leverageficrecs

[leverageficrecs]

So adorable! The line about the "masochistically inadequate supply of both ice packs and vegetables," made me laugh.

Only the Best

Parker will accept nothing but the best in injury care for her team, even if her idea of “best” is… unusual. Eliot, and later Breanna, recuperate from injuries with the help of the best ice pack, which, as everyone knows, is the green one. Everyone, that is, except Harry, who still has much to learn about this life of crime. (Also on Ao3)

Parker narrowed her eyes. “I said the green ice pack.”

Harry's eyes went from Parker to the blue ice pack in his hand, freshly retrieved from the freezer. “Aren't they the same?”

Parker's frown deepened. “Does that look green to you?”

“Parker.” Eliot rested his good hand on her forearm.

“Well, no,” Harry floundered. “I just meant that they looked the same except for the color, and I didn't think that matter—” Whatever he saw in Parker's face, he apparently thought better of finishing that sentence and raised his hands placatingly. “I'm sorry. I'll go back and get the green one.” He met Eliot's eyes worriedly. “Do you want me to take this one back with me or use it until I get the right one?”

Eliot wordlessly held his hand out for the blue ice pack and gingerly pressed it to his injured shoulder as Harry headed back downstairs. Parker scowled at his retreating back before returning to her task of—none too gently—cleaning the cut on Eliot's temple.

“Park, he didn't know.”

“I told him to get the green one!”

“I know, but they look like they'd work the same.” They would work the same—the only difference was color—but Eliot knew that argument was a lost cause.

“The green one is the best! You need to use that one so your arm heals fast.”

Eliot sighed and rested his head against the back of the chair, lips twitching into an involuntary smile. “…It's OK. I'm sure he'll remember next time.”

…

There were a full dozen ice packs lined up neatly in the door of the freezer. The favored Green Ice Pack was at the front of the pack where someone (Harry? Sophie? Eliot couldn't remember) had returned it after it had thawed beyond usefulness. Eliot poked it experimentally, but it wasn't refrozen yet.

He sighed and grabbed the blue one behind it—the one Harry had brought first.

The next one after that was purple and identical to the blue and green except for color (they'd come in a 3-pack). They were the best of the bunch for general use, in Eliot's opinion—good size, optimal texture when frozen (malleable enough to wrap around the body, but stiff enough to hold their shape be pressed into a sore muscle with some pressure without all the cold filling oozing away into the edges), smooth casing. The others were perfectly adequate, just… not as good in one aspect or another. Slightly too small or an awkward shape or scratchy edges exposed or an unpleasant casing material. Eliot was pretty sure the one at the far end hadn't been used since they moved in here, but in his line of work, it was better to have extra first aid supplies rather than risk running out when you needed them.

He closed the freezer and slowly made his way back towards the stairs.

Maybe he should just buy another pack of the good ice packs. Maybe check if they could be purchased individually (or in an all-green pack) to make this easier in the future.

Probably should check with Parker first, though. She had always insisted the green one was the best (enough that he himself irrationally favored the green one—he just wouldn't have actually sent Harry back to swap them), but he wasn't 100% that the color was the sole reason, and the last thing he needed was to have to determine which of four identical green ice packs is the Green Ice Pack.

…

Breanna curled into herself on the couch. She bit her lower lip, blinking back tears and trying not to audibly sniffle.

This was stupid. Eliot got hurt worse than this all the time. She shouldn't be a baby about it. It didn't even hurt that much.

It was just… She'd never been punched in the face before, at least not since a handful of unskilled elementary-school brawls. The blow had been glancing (turns out it's hard to follow through on a punch while Eliot Spencer is actively dislocating your other arm as he yanks you off of his teammate), but seeing a security guard twice her size with actual fighting skills swinging his fist at her head (and seeing the glee in his face at the opportunity to hurt her) had left her trembling uncontrollably.

Eliot finished his careful assessment of her bruised cheek. He hadn't gotten more than an arms-length away since he'd dropped the unconscious goon on the ground and hustled her back to the food truck to drive to HQ. Harry paced anxiously behind him.

Breanna willed herself not to cry. It wasn't Eliot's fault—or Harry's—that the guard had come after her while they were dealing with the mark.

“OK, darlin'. Looks like it's just a bruise, but you should put some ice on that.”

