Rating: K+

Type: Adventure

Summary: When will Face take Colonel Smith's warnings about honey traps seriously?

Warnings/Content: Contains some violence – well it is the A Team, after all and maybe a couple of 'suspect' words.

Author's Notes: A tribute to the best TV show ever produced (in my humble opinion, obviously!) I have tried to capture the feel and atmosphere of an A Team episode, so there is only superficial violence, very little sex and definitely no SLASH – the boys are all red bloodied heterosexuals here!! I have included many of my favourite bits from the show and tried to weave them together into a new story. The result is, of course, rather Face-centric (but what else would you expect from a self confessed 'Dirk girl'?) but I have tried to involve the other guys as much as possible. The story is set somewhere around Series 3 and 4, so the Boys are at their prime and have yet to be sucked into the world of Stockwell!

Apologies: I fear I have taken the name of Navy SEALs in vain but hey, they are not Green Berets are they, therefore they are fair game. I have also unashamedly reprinted lyrics and characters and asked no one's permission for which I fully expect to be thrown in jail at any minute.

Disclaimer: I do not own the A-Team characters (or any others you may recognize that I have pinched!) and am making no profit from this story, which is a work of fan fiction only.

So enough of the preamble; I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing this……………………

THE MULE KICKS BACK

Part One:

A Bang on the Head

It really would be better if he listened to the Colonel, Templeton Peck thought distractedly. After all Hannibal had been telling him for years he should learn to control his natural appetites, but how could he? If she was pretty and available and giving him the 'come-on' with a sexy smile, Face felt he had a duty to oblige – making people, especially beautiful woman, happy was what he'd been put on this earth for, surely?

Peck sighed. He really should learn to say no, or at least adhere to some sort of risk assessment process before he allowed himself to succumb to the charms of each and every lady who looked at him in that particular way. He knew that he would be the first to complain if any other member of the Team put them in as much danger on such a regular basis as his philandering ways did. But it had become a standing joke with the rest of the Team and even him. Once he saw the look, and it was in the way a girl rolled her eyes at him hungrily, he was going to fall for it – Murdock and BA would snicker indulgently and the Colonel, well the Colonel may well shake his head but in the end he would come through and rescue his errant Lieutenant from whatever situation his red-bloodied libido had gotten him into!

Peck remembered all the times down the years – from the brothels of Saigon through just about every State in the goddamn Union, to this place now – the girl had flicked her yes, the Faceman had answered and the rest of the Team had leapt in, at great risk to themselves, to save him.

Face snorted, wondering if it was going to be the same now and acknowledging that it really was time that he stopped such immature behaviour. Was this latest liaison just one risk too far? He opened his eyes then to see her and instantly forgot his misgivings of a second before. Man; she was so beautiful with long black flowing hair cascading over her dusky shoulders, a wasp-like waist and long, long legs; plus her eyes! Those eyes were dark and limitless and when he looked into them Face could feel his control slipping – oh shit! How was a guy supposed to cope, to walk away from the promise of ecstasy embodied in this lady's beautiful form? Even as he dived on in there, he could hear the Colonel's warning voice but he had ignored it so many times already – why should this time be any different?

Next time, he promised, next time I will listen, Hannibal!

But not this time; this time he was going for it, whispering sweet nothings as he gently ran his hand down her smooth hair in a stroking motion. "Rosa," he whispered as her name ran around his brain – never had a Rosa before!

He would have preferred champagne, satin sheets, the soft tinkle of romantic music, but he would take it in the rather less luxurious surroundings of the small Argentinean village where he found himself at the end of their most recent mission. They had been here for three days, had tracked down the kidnapped son of a rich Spanish industrialist, Senor Jose Gonzales, liberated the kid from the scum balls who were holding him and seen the family reunited earlier that evening – piece of cake!

So now, after the danger and stress of the last few days, Face thought he was entitled to play. The rest of the Team were around somewhere but Face had got kind of absorbed in Rosa and the drink 'fernet' which she had plied him with. She had offered to teach him to tango and Face had to admit he had rarely experienced anything that was quite so sexually stimulating; to have Rosa's pretty body pressed so close and moving beneath him as she directed his own somewhat loose and uncontrolled limbs around the floor – was he really that bad a dancer or was it to do with the copious amounts of alcohol he had drunk? Either way, deep inside of him a delicious desire was awakening and he was willingly slipping under her spell, prepared to face any danger for this chance of paradise.

