This was prompted by The-Time-Travelling-Hippie. It was written with the TV series characters in mind, but I pulled them forward in time a bit, mainly evident by the song I referenced.

Drunk and Disorderly

Face groaned miserably as sunlight pierced his eyelids and stabbed him in his already pounding brain. An answering moan sounded from somewhere to his left, and he reluctantly opened his eyes to see if whomever that was had seen the bus that had obviously run them both over.

"Ugh…." If the light had been painful through his eyelids, it was downright torturous to his blue eyes. Squinting from the pain, he could fuzzily make out Murdock on the floor next to the motel bed he was laying on. They both were fully clothed, which was a small blessing since there were no girls with them.

He was too old to have to worry about a drunken homosexual experiment with his best friend, as far as he was concerned.

Temp was about to call out to his companion when the pilot suddenly shot up and stumbled toward the bathroom door. Sounds of H.M. tossing his cookies met his ears, and was not helping to keep down his own rising nausea. As he battled his queasiness, Face racked his brain in an attempt to discern what the hell the two of them had done. The last thing he remembered was he and Murdock choosing to spend a night on the town in celebration of surviving the large-paying Seattle job they'd just completed.

Murdock had nearly bought it when his helicopter was shot down, and Face narrowly escaped being turned into swiss cheese as he sprinted toward where he'd seen the fiery chopper crash. A bullet had actually grazed his temple, the cut a constant reminder to him how close he'd come to death. The adrenaline had kept them going until the end of the job, but when that gave out they both had decided to go out and have fun.

Face recalled them agreeing on a nice looking night club up the street from their latest scammed headquarters, but everything after that drew a blank. Perhaps Murdock could fill him in on what happened after.

Speaking of the lanky pilot, Templeton noticed that the sounds coming from the bathroom had ceased. Face found Murdock still kneeling on the cold floor with his head resting on the toilet rim. It took a little maneuvering, but the conman finally helped his friend get cleaned up and sat at the hotel room's only table. He wondered why they had decided to rent a room rather than go back to their HQ, but figured that if they had they would have had to endure Hannibal's evil and twisted sense of humor when it came to his hung over men.

Face never did find out where Hannibal had found a trumpet in the middle of the jungle that one time, but it's one of the reasons why Bosco sticks to drinking mostly milk now.

He and Murdock were not fast learners, it seemed.

"Who the hell beat the crap out of us last night?" Murdock's normally chipper voice was raspy and weak.

Temp slid into the vacant seat across from his friend. "I don't know, bud. I was hoping you had the answers."

H.M. nodded, then winced as if the action had multiplied his headache tenfold. "My intermittent memory loss must be contagious… or maybe we drank enough liquor to flood the city."

Face was betting on the second option.

Though neither quite felt up to moving, the two teammates managed to pull themselves together before checkout time. Thankful that they hadn't been stupid enough to attempt to drive Face's car, the two decided to walk back to the club to pick up the Corvette before heading back home to die.

Every time they went on a drinking binge the resulting hangover would make them swear to never touch alcohol again. The promise never lasted long, especially after a particularly stressful gig. Thankfully the club was only about three blocks away from the Holiday Inn they had seemingly stumbled upon.

Murdock had just begun his usual jump over the door and into the front seat, much to Face's consternation, when two guys in black ski masks came from around the side of the club and opened fire on the two friends. Used to thinking quickly in hot situations, Templeton gunned the engine and sped away from the threat before they could make it to their own vehicle and give chase.

H.M., panting with surprise and exertion, turned toward the driver of the Vette. "Friends of yours?"

The blonde shook his head. "I was about to ask you the same. You think Epstein and his goons are out on bail or something?"

"Doubt it, Muchacho… unless he has friends in higher places than we were led to believe. And the creep wasn't driving a nice enough car for me to buy that." Murdock began flipping through the radio stations as Templeton finally decided they were not being followed and turned the car back towards their safe house. "Maybe Hannibal will know what the heck is goin' on."