Breanna couldn't quite hold back a sniffle. “…Can I have the green one?”

She wasn't expecting the soft smile and gentle squeeze of her shoulder she got in return. “Of course you're gonna get the green one. Only the best for you, and the green ice pack—”

“Is the best,” Breanna finished, smiling despite her watery eyes. She swiped a sleeve across her eyes. “Everybody knows that.” She paused. “Except Harry.”

“Hey!” Harry smiled at her, belying his aggrieved tone. “I learned.”

Eliot returned with the green ice pack—which he solemnly displayed to her before wrapping the towel around it—and a tupperware of homemade triple-chocolate brownies from the freezer.

“You know,” said Harry, “when I got hit in the head, I didn't even get an ice pack. All I got was a bag of frozen peas, and they didn't even let me keep that because there was only one and your brother was hungover!”

“Were they green peas?” said Breanna.

Harry's face contorted through a few surprised expressions before he finally shrugged. “…Well, yes. I guess they were. I do think the 'ice pack' attribute of the 'green ice pack' is also key, though.”

“OK, look,” said Eliot. “First, that was at Sophie's house, and Sophie and Nate kept a masochistically inadequate supply of both ice packs and vegetables. Second, you were still a dirty lawyer that I just had to carry home to keep you from being caught in your little museum stunt. You think you deserved the green ice pack under those circumstances?”

“I was doing crime!”

Eliot raised an eyebrow.

“I was trying to do crime,” Harry amended.

Eliot folded his arms. “Breanna was doing crime at a level that had the FBI tracking her before she ever joined the team.”

“I almost stole a Rembrandt! I was getting there.”

“You were getting yourself on a fast track to being arrested. And you wouldn't have gotten FBI over one attempted art theft. You would have gotten local police and maybe an overly dedicated insurance agent. It's not the same thing.”

Breanna couldn't suppress a snort of laughter.

“Breanna! Don't gang up on me! I need backup here!”

“Hey, I told you: You make me look good!”

[leverageficrecs]

Leverage Fic Rec

The Street Food Jobs by SwordAndStars (SwordAndStarsWriting) on Ao3

Summary (from the author):

Five times street food played a role in a job, and one time the street food WAS the job. Featuring pretzels, shawarma, bao, Scotch Eggs, breakfast burritos, paletas, pizza, and Eliot Spencer frequently questioning his life choices.

Why I recommend it: This is one I have read and re-read multiple times. I mean, a 5+1 fic about street food that even has footnotes with links to the actual food markets and recipes mentioned in the fic? Eliot would be proud. I love how the author captured each of the characters, especially Eliot, and the many little details and references to things from the show. It’s also delightfully funny!

[leverageficrecs]

Leverage fic rec

Why I recommend it: I love AUs for the Leverage team, and one that also includes Maggie? Absolute perfection. It’s also hilarious and was very fun to read!

“Parker.”

“Uh-huh?” she replies, distracted by the climbing equipment she’s laying out on the office floor.

“What have we said about the ‘no dead animals’ fridge?”

--

In an alternate universe, the crew are park rangers. They are not less weird about it.

[leverageficrecs]

Leverage fic rec

Why I recommend it: Short and sweet little fic of the ot3. Very cute! P.S. No spoilers for the latest season of Redemption, so you can still read this if you have not seen it yet.

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Leverage (US TV 2008), Leverage: Redemption Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Alec Hardison/Parker/Eliot Spencer Characters: Alec Hardison, Parker (Leverage), Eliot Spencer (Leverage) Additional Tags: Fluff, Takes place between any seasons of Redemption Summary:

Hardison sputtered as the pillow that hit him in the face was pulled away and returned to its side of the bed.

“I thought we agreed no serious talk in bed. I’m trying to get some sleep here.”

—

A quiet moment after Hardison returns.

[leverageficrecs]

Leverage Fic Rec

(Main information already available in above post.)

Why I recommend it: I thought the premise sounded like so much fun and such a creative idea, and the writer (OP) absolutely delivered on it. I loved how each of the team member’s individual responses to what should be - as Hardison would point out - a fairly simple question, were so in-character. I also liked how Hardison’s point of view was written: the fic really captured his humor, his caring for the team and his individual relationships with them all, and his frustrated but forgiving attitude as his teammates each prove to be the most difficult people on Earth to do one nice favor for, lol.