Apparently unnoticed by the others in the smokey, smelly bar, she danced him out of the cramped cantina and around to the flimsy shack, chased out the chickens and lit a sweet smelling candle before manoevering him towards the blanket on the floor. It smelt of wood, and warmth and wonder. He felt his overwrought senses realing as she began to unbutton his shirt and then preceeded to run those small delicate hands across his chest, still humming sexily deep in her throat the music they had danced to. Face groaned as his ardour ignited into hot flaming passion. There was no going back now, he realised with only a slight sense of doubt, he was hers totally.

This was why he never listened to Hannibal! This was why he ran the risk and would continue to do so as long as he could. Rosa was smiling at him as he kissed her, red rouged lips opening to give him entry, tongues twisting and entwining as they continued the dance. There was, quite frankly, nothing that could compare with the feel, the taste, and the sight of a pretty girl trembling in his arms, waiting for him to take them to places she had never seen before. He was so ready for this, so up for it!

No matter what the colonel ordered, he could not give this up… never… not for all the…..

……. And then it all went black, inexplicably so. The passion that roared through him, and demanded such instant satiation that it tightened all of his sinews with the promise of extreme and ultimate completion, was suddenly extinguished, switched off like a light.

Face let out a slow, weak moan as he slumped backwards on to the faded, old blanket, completely senseless and frighteningly vulnerable.

"Wakey, wakey, little Facey!"

The familiar voice stabbed brightly into the hazy, dim heart of Peck's enforced slumber, forcing him to wake and let go of the blackness of oblivion that he had been clinging to.

"Doctor says you should wake up now." The voice again, soft but probing. "Come on you lazy little…."

"Arrrggggggh!" Peck snorted. It may not have been English but it sure made him feel better. His head was throbbing, he felt sick and the room he was in was so bright, too bright; its immaculate whiteness seemed to burn into the back of his retinas even through his closed lids. He was thirsty and tired and every part of his body hurt. "What… what happened?" he asked in a voice that could gravel a sidewalk. Forcing his eyes open he stared up at the pilot uncertainly.

"What happened?" Murdock parroted.

Face's shaking hand went up to his head which he believed was in danger of being blown from his shoulders by the ferocity of the pilot's raucous voice. "Too loud," he muttered as he swallowed back the bile that was making a rush up his throat.

"Murdock!" Hannibal's voice came from beyond the limits of Face's restricted, watery vision. "Give him some room – he has had a bang on the head!"

"Bang on the….." Face began. "I thought I…."

"What did you think, Facey?" Murdock's face bobbed in front of him animatedly like a buoy in a squall.

Peck rubbed at his eyes in the hope that the act would wipe away the moist mistiness currently encamped around his vision. He sat forward a little but was unable to stop the harsh intake of breath that whooshed into his lungs at the pain of the movement.

"Easy, Face," the pilot's voice was suddenly soothingly sweet and his hands were on Face's shoulders, helping him forwards while puffing up his pillows so he could sit more comfortably.

Face gulped, still unsure whether his stomach's eject button was going to come into action. Murdock moved close again, clasping hold of the other man's hand and stroking it lovingly.

"Murdock!" Face spat moodily as he snatched his hand away. Then he noticed the bandage around Murdock's palm. "What did you do?"

Murdock pouted. "My, my, my, my, you have woken up in a bad mood, Face! It's not my fault you hit your head!" He glanced down at his hand, chuckled self consciously. "I don't really know," he confessed. "Guess you weren't the only one out of it, last night! At least I didn't bang my head."

"Bang my head?" Peck repeated, his features contorting in confusion as he tried to remember what had been happening before… before…… Rosa! The confusion was burnt off by a supercilious smile as he remembered those legs, those eyes and those…..

"Lieutenant!" Smith's voice snapped him back. "What exactly is the last thing you remember?"

Peck gulped. He didn't want to go there, not in the present company but he also knew that Hannibal wasn't about to let him off the hook. Still, he had to try! "Where am I?" he asked weakly, affecting a swoon back into the pillows.

"Village hospital." Murdock replied. "Somebody found you in an alleyway last night, lying in a pool of blood." He shook his head gravely. "Sloppy, Faceman, very sloppy."