Face nodded his agreement and pulled into the long secluded driveway beside the familiar van. Both reflexively scanned their surroundings before making their way inside.

To say Hannibal was not amused would be a generous assumption. "Let me get this straight… you both, despite my hundreds of warnings in the past, get so drunk that neither of you has a clue as to what happened last night. Not one single idea between the two of you on how you managed to piss off two guys with guns who were lying in wait for you at the bar?"

The two boys stood solemnly in front of their commanding officer, looking thoroughly disheveled. Both were still wearing the wrinkled clothes they'd had on the day before, and were in desperate need of a shave and shower. Face attempted to talk their way out of trouble, but this was hard to do when one's baby blues were bloodshot.

Hannibal motioned for him to zip it before he'd even spoken a single word.

"I don't want to hear it, Lieutenant. Anything could have happened last night, and B.A. and I wouldn't have been able to do a damn thing about it! You two were obviously too drunk to watch out for yourselves." Hannibal paced back and forth with his cigar, the constant movement making the other two feel nauseous. "What if Decker had shown up?"

Murdock snorted with laughter, having a sudden mental image of Decker dancing the funky chicken in a posh, upscale nightclub. He met Temp's horrified expression before realizing his mistake. Brown eyes widening in fear, the smile slid off of his face as quickly as it had popped up. He risked a glance at the fuming colonel and gulped loudly.

"Something funny, Captain?" Hannibal's voice was pitched low, but the tone was unmistakable. H.M. was screwed.

"Yes sir… uh, I mean no sir, Colonel!" He finally had to look away from the penetrating gaze. "I mean sorry, Colonel."

Hannibal mercifully let it go. "I think that since you two would rather have your heads up your asses than on the dangers that we face on a daily basis, you should be the ones to discover what you can about this new threat… alone."

They both stared at the older man, aghast that they were being left to fend for themselves. Didn't Hannibal hear that the guys had guns?

"You will find these guys. You will capture these guys. Then, you will grill these guys on what they want with you and you will also find out who they're working for… Murdock - so help me, if you say one word about me ending my sentence with a preposition I will have you running laps until your grandkids graduate college!"

Murdock wisely shut his mouth.

As soon as they were dismissed, the two chastened officers left the room to construct a plan of action. They may be brave, but not one of them had balls large enough to challenge John "Hannibal" Smith… especially when he was this pissed off.

The two cleaned themselves up and met in Templeton's room with a mug of black coffee apiece. H.M. figured this was all a waste of time since the ones chasing them had no idea who or where they were. It didn't seem very likely that they'd continue to be a threat, but both knew Hannibal would not rest until the full danger was exposed.

"Okay, here's what we should do…" Temp picked up a pen and notebook from his desk before joining the taller man on the bed. "I think if we retrace our steps, starting from what we last remember, maybe we can find some people to fill in some of the blanks. Surely there are some waitresses who would remember me," the blonde said cockily as he straightened his tie. "I am, after all, unforgettable."

Murdock rolled his eyes. "Sometimes I wish that weren't true, Face," he grumbled.

Ignoring the pilot's sour mood, Templeton continued. "I can recall parking the Vette and entering the club. There was a bouncer there who looked like he could take B.A. at arm wrestling… and that's it." He ran his fingers through his still damp locks. "Nothing else until we're waking up in the hotel room."

The taller man sighed. "Well, the last thing I remember was you standing on the bar doing a strip tease for a group of ugly women while the DJ played Joe Cocker's 'You Can Leave Your Hat On'." He laughed as the pen thrown by his best friend bounced off of his head. "I think I passed out from horror when you got to your fly."

"Murdock, can you please be serious for one minute," Face whined.

The pilot put his hands up in a placating manner. "Okay, okay… I was only kidding."

Face nodded, satisfied. "Thank you."