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Leverage (US TV 2008) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Alec Hardison & Eliot Spencer, Nathan Ford & Alec Hardison, Alec Hardison & Parker, Sophie Devereaux & Alec Hardison Characters: Alec Hardison, Eliot Spencer (Leverage), Nathan Ford, Sophie Devereaux (Leverage), Parker (Leverage) Additional Tags: Season 1, Canon Compliant, Fluff, Team Dynamics, minor references to the big bang job at the end, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, I mean it’s season 1 nate what do you expect Summary:

Hardison may have never worked on a criminal crew before, but he’d played enough co-op games and RPGs to know that it was a good idea to learn your teammates’ enemies. If someone came after one member of the team, the rest often got caught in the crossfire. Early in season one, Hardison asks each member of the Leverage crew if they have any known enemies he should keep track of. The conversations don’t go the way he expects.

[leverageficrecs]

scaffolding

Parker was gone.

This wouldn't do for Hardison, who was very proud of having learned to cook omelettes all by his lonesome so as to stymie Eliot's attempts to sneak into the kitchen and strain his sprained (not broken) wrist making sure everyone ate something other than cereal. This pride demanded that everyone be there to witness his slightly dry and mildly overspiced creations.

Parker had, thirty minutes ago, pursed her lips when the smell of powdered garlic (baby steps, they were still getting to knife skills) drifted in from the kitchen. Twelve and a half seconds later she'd been out the window.

Which is why Eliot is here, wandering around the port like a goddamn idiot, seriously considering making 'here kitty' noises as a tactic to find Parker. It's about as low on his list of options as possible, just under screwing up his hand more by climbing to get a better vantage point and right above giving up. He doesn't think it'd actually work, but she might show up just to ask him why he was being weird.

"Eliot," a familiar voice calls, from the top of a shipping container, and he thanks the god he probably still believes in for saving him from unnecessary injury and/or humiliation before scanning his surroundings. A familiar pale face looks down at him from about two stories up, which isn't so bad, considering that the ladders on the side line up.

It takes a bit of undignified scrambling and the handkerchief from his pocket tucked between his teeth so he doesn't get tetanus from the rungs–he'd use the dental dam he keeps in there with it but that would demand an explanatory conversation he doesn't really want to have with Parker right now, so he settles for the worn fabric.

There's a kind of appreciation in her eyes when he gets to the top–not awe, like some of the civilians he shows off for, but acknowledgement borne of understanding, and it's a little intoxicating sometimes. It makes him want to peacock a little for her, which is a dangerous impulse.

"This thing smells like fish," he tells her, instead of asking what's wrong or saying he was worried. He's long learned to give her the space to reach out even though she's a little less skittish these days–more likely to nip than bite. He's always liked that about her–the violent instincts–though they've landed them all in trouble more than once. It means he worries about her a little less.

"Needed something bad," she says, frowning a little. "The smell of the spices wouldn't go away."

"Powdered garlic that bad?" he asks, hoisting himself a little farther up the corrugated metal. It digs uncomfortably into his hip, and feels upsettingly slimy, but he pays that less attention than the stiff way Parker's holding herself–not like she's in a no touching mood, but rather like she's holding herself back from climbing all over him.

He considers the bruises where an unexpected piece of scaffolding that had caught him across the thighs and the shoulder he'd nearly dislocated in the process of spraining his wrist and decides that won't do.

He holds out his arms and relaxes his face. No one but Parker has ever liked it when he does that–it makes his eyes go blank and his jaw loose, like he's sleeping or out of it or a robot, or whatever else people have said. He'd trained himself out of it as a kid, figured out how to look confident or smug or bored all the time.

Then, for a long time, he was just angry, and that made it easy.

Parker likes to lean across the table and poke at the creases of his brow and chin and eyes until they go flat. She told him, once, when she had a hundred and four fever and was potentially hallucinating, that it made her feel less alone to be around someone else who wasn't pretending.

He holds for a minute, then two, and just when his arms are starting to burn she growls and clambers over to cram herself against his ribcage and tuck her sharp little chin into the divot of his collarbone.

"This is worse," she informs him, muffled against his undershirt.

"Than the fish smell?" he asks, and gets a sharp pinch to the side for playing stupid. "Ow!"

