Riff-Raff

Title: Riff-Raff

By: Junkfoodmonkey

Rated: G

Summary: Double Drabble. Is Face's social climbing rooted in insecurity.

Disclaimer: The A-Team doesn’t belong to me, I'm not making any money from this.

Riff-raff.

Face felt his stomach knotting as he approached the enemy, smiling.

"Reservation for Peck."

The head waiter swept Face with an assessing glance, taking in an Armani suit, gold Rolex watch, Gucci shoes, expensive haircut and exquisite manicure. He didn't notice the smile.

Face prayed he wouldn't start sweating under the scrutiny. Every time he was sure that they could see right through him. That they could see past the veneer money had given him, to the homeless, nameless, fatherless orphan boy underneath. And he was sure they were sneering at him. For real, not just with the wholesale sneer of that faux French manner.

Sometimes he hated the other men he saw coming into restaurants. The ones for whom it all came naturally. Who didn't worry about impressing the head waiter. Who could, without any conscious thought, invisibly pass the bank note that got them their table a little faster. Face had had to practice that for weeks.

"Of course, M'sieur Peck, this way please." Face and his date took their seats, waiters fussing around them. The wine-waiter approached, corkscrew on a ribbon around his neck. Face breathed a sigh of relief. Fooled another one. The riff-raff was in.

end