"It was actually 'Pony' by Ginuwine."

Murdock wisely ran away from the conman, who immediately gave chase.

The two friends borrowed B.A.'s van, so as not to tempt fate, before heading back to the club to see if they could get some answers. Though the establishment was closed, Face managed to sweet-talk their way inside. Talking to two waitresses, who claimed to have been working while the two would have been in the club, yielded no results.

The blonde was about ready to give up when an attractive brunette passed by and did a double-take when she saw him. "Hey, I remember you!"

Temp smiled and prepared to offer up his most charming introduction when the girl continued. "You're the one who fell off the bar doing a strip tease to 'Pony'!" The girl started laughing while the conman's eyes widened in horror. "I won a bet with Charlie, the bartender, who thought you'd never make it to your underwear… nice boxers, by the way. Really loved the Superman pattern!"

Bright red with embarrassment, Face thanked her before heading for the exit. He never noticed H.M. slipping the girl a twenty dollar bill and high-fiving her before following.

This was a "Dear Diary" moment, for sure!

Once they reached the parking lot, both men stopped in horror. B.A.'s van, (the one that they had sworn upon pain of a slow death to return in pristine condition), was missing. They stood there, silently panicking, for about three minutes when the famous vehicle sped past them before doing a U-turn. The same two guys from earlier hung out the doors, pistols in hand.

Murdock knocked his friend to the ground before he could lose his head. They both were cursing the fact that they'd left their weapons in the van, and that was probably what the bad guys were using in the attempt to mow them down. Hating that neither of them could even lay cover fire, Face grabbed H.M. and helped him up as they darted for the corner of the building.

"What do we do, what do we do, what do we do?" Face could hear gravel crunching as the black vehicle zipped around to follow them. He frantically looked around for a place to hide before realizing that they were penned in the little alley. He was about to suggest they take their chances with climbing the large barbed wire fence when hands grabbed him underneath the arms and pulled him up.

Murdock, who had shimmied his way up the drainpipe and swung onto the fire escape ladder, reached down to pull his best friend to safety. As soon as the blonde was secure on the platform the van whipped around the corner.

Determination to not lose Bosco's precious ride spurred the pilot on as he made a valiant leap onto the roof of the vehicle before tackling one of the goons who was hanging out of the sliding door.

The action had knocked the gun loose from the masked man's grip, and the two tumbled out of the van in a frantic scrabble for the weapon. Templeton watched in horror as the driver snuck around with his own gun and leveled it at the back of his best friend's head before pulling the trigger.

Templeton could never remember screaming Murdock's name as the explosion of a gunshot echoed around them, but he would always recall the relief he felt the moment he realized the pilot hadn't been hit.

Ripping off his mask, the gunman said, "If these hadn't have been blanks, you'd be dead, fool!"

The second guy removed his own ski mask before pulling a cigar out and lighting it up. "Very sloppy, Captain."

Murdock and Temp could only stare in shock as the faces of their other two teammates were revealed. Face climbed down the ladder and helped the still shaking pilot to his feet. "So… you two…."

Hannibal smiled. "Were the mysterious masked gunmen? That's right, Lieutenant. B.A. and I were sick of trailing after you every time you decided to drink yourselves into a stupor." The two men stowed the guns and climbed into the van, followed by a still dazed Peck and Murdock. "We set you up in a hotel, then decided an early morning surprise was in order."

H.M. nodded as if everything made sense to him. "I see. You figured since the lecturin' wasn't workin' that you'd teach us a practical lesson on why it's so important to not drink so much that we lose control."

Hannibal grinned at him. "Nah… we were just tired of babysitting you guys and wanted to fuck with you. Why should you have all the fun?"

He laughed as the two men glared indignantly. While B.A. drove them all home, Templeton could be heard to murmur, "I need a drink."

Murdock shook his head. "Not me, muchacho. I think B.A.'s got the right idea in stickin' with milk!"