"The feeling," she says, only whining a little. "Feelings. I dunno. I'm not good at telling them apart."

"I know," he says, and she grumbles and tries to fit a hand under his shirt which is not happening on the top of a shipping container, so he grabs her hand in his own and tips his head to redirect it up to his hair. "Stop trying to distract me, Parker."

"I don't wanna talk about it," she complains, doing her best to make his head look like a rats' nest with her hand at the center.

"I can't make you," he reminds her, shifting to adjust her weight and then settling back in. "But you know it'll just last longer if you doing."

"Ugh," she says, with every one of her little bird bones. "I don't want to need that. I don't want to need you, or Hardison, or anyone else."

"...okay," he says, confused. "But you. Don't?"

"That's the problem! I can't tell!" She twists, pressing her back into his sternum and looking out across the dock. "And if I don't, then I'm doing it wrong."

"Doing what wrong?"

"Loving you," she says, and it's been months now, but it still takes his breath away to hear her say the words so easily. It isn't like they haven't been saying it in different ways to each other for years, now, but the frank way she puts it makes Eliot's throat close. Hardison isn't the same, he knows, but Hardison first told Eliot he loved him eight days after they met when he'd picked up a box of Cheerios and milk for the whole team at a corner store.

"You can't do loving someone wrong," he tells her, because he's maybe bad at saying it but he's loved lots of people lots of different ways, and he's done some pretty bad things as a result, but he doesn't regret any of the feelings.

"Yeah, well, I'm special," she says, which is her new favorite way to react to any kind of reasonable advice.

"I don't want you to love me like you can't live without me," he says, and by the way her breath catches in her chest, heart kicking up a gear until it feels like a hummingbird trapped under the palm he's laid across her ribs, he's hit the heart of the issue.

"But that's how you're supposed to do it," she says, small and plaintive and tired.

"Supposed to is stupid," he tells her, and himself, a little bit. "I can't imagine my life without you and Hardison. But I could do it, probably. I wouldn't want to. I would hate it, more than anything else. I need you to be happy. I need you to be comfortable, and because my life would be so much worse without you. But I don't need you to live, and I'm not sorry about that."

She goes silent for a long moment and then squirms out of his grip, turning and bracing her knees on the roof so she can tuck her chin over the crown if his head.

"You're smart," she informs him, sounding contemplative."

"Well. I'm not doing anything else with all the brain space you and Hardison use on movies," Eliot says, a little muffled by the base of her throat.

"You could wear your special glasses," she suggests, and he growls, low in his chest, at the idea.

It makes her giggle so he keeps it up until she falls, boneless, back into his lap, and starts batting at his hair like a cat.

"C'mon," he says, nudging her. "If the eggs get cold I think Hardison will cry and we're out of the soft tissues."

"Don't be mean," she says, but bounces to her feet and helps him down the ladder.

They set off down the dock and there's a weight missing from Parker's steps he hadn't even noticed until it was gone.

That'll do.

[leverageficrecs]

A Very Parker Christmas

Fandom: Leverage: Redemption Compilation: Moments in the Life of Leverage Fam A/N: Catatonic_Dwam on ao3 wanted to see Astrid experience a Parker Christmas, so here is Astrid being repeatedly flabbergasted.

Astrid strides down the hallway, eager to get to her hotel room.

Her time in Singapore thus far can be described by one word: wet. It's very like England in a way, except that it's also warm, which feels strange. The moment Astrid opens her room door, she can feel herself relax with the promise of a quick shower and dry clothes.

"Sophie said you're not coming for Christmas."

Astrid jolts at the sudden voice. The room is still dark, and she has her gun in hand before she realizes what's happening.

"Parker." Astrid exhales sharply, trying to come down from the spike of adrenaline. She puts her gun in its holster and her card in the slot by the door, so the lights turn on. "What are you doing here?"

"Sophie said you're not coming for Christmas," Parker repeats.

"I'm working a big case," Astrid explains. "I don't have time to fly to America, and--"

"Yes, you do," Parker interrupts. "I had Breanna hack a few computers. Eliot punched some people. You're free now." She speaks so casually as though she's not skating over so many crimes.

"And did that get me any admissible evidence?" Astrid asks skeptically. "Because I can't use..." She trails off as Parker pulls a handkerchief from her pocket.

