Disclaimer: I do not own the A-Team or its members, and I am making no (monetary) profit from this story. Thanks so much for reading!
Hannibal smirked as he caught a glimpse of Face's expression. Sure, Face had complained, whined and in general expressed extreme disapproval when they were strapping the equipment onto him, but they had all known that his grouching was just for show. It would spoil his image, after all, if the polished, elegant Faceman – still in a tux, no less – let on that he actually enjoyed using such a crude weapon. But once he was in action, rounding up the bad guys, Face forgot to keep up the act, and Hannibal noticed Murdock and BA exchanging amused glances as they reloaded their guns and moved forward to back up their teammate – not that Face really needed their help, but Hannibal didn't feel like standing around watching the crooks cower against the wall until the cops showed up.
"All right, Face, let us past and we'll tie them up," Hannibal said, approaching his Lieutenant cautiously.
Face turned to them with a wide grin and sparkling eyes, then remembered himself and scowled. "Can't you get this thing off me first, Hannibal? Do you have any idea how heavy it is? And look at all these wrinkles in my suit – what will my tailor say?"
Just then one of the bad guys tried to make a break for it and Face whirled, aiming his weapon and shooting out a ten-foot wall of flame in front of the man. The crook yelped and scrambled back to join his companions.
Face looked over his shoulder at Hannibal, trying with limited success to mask his grin. "On the other hand, maybe I should keep it on a little longer, you know, just in case one of them tries something."
"Uh-uh, no way," Hannibal said firmly. "You've had enough fun for one day, Face. BA, take it away from him. Murdock, you help me tie these scumballs up. They'll make a nice birthday present for Sheriff Whitby."
While he and Murdock worked, Hannibal kept half an eye on his other two men. He noticed with relief that BA closed the valve on the tank that Face wore before he did anything else. It took a couple minutes to unstrap Face and lower the tank carefully to the ground. Face rotated his shoulders a few times to work out the kinks and straightened his tie, meandering casually toward the van – though the effect was spoiled a bit as he cast one final, regretful glance toward his abandoned weapon.
Hearing approaching sirens, the others trotted to catch up and moments later they were on the road out of town, their job done.
Face leaned forward. "Hannibal, I've been thinking," he said delicately. "As ugly and awkward a weapon as that is, it's really very effective. What do you say we build a flamethrower to keep in the van all the time? It could be a very handy addition to our arsenal."
Glancing at BA and Murdock, Hannibal replied innocently, "Why, Face, I thought you said you didn't like wearing a fuel tank on your back, or blasting sheets of flame at people? In fact, as I recall, you said that it was undignified for a man of your talents."
"Well," Face hedged, "it's not exactly elegant, but you have to admit that it does lend a certain, uh, persuasive power to one's attack."
Hannibal grinned widely, his cigar clamped firmly between his teeth. "What do you say, BA?" he asked. "Will you make Face a flamethrower for his very own?"
"Ain't keeping no flamethrower in my van," BA barked out. "We get shot at too much." He glanced backward; seeing Face's shoulders droop in disappointment, he let one of his rare smiles replace his customary scowl. "But don't worry, Faceman – whenever we're stuck somewhere with the right supplies, I'll build one for you."
"Ooh, can I have one too?" Murdock demanded. "Colonel, it wouldn't be fair if Face got one and I didn't!"
Hannibal reached back and Face automatically placed a lighter in his hand. "We'll see, Captain, we'll see." He lit his cigar and passed the lighter back, puffing contentedly.
"I ain't building no flamethrower for the crazy fool, Hannibal!" BA said. "He'd catch us all on fire!"
"I would not!" Murdock protested. "I'll have you know that I received a commendation from my Boy Scout troop leader for keeping my campfire under total control. In fact, there was one time…"
"Shut up, Sucker! Campfires ain't even close to flamethrowers!"
Hannibal picked his newspaper up and tuned Murdock and BA out, knowing from long experience that the argument would probably last them all the way back to Los Angeles. After a few minutes, though, a curious repetitive noise caught his attention and he twisted around to see Face fiddling with the lighter – lighting it and then staring at the little flame with a small smile on his face.
Hannibal shook his head and went back to his newspaper. Face always turned into a bit of a pyromaniac after they let him play with a flamethrower, but he'd be back to normal in a day or two.
He sank further into his seat and turned to the next page of his newspaper, quite content – they had successfully completed their job, Face had had fun with a flamethrower, BA and Murdock were arguing and he had a good cigar. He just loved it when a plan came together!