Author’s Note: This story takes place sometime during season 2 of the show The A-Team.
Disclaimer: I don’t own any of these characters, and I’m not making any money from this story.
Warning: Non-consensual spanking of an adult.
“Good scam, Kid!” Face congratulated Amy with a quick side hug. She was getting really good at this, although he had to admit that carrying her over the threshold (and then standing there holding her for way longer than he wanted to!) was a bit more demanding than he had hoped. For a little thing, she sure was solid.
“Thanks! You know, I’m really starting to enjoy this.” She smiled happily.
“Yeah, well don’t get carried away. We’ve got a lot more work to do before this case is in the bag.” With a nod, she turned to her next task, and so did he.
# # #
“Stay in the van!” Face shouted, as he turned to race into the building.
“Stay in the van, hell!” she muttered, slamming open the door and exiting before he even crossed the threshold. “I’ve been working with you guys long enough now, I can do my part!” She was out of the vehicle and into the building in a flash. Cautiously she slid down the hallway, listening at the doors. She heard Hannibal’s voice, and pasted herself against the wall, straining to catch what he was saying. Before she could really figure it out, all hell broke loose. Bodies came barreling out of the room, bullets were flying, shouting, screaming….she dove for the floor and stayed there, cringing as at least one figure went hurtling over her and chunks of plaster dislodged by profuse bullets showered down upon her.
“Face! Get Amy out of here!” She heard that clearly enough; Hannibal sounded thoroughly pissed. And that was nothing compared to the expression on Face’s countenance as he grabbed her hand and hauled her up from the floor.
“I thought I told you to stay in the van!” He shouted, pulling her down the hallway with one hand while firing his AK-47 with the other. She would have liked to cover her ears with her hands, but they were moving far too quickly for that, and anyway she was a member of the A-Team, not some delicate little girl.
He dragged her all the way out of the building, fuming. Foolish girl, unable to follow orders. Hannibal had drilled that into the team early on; when you’re given an order, you follow it, no questions asked. Apparently he hadn’t impressed the importance of that on Amy. Yet.
From the relative safety of the van, they heard the cacophony of noise die out abruptly, and predictably Hannibal, B.A., and Murdock emerged safe and sound, although warily checking all around for stragglers, and jumped into the van with B.A. as usual in the driver’s seat.
“Go, B.A.” Hannibal barked, before turning to look in the back and directing his glare at Amy. “Just what did you think you were doing, young lady?” He asked, in a voice that made it clear it was not really a question.
“Now, Hannibal, don’t get all bent out of shape! I’m a member of this team now, you said so yourself! And that means I’m part of things, not left behind in the van like some little kid that needs protecting!” She protested.
“You listen to me, lady,” Hannibal growled. “Being part of this team means listening to orders and following them, not going off half-cocked and making yourself a liability rather than an asset. Face said he told you to stay in the van, and there was a reason for that. You chose to disobey. So when we get back to the house, Face is gonna deal with that. Right?” He stared meaningfully at Peck.
“Wait, uh, ME, Hannibal?” Face queried rather anxiously. He was still pissed as hell, but figured that the Colonel was going to deal with it, not delegate the problem to him.
“Yes, you. You gave the order, you were the one she disobeyed. You get to deal with it.” Hannibal spoke firmly and then turned back to survey the road, leaving Face to confront the situation by himself. Face looked at Amy, who was staring at him apprehensively, then at the most unhelpful back of Hannibal’s head, then back at Amy.
“Huh. Well…OK then.” He dragged his gaze away from her and focused on the back of Hannibal’s seat. He had the rest of the trip home to figure out…just how he was going to “deal with it”.
By the time they arrived, he still didn’t have a clue. B.A. parked the van, and they all exited, Hannibal in the lead, making their way inside somewhat wearily. Murdock flopped down on the couch, muttering into his pocket, and B.A. headed for the refrigerator and a gallon or two of milk, his usual restorative.
Hannibal stood there, staring at Face and Amy.
“Lieutenant. There’s a disciplinary matter to attend to here.” He said finally.
“Uh…yeah, but Hannibal you’re the senior officer, don’t you think you should…”
“Lieutenant!” Hannibal barked with a glare, and that was all it took. With a sigh, Face squared his shoulders, grabbed Amy’s hand, and began towing her after him towards the bedroom.
“Wait a minute!” she protested, struggling. “Maybe I *should* have done what you said, but that doesn’t give you the right to act like some Neanderthal and….”
“Hold it!” Hannibal snapped, and Face stopped so quickly Amy almost fell over him. He grabbed her waist to steady her and held her upright for a second.
“Miss Allen, do you want to be part of this team or not?” Hannibal asked sternly.