"Do you want to be conscious for the plane ride back or not?" Parker asks.

Astrid eyes the handkerchief warily, knowing it's probably laced with chloroform or the like, and accepts her defeat. "You want me there that badly?"

Parker scoffs. "I don't," she says, but Astrid doesn't believe her. "It's my Christmas gift for Sophie."

"I think you want me there," Astrid says, unable to stop herself from needling her former nemesis.

"No, I don't," Parker insists.

"I think you do," Astrid persists. When Parker lifts the handkerchief once again, Astrid sighs. "Okay, okay. Do I at least have time to pack?"

"I already did it for you," Parker says as if that's a totally normal thing.

Astrid is still processing that weird statement when she suddenly finds her holdall flying towards her face. She twists quickly, grabbing the bag from the air before it can hit her.

"Parker!"

...

"Astrid, you made it!"

There's not a hint of surprise in Sophie's tone, and Astrid realizes that even if she didn't have a hand in it, Sophie must've known what Parker was up to. That does nothing to diminish the joy in her voice, and Astrid decides that makes being kidnapped in the middle of a big case well worth it.

"Happy Christmas," Astrid says as she steps in for a hug.

The tender moment is broken by a scoffing laugh.

"Happy Christmas." Parker laughs again as she shakes her head. "Don't be silly. It's 'Merry Christmas' or 'Happy birthday, Jesus.' You can't just smoosh them together."

"Happy birthday, Jesus?" Astrid mouths to herself, slowly digesting the words. She supposes it's technically not wrong, but it's also not something she's heard people say. Although one could never know for certain with Americans. Astrid looks at Sophie in confusion.

"When in Rome, darling," Sophie says with an indulgent smile.

"Steal a painting," Parker finishes. "Or an antique, or a statue. Or all three. Why limit yourself?"

"Parker!" Astrid says before stopping as she remembers she's outnumbered.

Sophie's smile somehow manages to simultaneously be supportive towards Parker and sympathetic towards Astrid. She puts a hand on Astrid's back and leads her to the bar area. In the background, Parker flits up and down the stairs. Astrid does her best to ignore all the activity and concentrate on her stepmother.

Sophie explains that Harry Wilson is away with his daughter for the holidays. Hardison, Breanna, and Eliot have gone to Nana's. Parker is sticking around for some reason that is "definitely not Astrid." Sophie says the last bit with the winking sort of tone that indicates Parker is lying but doesn't want to admit it.

Briefly Astrid wonders what Sophie's plans would have been if Parker hadn't kidnapped her. Had she made any, or had she known what Parker would do from the beginning? Of course, that was all predicated on the fact that Astrid was busy with her case. Or did it not matter? Was Astrid going to end up in New Orleans no matter what? It's enough of a headache that Astrid stops thinking about it.

Finally, the reason behind all of Parker's activity is revealed. "Help me with the tree," she says, which is a perfectly normal statement coming from just about anyone else.

Astrid should've known better. She stares, jaw dropping at the boxes filled with millions of dollars of loot.

Parker haphazardly begins placing her loot on the tree. Astrid picks up the Lion of Gilgamesh and feels wrong, complicit somehow. She cannot bring herself to place it on the Christmas tree, tempted as she is to slip it into her pocket and smuggle it back to its rightful place. But there is so much loot. She can't do it with all of them. And besides, does she really think she could steal from a thief?

Astrid does feel a hypocrite, standing there as she is with a stolen diamond hung around her neck. But still, she had declined, quite vehemently, the stolen ring that Sophie had tried to give her for her birthday. She still has limits.

Doesn't she?

Sophie hasn't joined in. She remains seated at the bar, watching the dilemma clearly playing out on Astrid's face. "It's your choice, darling," she says.

It's not the first time Sophie has said as much to her, and it certainly won't be the last. Reconciling with Sophie had been one thing. They have enough history to build a bridge between their two sides of the law. But now here she is being adopted into Sophie's family of criminals. Astrid takes in Parker's expectant look and sighs.

She places the Lion of Gilgamesh on the tree.

...

Christmas, it turns out, is a big deal to Parker.

