few surprises up his sleeve," Hannibal said, patting Face's shoulder. "Now be a good little helper and go put on your tights."


"Crane!" Decker snapped, "Did you check out the rest of the Santa trainees inside?" He gestured toward the storefront marked "Santa Academy."

"Yes, sir," Crane said. "There's nobody left."

"How many do we have?"

"I think there are..."

"Hey, Decker! Better watch out! Santa Claus is coming to town!" Decker caught a flash of color out of the corner of his eye as someone darted past. Someone in green tights, black shorts, and a ridiculous green jerkin. Bells jingled as the impeccably-groomed elf darted out of sight around the corner of Santa Academy.

"Peck!" Decker shouted. "Crane, after him!"

As Crane dashed away, Decker paused only a moment to glance back at the row of Santas he'd already searched. They were staring at him with varying degrees of hostility and incredulity.

"Dismissed!" he barked.

The Santas slowly drifted away, some muttering unsaintly deprecations under their breath as Decker detailed a couple of extra men to help guard Peck's car. He knew Peck would eventually come back for it. Beyond the car, parked neatly next to the curb, was Santa's sleigh, fitted out with wheels for the Southern California climate, with eight not-so-tiny reindeer in harness. One of the Santas, a sack slung over his shoulder, strolled to the sleigh, patting the reindeer and offering them some kind of treat from a gloved hand before tossing the bag into the back and mounting the sleigh. "On Dasher, on Dancer, on Donder, on Blitzen!" cried Santa. "On Comet, on Cupid, on Decker, on Crane!"

Decker looked up in surprise as the Santa pulled his beard down just long enough to expose his face. The smirk was familiar.

Hannibal picked up the reins, settled himself on the black leather seat, and yelled "Get up there, Rudolph!" as the restless reindeer took off at a gallop.

"Smith!!" Decker yelled. "Damn you, Smith!" He raised his gun and ran toward the sleigh.

"Hey!" someone yelled, "that nut's gonna shoot that Santa!"

In moments Decker and his men found themselves surrounded by the twenty-five remaining Santas, all of them pelting Decker with the contents of their sacks. Toy trucks, Barbies, Rubik's Cubes, and Cabbage Patch dolls flew through the air, and by the time Decker had extricated himself from the mob, his aim had been ruined by a well-aimed Hacky Sack, and his vision obscured by a pair of neon pink leg warmers that had somehow unrolled themselves across his head. His men, all of them unsure about the longterm ramifications of assaulting any Santa, stood by in confusion while the sleigh careened out of sight around the corner.

* * * * *

Face pelted along, darting around office workers jog-walking on their lunch breaks and self-important businessmen holding court in the middle of the sidewalk, and wished everyone would get the hell out of his way. He kept a sharp lookout over his shoulder, but he was pretty sure he'd outrun Crane, even if these damn pointed elf slippers kept tripping him up. He was going to give Hannibal a piece of his mind, damnit, if he'd only show up. What if he'd been shot? What if his stupid plan hadn't worked, even though his stupid plans almost always worked...sort of...and he'd been captured? Maybe he should go back.

He stopped, turned back, and bent down to rest his hands on his knees and catch his breath while he thought. Sirens wailed behind him, and he knew it was only a matter of time before Decker and his minions drove around the corner. He could only hope Hannibal had somehow gotten the `vette away from the MPs and was far enough ahead of Decker to give them some reasonable expectation of escape. He moved to the curb, feeling all but naked without his gun. There was noplace to hide a weapon in a skin-tight elf suit. He was never, never again going to wear a get-up like this. Not for Hannibal, not for anyone!

"Ho ho ho! Merry Christmas! Where's my elf!" Jog-walkers, businessmen, and a lone elf looked up in surprise as eight reindeer clattered to a stop. "Hurry up, kid! Decker's on his way!"

Years of experience following Hannibal's orders propelled Face head-first into the gaudy, wheeled contraption as the reindeer pawed the ground. Hannibal snapped the reins as the first of the MPs rounded the corner, joined at the intersection by three of LAPD's finest. Hannibal winked and said to the gathering crowd, "Special law enforcement and MP parade for the holidays, folks! Better stand back, though. Stunt drivers coming right up!" The crowd obediently stepped back because after all, who doesn't follow Santa's orders?

* * * *

"Step on it, Crane! They're getting away!"

"Don't worry, sir, there's no way he can get away from us with nothing but a few reindeer."

"This is Hannibal Smith we're talking about, Crane," Decker said with what sounded like grudging admiration. "He's gotten away from us with less than that."

Crane obligingly stomped on the gas pedal even though the sleigh was only just picking up speed after pulling away from the curb. He could see Peck in his elf costume standing behind the driver's seat sifting through bags and struggling to keep his balance, gesturing animatedly while simultaneously waving away a thread of white smoke that drifted back from the driver's seat. Crane almost slowed down when Peck pitched forward, almost somersaulting out the back of the sleigh, but Decker pounded the dashboard and yelled, "Keep going!"