The Colonel let out a long sigh. "Who was she, Lieutenant?"

"Who was who?" Face decided to continue with the dumb act.

Hannibal moved into his line of vision, looming behind Murdock, his face set in an uncompromising scowl. "The girl who brought that lecherous smile to your lips just now."

"There was a girl?" Face tried to look as wide eyed and innocent as he could but it hurt; the light was still too bright. He admitted defeat as the Colonel's frown only got graver so he cast his glance towards Murdock, looking for support there.

The pilot shook his head. "No girl."

"So where'd you get the girl from, Colonel?" Peck asked.

"I didn't get a girl from anywhere, Face! But you did, didn't you? There's always a girl with you, so spill, Lieutenant, right now!"

"OK," Peck let out an overly dramatic sigh of defeat. "I admit there was a girl."

"Tut, tut, Faceman never changes!" Murdock chuckled.

Peck threw him a condescending glance as he continued, "Last thing I remember, I was…. well, we were…"

"Templeton Peck don't be so bashful!" Murdock laughed. "I normally can't stop you from reliving each of your conquests in graphic detail."

"Murdock, gentlemen never talk about such things!" Peck argued but Murdock only smiled annoyingly, so he continued, "Any way she was just teaching me to tango."

"Tango!" Murdock guffawed.

"Who was she, Face?" Smith pressed impatiently.

"Rosa," Face replied somewhat sheepishly.

"Rosa?" Murdock repeated. "What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet."

"Rosa, who?" the Colonel ignored Murdock's Shakespearean rambling as the pilot fiddled nervously with his hand bandage.

Face shrugged. "I don't know."

Smith rolled his eyebrows and held the younger man's nervous gaze pressing him resolutely.

Face fidgeted uncomfortably. "She was the maid in the house where we rescued the kid."

"Face!" Smith snorted. "How many times!"

"She wasn't a set up!"

"How do you know?"

"Because…. Because well, I'm still here aren't I?"

At that point a rather rotund nurse entered the room. She immediately began talking in staccato Spanish.

Face felt suddenly very tired and lay back on to the pillows, glad of the respite from the Colonel's interrogation. How many times had he woken up in a hospital bed pretending that everything was just swell? Too many times! He really needed to get his life into some sort of order – out of control was no where near close to an accurate description of the chaos!

He sighed and the nurse beamed at him in a motherly fashion before leaning forward and tweaking his cheek. As she reached across him to puff up his pillows even more, Face sent a pitiful glance towards the Colonel. Hannibal smiled knowingly and moved to put his arm around the nurse.

"Please, the doctor," he said as he manoeuvred her towards the door. "Find the doctor please." He gently thrust her into the corridor.

He turned back to the bed, his compassion gone. "How many times have I warned you, kid? How many times have you done it just the same?"

"But….."

"No, enough already!" Smith had lost his good humour completely. "We've wasted enough time – we need to get home."

Peck pouted. "I may not be fit enough to travel," he whined. "My head hurts!"

Murdock shook his own head and flashed a 'don't-push-it' look at the blond but Face was too lost in his own performance to notice. He closed his eyes and groaned weakly.

"It's not the only thing that will hurt unless you quit it now, Lieutenant," Smith snapped. "I suggest you shut up and try to remember how a night with the tango teacher of your dreams ended up with you in a pool of blood in an alleyway."

Face pouted and opened his mouth to respond but caught the tensing of the Colonel's posture and that, added to his belated perception of Murdock's warning look, made him decide that it was probably not the time to argue at this point.

Instead he gingerly lifted his hand to his head and felt around where the thumping pain seemed to be coming from. He touched the soft bandage and then threw a panicked glance towards Murdock who was still sitting on the bed regarding him with sympathetic eyes.

"My hair?" Face asked tremulously.

The pilot shrugged. "I think they had to shave it to get to the wound and then to…."

"They shaved my hair!" Peck lurched forwards.

"Easy, Face," Murdock leaned forward to gently ease his friend back to the pillow.

"Mirror," Face asked in desperation. "I need to see!"

"No mirrors, Face," the Colonel's voice was authoritative and brooked no argument. "Anyway your wound is all covered with a bandage, you can't see anything!"