She's not being over-the-top and in-your-face to mess with Astrid. She treats Christmas like someone reclaiming the childhood wonder that was stolen from her and is apparently determined to have Astrid do the same. At one point, Astrid checks her phone for any updates on her case. Parker hisses at that. The next thing Astrid knows, she can't find her phone or her laptop anywhere.

On the night of Christmas Eve, Astrid literally gets roped into doing a rooftop tour of New Orleans. Parker claims they are scoping out the best routes for Santa. Astrid yelps a few times when Parker pushes her off a roof, but she's pleased that she never outright screams.

Later when Sophie asks, Astrid admits it was fun, certainly more adrenaline-inducing than the Christmas crackers of her youth.

They don't exchange gifts on Christmas morning. Apparently the crew had already planned to do it when Hardison, Breanna, and Eliot return on Boxing Day.

Astrid feels woefully unprepared. She hadn't known she was going to be in New Orleans for Christmas.

"You're here," Sophie says as if that's enough.

Astrid and Sophie don't quite manage a turkey, which Parker insists is a Thanksgiving dish anyway, but a hearty stew makes for a decent substitute along with some roast potatoes and Yorkshire pudding. Parker contributes a surprisingly accurate gingerbread replica of the Tretyakov Gallery.

When Hardison, Breanna, and Eliot return the next day, Parker finally decides that Astrid is allowed to resume working on her case. Along with her laptop, Astrid finds some intel that Breanna had found during her hack. She settles down at the bar and gets to work while the others do their gift exchange.

Parker sidles up beside her. "January 17."

"What?" Astrid looks back and forth between Parker and her laptop, wondering how it's relevant to her case.

"That's your Christmas present to me," Parker says. "I'm going to steal a Caravaggio from the Uffizi on January 17."

"And you're telling me because?" Astrid asks, all thoughts of her case now gone. She very much doubts Parker wants her to help in any way.

"I want the full works," Parker says as if she's ordering a pizza. "Thermal scopes, guards on overlapping and rotating schedules, everything. Do your best. Gotta make it epic for the hat trick." She slaps Astrid on shoulder and then hops off the stool to go re-join Hardison by the Christmas tree.

Astrid rubs her shoulder--Parker is strong--and starts thinking about the Uffizi Gallery. There are three Caravaggio pieces there. Then Parker's words register.

"Wait, hat trick? You've stolen two?"

[leverageficrecs]

Leverage Fic Rec:

you aren’t an accomplice (if you don’t ask questions) by AboveGround on ao3

Summary:

The occasion, at least for that first time, is, “I want to look like someone who would buy drugs from a used car salesman they just met.”

Ette has dealt with lots of strange customers and stranger requests in her years as a hairstylist, but none of them prepared her for Alice White. That doesn't stop Ette from helping the best she can, however.

Why I recommend it: I generally enjoy outsider POV concept in the Leverage fandom, since the team’s actions must be strange, to anyone not in on the con. But even then, this fic in particular was a stand out! It was absolutely hilarious and brought the same warm, comfy vibes of a Leverage episode. I loved how Parker (apologies - Alice) was written and the snippets of jobs we get through the outsider’s (Ette’s) eyes and Parker’s not too subtle hairstyle requests.

[leverageficrecs]

In honor of the Redemption season 3 finale I am taking prompts for Leverage Redemption fics! Ideally ones that can be short, and nothing nsfw

[leverageficrecs]

there's always been somebody singing

“How did you know it would work?” Harry asks. He’s leaning against his makeshift desk, looking at the floor. Pretending he and Hardison are friends. “When you were explaining redemption to me, I mean.” Harry and Hardison and being Jewish.

leverage redemption pilot scene where hardison talks to harry about redemption in judaism you will always be famous to me

[leverageficrecs]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Leverage (US TV 2008) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Alec Hardison/Parker/Eliot Spencer, Parker & Eliot Spencer (Leverage) Characters: Eliot Spencer (Leverage), Parker (Leverage), Alec Hardison, Breanna Casey, Sophie Devereaux (Leverage) Additional Tags: this is a coda to 3x09: the polygiest job, Getting Together, kind of. like right up to the line, Feelings Realization, eliot is a bit of a mess so he spirals for a hot second, but also parker knows him so well that she can call him out on it, hardison is only there via text, it’s mostly a conversation between eliot and parker Summary:

Parker asks a question, Breanna reveals an assumption, and Eliot tries not to freak out.