“Of course I do, Hannibal, you know that, but…”
“No buts. If you want to belong, you follow the same rules everyone else does. And that definitely means following orders.” His eyes flicked to Face. “Proceed.”
Face nodded once, then tugged Amy, mostly unresisting, into the room after him and slammed the door behind them. B.A. looked at Hannibal, worried.
“Hannibal, you think he can do this right?”
Hannibal gazed back at him steadily. “I hope so.” He pulled out a cigar and lit it casually, refusing to show just how concerned he was. B.A. chose the safe route.
“I’m goin’ down to the garage to give the van a tune-up.” He practically ran out the door. Murdock sighed, still talking to his pocket.
“You and me, guy. Faceman, he’s got a conundrum here. What to do , what to do. Whaddya think? “ He paused, listening to the empty pocket. “Yeah, me too. Let’s get some grub.” He headed for the kitchen, leaving Hannibal to smoke his cigar and listen with some concern to what might be happening behind the closed door.
Behind the closed door: Face had spent a good deal of time reliving the scene above, complete with bullets, bad guys, and one very vulnerable Amy Allen. It was enough to rekindle his anger.
“So, Missy, just what DID you think you were doing? And why? And…don’t even bother to answer, it won’t make any difference.”
Amy swallowed nervously; Face actually looked really pissed. She decided maybe keeping her mouth shut was the best option. Only it didn’t stay that way long. Face again grabbed her hand and pulled her none too gently over to the bed, dropping down onto it and yanking her…oh, God this couldn’t be happening…over his lap.
“FACE! Wait, you can’t…I don’t…you wouldn’t!”
“I can,” he brought his hand down on the seat of her jeans, “you will,” she yelped as his hand came crashing down again; who would have thought there was so much strength behind that dandified exterior?, “and I would!”
He spanked hard and fast, not allowing her a chance to catch her breath, or protest, or…well, she did try to squirm free but THAT was totally useless…and his hand was solid and strong, and his arm was muscled and tireless, and it wasn’t long before she had given up all hope of breaking free, or coaxing him to stop. Each powerful wallop left her breathless, and soon she was gasping for air, and loosing unrestrained tears which made it impossible for her to even continue pleading for mercy. Although it had become painfully obvious that mercy was not going to be a part of this.
“Hannibal was right.” Face ground out between swats. “I gave you an order; you ignored it. We don’t do that just for fun, you know. There’s a REASON behind those orders!” He landed a particularly hard smack on her right thigh. “We have a PLAN when we go in.” The last swat was matched with an even harder one on the left. “And we all…” he paused, delivering a series of blistering smacks, “ALL have to follow the plan. And follow orders!” He stopped lecturing at that point, and simply concentrated on the matter at hand. Amy was sobbing hard by now, kicking helplessly, clutching at his pant legs, trying desperately to twist away from that awful punishing hand. Not happening.
In the next room, Hannibal and Murdock were listening, although Murdock had pretended not to up until now. Now, he was starting to get worried. This had gone on for a long time.
“Hannibal,” he asked, with a suddenly very sane look in his eyes, “Faceman’s not going too far, is he?” Worry and sympathy were rife in his voice.
Hannibal shook his head slowly. “Not yet. Don’t worry, I’m keeping an eye on it.”
Murdock nodded somewhat dubiously, but he didn’t go back to talking to his pocket, and Hannibal focused even more closely on the closed door. Much to his relief, just then the staccato slapping sounds stopped, and a little of the tension left his shoulders.
Face just sat there, Amy draped sobbing over his knees, for a very long moment before pulling her up onto his lap. He relaxed visibly when she wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him, still crying but much less frantically.
“OK, Kitten, you’re alright now…” he murmured soothingly into her ear, and slowly the tears eased and she leaned against him limply, one hand clutching his shirt and her body still trembling with the aftershocks. Eventually she looked up at him, eyes red and puffy, face streaked with tears, lower lip trembling.
“That…that was horrible.” She sniffled pathetically. “You are an awful person.” That statement lost most of its sting since she was still clinging to him tightly.
“Yeah, probably.” Face smiled slightly and stroked her hair, gently pushing a strand back from her face. “But next time you’ll follow orders, right?”
She buried her face in his chest, nodding slightly. “Is this how you guys treat any member of the team who doesn’t follow orders?” she sniffled
This time Face grinned. “Not exactly. Only the ones we love like a little sister.”
She snuggled in next to him, and he rested his chin on her head, rocking slightly back and forth. Hannibal had long finished his cigar, and Murdock was again talking to his pocket, before they emerged, holding hands.
“Are we good?” Hannibal asked quietly, and smiled a fond paternal smile as Face and Amy shared a glance, then turned to him to nod in unison. “Good.”