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This page last viewed: 2017-04-27 and has been viewed 1371 times

Credit

Author: Junkfoodmonkey

 

Rating: PG

Summary: Face helps BA out with some Christmas preparations.

Disclaimer: I don't own the A-Team. I don't make any money from this.

 

 

Credit

BA heard a crash from behind the van and some muffled cursing. He walked around to find a cut fir tree lying on the ground, with a pair of arms and legs waving around from underneath it.

 

"What are you doing?"

 

Face's irritated voice sounded from underneath the tree.

 

"What do you think I'm doing? I'm being crushed to death by this damn Christmas tree!"

 

BA lifted the tree and Face fought his way out from under it, muttering darkly.

 

"Careful!" BA warned, "You're damaging it!"

 

"Consider that payback on behalf of my shirt."

 

BA stood the tree on end. It towered well above the heads of both men.

 

"I think there's been a mix up," Face said, "isn't this the tree that's supposed to be delivered to Times Square?"

 

"It's only ten feet," BA said. "Let's go. Grab the end."

 

The two of them struggled into BA's youth centre, being poked and pricked by the tree and leaving a trail of pine needles behind them. Several stacks of tree decorations in battered cardboard cartons sat waiting for them.

 

"There's more decorations in the van," BA said.

 

"Oh good," Face glanced at the miles of tinsel and overflowing boxes of baubles. "I was so worried we didn't have enough."

 

BA glared at him. "We should put the lights on first."

 

"No, we should test the lights first, because I'm not going through that again." He grimaced. "Checking every damn bulb."

 

"That's a quarter."

 

Face frowned, baffled. "What?"

 

BA nodded at a wooden box padlocked to a pipe.

 

"You swear, then you gotta put a quarter in the box, thems the rules."

 

"BA, it's six a.m., something we're going to talk about later, by the way. All the little, bra... darlings are tucked up in bed. What the hell does it matter if I swear?"

 

"That's fifty cents."

 

Face scowled back at him, but walked over to the box and, still glaring at BA, dropped two quarters from his pocket into the slot in the box lid. He made a point of shoving them in hard so they rattled onto other coins inside.

 

"Right," BA said, looking satisfied. "Let's do it. I want this set up 'fore any of the kids come in."

 

"So, what time will that be?" Face asked, kneeling by a box and pulling out strings of tinsel. "Three p.m.? After school?"

 

BA snorted. "Try seven a.m."

 

Face froze and stared at BA who shrugged.

 

"Some of 'em comes in before school. Some of 'em don't get a proper breakfast at home every day."

 

"So," Face said slowly, "what you're saying is, that just the two of us have to erect and decorate a ten foot Christmas tree in an hour?"

 

BA nodded. Of course, they'd achieved miraculous feats in less than that time in the past. But usually under the threat of death.

 

Face stood up and walked to the swear box. He took out his wallet, extracted a ten dollar bill and slowly, making a show of it, he fed the bill into the slot.

 

"What's that for?" BA asked.

 

Face smiled grimly at him.

 

"Credit."

 

 

end

 


Credit by Junkfoodmonkey

 

 


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