Then Parker and Eliot talk about what Breanna’s assumption might mean.

–

The conversation that happens immediately after “Hey guys? Are we a polycule?”, a coda to Redemption 3.09: The Polygiest Job.

y’all!!! Someone gave us the post credits scene for the polygeist job and it’s perfect 

[leverageficrecs]

Leverage Fic Rec:

Super Villain Origin Story by Aegialia on ao3

Summary (from author):

The one where Dubenich has got the supernatural and just needs one normal man to keep them on task.

Why I recommend it: I thought the magic or supernatural abilities chosen for each character and how they affected each character’s backstory was really thoughtfully chosen. I wish this fic was a tv series of its own!

You can submit recommendations of Leverage fanfiction you’ve enjoyed, or recommend your own writing, in this blog’s ask box!

[leverageficrecs]

#are there any fics#or do i have to write them myself

There are definitely some trans!leverage fics out there (although I think we would all love more if you’re willing to write some!). You might see some popular headcanons such as Eliot being trans in some way (I’ve seen transmasc, transfem, and nonbinary!Eliot), Sophie being transfem, Parker being nonbinary, and more. Here’s some fic recs (none of them have spoilers past hot potato):

The Just Ask Job by frnklyfrankie: An amazing transmasc!Eliot fic. I loved the comedy and how well-written it was. A happy, funny, cute oneshot.

synonym of change by tziporim (ferns): Everyone (except Nate) is trans. They didn’t know this about each other… until right now. A fun, mostly lighthearted oneshot.

That’s Not Me (It Can’t Be) by newt426: Focused on transfem butch!Eliot, with a side of nonbinary!Parker and bisexual!Hardison & bisexual!Sophie. Mainly about Eliot dealing with this realization, having complicated feelings, and coming out. A hurt/comfort vibe, multi-chapter fic.

i'm on the hot potato job and now i can't stop thinking about trans!leverage

[leverageficrecs]

Leverage fic rec

(Main information already available in above post.)

Why I recommend it: There are never enough fics about Harry and Breanna’s friendship! Plus, they are both written super accurately here (in my humble opinion). This fic portrays their bond so well and I loved to see them discuss navigating being queer, considering the most recent episode!

the textbook definition

Breanna’s burning the digital midnight oil when Harry shows up looking like a kicked dog.

i really thought the next leverage fic i'd finish would be the blue beetle crossover. WRONG. bre & harry besties blast

[leverageficrecs]

Leverage Fic Rec

(Main information already available in the above post.)

Why I recommend it: 1) The pun title made me laugh when I realized, 2) as much as I enjoyed what actually happened in the episode, it’s always fun to see other fan theories brought to life, and 3) I loved the way it was written. Here’s my favorite line as an example:

The two of them stayed standing together for a moment, in a parody of an embrace, until Parker’s blood turned their grip warm and wet.

The imagery is very evocative and the words "parody of an embrace" capture the canon scene so perfectly!

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Leverage (US TV 2008) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Parker & Astrid Pickford, Sophie Devereaux & Parker (Leverage) Characters: Parker (Leverage), Astrid Pickford, Sophie Devereaux (Leverage), Breanna Casey, Tara Cole Additional Tags: Leverage: Redemption (2021), Episode: s03e05 The Grand Complication Job (Leverage: Redemption), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Whump, Parker (Leverage) whump, this is twice as long as I intended it to be, yes the title is a pun. I couldn’t think of anything better Summary:

“What have I done?” The knife slipped from Astrid’s fingers, clattering against the concrete. “I stabbed you!” Astrid said, her voice breaking. “I stabbed me,” Parker corrected. “Gotta give whoever’s watching us a show, right?” An AU where Parker does in fact get stabbed on the rooftop.

[leverageficrecs]

Impromptu Hair Play

Rating: General Audiences

Summary: A bored Parker decides to play with Nate’s hair.

Word Count: 674 Words

Warning(s): None

Tags: Team Leverage, Found Family, Team Bonding, Team As Family, Hair Play, Hair Brushing, Set Early Season Four, One Shot

Characters: Nathan Ford, Parker

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The lingering scent of burnt coffee hung thick in the air, a testament to Nate’s ongoing battle with the new high tech espresso machine Hardison had installed. The mastermind was hunched over blueprints of their most recent mark’s complex security system.