"My hair!" Face muttered in despair.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen!"

Peck looked up to see a tall, blond man with the coldest, most lifeless eyes he had ever seen, in a white coat advancing through the door. "I am glad to see you are awake, Mr Peck. I am Dr Karl Brandt; I've been looking after you." His voice was as clinically cold as his eyes, but he held out his hand.

Peck accepted it. "Thank you, doctor," he said. "Can I go now, please?"

Five hours later Face found himself sitting dejectedly on a scheduled flight to California from Buenos Aires that he had managed, bandaged head or not, to scam four places on by flirting admirably with the Check-In girls. He hadn't heard Hannibal finding fault with that little scheme!

Beside him BA Baracus snored contentedly. Face however, was anything but happy; his features were set in a grimace as he worried at his seatbelt with one hand and his bandage with the other.

"Face, you OK?" Murdock asked from the other side of BA.

Peck snorted. "Oh, I'm just great, Murdock," he replied. "Head ache, hair shaved, memory of last night completely gone. I've never been better."

"Good," Murdock retorted sweetly. "Cos I'd hate to think you were blowing this little bitty accident out of all proportion! Just take it as a sign – you weren't born to tango!"

"I'm glad you think it's not important," Peck responded tartily and looked away moodily.

As soon as they had reached the airport he had dashed to the washroom and a mirror to make a thorough investigation of the state of his hair. The face that greeted him was familiar but pale; he didn't particularly like the black circles below his eyes and, rather worryingly, thought he could see a new wrinkle at the side of his nose. He let out a brave sigh laced with anguish and then carefully turned his head to see the place where he had been injured. Not much to see really – a big white marshmallow of bandage stuck to the side of his head; not exactly alluring but he could live with it. He leaned closer to see if he could detect a perimeter of baldness beneath the plaster because the rest of his head was thankfully fully thatched! Much to his relief there didn't seem to be any hint of bareness. Damn Murdock!

Even so after the last few hours, his sense of humour was somewhat lacking and he was still feeling fragile enough to let his temper get the better of him. He figured Murdock was fair game after he was the one who had told him about his supposed baldness, earlier. "Of course," he turned back to regard the pilot icily. "You've been losing your hair for a while now, so a little razor cut here wouldn't matter a damn to you. I, on the other hand, am different! My hair is …. priceless!"

"Losing my hair!" Murdock cried indignantly. "I should have…"

"Enough!" Hannibal hissed from the other side of the plane. He stood up and moved closer now the seat belt signs had flicked off. "Just cos you've got a headache, Face, why the hell are you so intent on giving the rest of us one? You deserve everything you've got, so quit it!"

BA snored softly in agreement.

Peck sat back in his seat and took a deep breath, the Colonel's words ringing in his ears. He was being a fool, even he could see that. "I'm sorry, guys," he said suddenly, changing his mood from arrogant to contrite in a moment. "I shouldn't have done it."

Hannibal nodded. "You put us all at risk, when you gonna learn?"

"He's just a guy who can't say no!" Murdock sang in a high pitched voice, ignoring the disapproving looks of the other passengers.

Peck snorted. "Makes a change from Evita," he muttered. Since they'd landed in Latin American, Murdock had been singing 'Don't Cry for Me, Argentina,' almost constantly and, although BA had threatened him frequently, the pilot had ignored him and simply sung even louder.

Smith smiled and sucked on his unlit cigar. "I could say I told you so, Face, but I've said it before and it doesn't do any good. You see a pretty lady and all the blood rushes away from your head!"

"I know and I'm sorry, Hannibal. It won't happen again."

Hannibal chuckled. "And you say it with such conviction, kid, like you really believe it, don't you?"

"I mean it this time, honestly," Face's eyes were wide.

Smith smiled. "We'll see, kid, we'll see. Luckily enough this time there was no lasting harm done. Apart from your head we got out of there in tact. Now get some rest, you've had a tough couple of days and as this plane is going to Frisco, I need you fit enough to find us transport back to LA."

"A con man's work is never done," Peck muttered cynically. "Even if it does mean chatting up the girl, eh, Colonel?"

"Admit it, Face, you love the challenge!" Smith's eyes twinkled with mischief.

Face snorted. "Like I get a choice!"

"We couldn't do it without you, kid!"

TBC