Suddenly something green struck the hood of the car. "Oh, my God, I've hit him!" Crane screamed. Wide blue eyes stared at Decker through the windshield as a green-clad body lodged against the windshield, its jerkin caught in the windshield wipers. Crane slammed on the brakes and screeched to a halt. Behind them the parade of police and MPs slammed on their brakes, too, smashing into each other and effectively blocking off the street from the string of patrols cars bringing up the rear.

Decker jumped out of the car and grabbed the elf around the shoulders.

"Peck, oh, God, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Crane babbled. He grabbed Peck's legs and both of them lifted him off the car. Crane screamed again and fainted as their victim came apart in their arms, leaving each of them holding half an elf. Decker's half-elf seemed to leer at him mockingly as onlookers laughed and cheered.

"Oh, my God!" someone roared, "this is the best Christmas parade I've ever seen!"

Decker started as another elf flew through the air and landed on its back on the car's hood. There was a note pinned to its chest, penned in bright red ink: Rod - Merry Christmas from the A-Team! Decker, sputtering in fury, scanned the rooftops but didn't see anyone. Crane, having regained consciousness, sat on the curb clutching a pair of green legs and muttering something unintelligible.

Decker growled and glared at the merry crowd that now spilled out into the street to congratulate the stunt drivers and further clog up the road. Even if he could rouse Crane out of his stupor and get a car, there was no way he'd be able to get through this throng of onlookers in time to catch up. He threw his half-elf on the ground and stomped away.

* * * * *

Hannibal settled deeper into the comfortable sofa, adjusted the tie on his bathrobe, put his bare feet up on the coffee table, and let the cares of the day drift away the with the smoke rings he puffed into the air. He laughed to himself as he imagined the look on Decker's face when that elf mannikin crashed against his windshield. He felt a little sorry for Crane, who he understood was keeping Murdock company for a little while down at the VA, but maybe he'd emerge from the experience a little wiser and a little smarter than Decker. It wouldn't take much of an improvement to do that, and Murdock's influence would be good for him.

"Hey, kid, what's keeping you?" he said, raising his voice to be heard over the Chritmas carols emanating from the radio.

"I'm getting your Christmas present out!" Face's voice drifted back from the bedroom. "Just keep your shirt on!"

"I'm hoping not to," Hannibal called back.

"I'm hoping not to as well," said Face, leaning over the back of the couch. Bells jingled, and the pointed end of a felt hat brushed against Hannibal's cheek as green arms came around his neck.

"Mmmmm," Hannibal mumured appreciatively. "Not only a good color on you, but a good fabric as well."

"Wait'll you see the bottom half."

"Still connected, I hope," said Hannibal.

"Connected, yes," said Face as he clambered over the back of the couch and straddled Hannibal's lap.

"Where are your shorts?"

"Must have lost them in all the excitement," Face said. The green tights hugged his curves, and Hannibal ground out his cigar in a nearby ashtray then let his hands stray over the firm muscles of Face's calves, squeezing, stroking, and making his elf moan. The tights did nothing at all to hide Face's growing interest as he ground himself against Hannibal's lap. "How about if my bottom half connects with your bottom half, Santa?" Face whispered against Hannibal's neck between kisses and gentle nips.

"Shouldn't I be out delivering presents to good little boys?" Hannibal whispered back. His hands ghosted up Face's thighs to his backside, splaying out and urging Face closer.

"I think you have to deliver to the naughty ones first," Face said.

"Have you been naughty, little boy?"

"Oh, yes," Face said, drawing Hannibal into a long, leisurely kiss. He leaned his forehead against Hannibal's, and the bell on his cap jingled merrily against Hannibal's ear. "And I expect to only get naughtier."

Hannibal pullled his feet up and lay on the couch, pulling Face with him. Face worked at the tie on the robe while Hannibal undid the snaps holding the elf jerkin in place. As the shirt opened, he stroked his hand up bare skin to lay it against Face's warm chest. He could feel his lover's heart beating steadily, its rapid tattoo as much a reassurance of life as of love. He never liked to use Face as a decoy, never liked to leave him on his own with someone after him, but the kid could take care of himself. He always could. But that didn't mean Hannibal didn't worry. But worry inevitably led to relief, at least most of the time, and relief sex was even better than the rare instances of make-up sex they engaged in. As his fingers reached for the waistband of the tights, Hannibal made a vow to have relief sex as often as possible, and to learn to feel relieved even when he didn't send Face out into danger.

"I think all those good children may have quite a wait ahead of them," Hannibal said as Face wriggled against him and squirmed out of the tights.

"I'm sure someone out there must be taking care of all the good people," Face said, producing a little tube of lubricant from somewhere in the depths of the couch cushions. "Even us bad boys need a little love from Santa, right?"

"Right," Hannibal said. "And what a relief it is!"

As the two of them moved together, their laughter and lovemaking drowned out the muffled jingle of the bells on their stockings as a jolly old elf in red stuffed them full of chocolate, ammo clips, and Cuban cigars. "Merry Christmas to all," whispered the old fellow as he laid a finger alongside his nose and rose up through the chimney to his waiting team. "And to all a good night!"

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