His brows furrowed as he studied the layouts to the best of his abilities, his brain attempting to memorize and map every little detail with perfect precision. He had a nasty headache that just kept growing as he continued to stare at it with intense concentration.

Tapping the pencil to his temple, he sighed, his starting to slouch. That was when he felt something, or someone rather, touch his hair. He looked up and turned his head around, only to find Parker toying with his unruly curls, muttering about the softness of them.

He gave her a tired, unamused look when she beamed at him, and he shook his head slightly as he turned his attention back to his previous activity. The thief’s hands still hadn’t retreated, but were completely sunk into his scalp, cold hands seemingly seeking the warmth that emanated from his skull.

“Really, Parker?” He asked, his brow now raised as she just shrugged and continued to play with his hair. “It’s so curly.” She remarked, gently tugging at the brown strands. “Wanna tell me why you’ve decided to toy with my hair?” He inquired, feigning high annoyance that he partially hoped mask the growing smile on his face.

“I got bored cleaning my lock picks.” She replied and shrugged again in nonchalance. The mastermind sighed loudly, yet let her carry on with her activity as she proceeded to smooth his hair down, only to ruffle it back up again, giggling as she repeated the action over and over again.

After a few minutes, she departed, only to return with a hair brush and a few hair accessories that Sophie had left behind in the bathroom upstairs. Carefully, Parker brushed the unruly curls out, detangling them with a similar gentleness that mirrored the grifter’s.

“Your hair poofs up when it’s brushed.” She commented, and giggled again, running her hands through the now frizzy strands. “And the curls are sort of gone.” She cocked her head to the side In confusion, then shrugged once more, picking up an elastic hair tie and tying it around one of the locks, resembling a haphazard, makeshift ponytail.

Nathan didn’t even have the energy to protest or argue anymore, he just sat there in his chair, promptly defeated, with his thief making a monstrosity out of his previously neatly disheveled hair. After a moment of what felt like an eternity, Parker stepped back, admiring her work while beaming from ear to ear, nearly bouncing up and down in pure, unadulterated glee.

“Ta-da!” She said finally, the cheekiest grin plastered to her face. “You look perfect!” Nate sighed heavily, shaking his head and rolling his eyes at her. “I probably look like an idiot.” He replied, which caused the thief to nearly double over in laughter.

She then hugged him unexpectedly, and he hugged her back, patting her in a father like gesture. She still continued to play with his hair, carding his fingers through the now messy brown curls.

He loved her so much, just like he loved the rest of his team, his chaotic, slightly dysfunctional family of criminals that had entered into his life as he almost lost himself to the bottle and the overwhelming grief that had consumed him whole ever since his son passed and his life shattered in pieces.

They were apart of him now, whether he liked it or not; they were his rock, his anchor, something that gave him stability as they pulled him back to the surface after he’d drowned in his sorrows and anger for so long. He let himself close his eyes, grounded by the nimble fingers that danced to a rhythm in his hair, and he let the soft smile he’d fought finally spread across his features, completely and utterly content.

[leverageficrecs]

March of Pain Day 18: Torture

The room they were trapped in was just cold enough to be uncomfortable, and Parker could hear water dripping from somewhere nearby, and she could smell it, dank and stale. That meant, she had reasoned soon after being thrown in here, that if water could get in then she could get out, but it had proved to be only a tiny crack in the wall, which beaded with condensation and dripped down onto the floor.

She shivered and pulled her jacket tighter around her. Eliot would be back any second—the grunting and sounds of fists and bodies cracking against stone had died down a minute ago—and she readied herself next to the door. She was just in time; no sooner had she gotten into position than the door swung open, Eliot was thrown through, and she caught his dead weight as best she could before he cracked his head on the stone floor. It had become something of a routine over the past week—they always threw him in aimed slightly to the left of the door, he always listed a bit to the right, and Parker always caught him.

She scanned him, analyzing his injuries today. A dislocated shoulder, which she could fix; a broken nose, which she couldn’t; bruises scattered around his torso and arms, where he’d blocked and failed to block hits. They were worse today than they had been the last few days. “Eliot. Can you talk?”

He blinked at her rapidly, more quickly than usual, which unnerved her. Usually his gaze was steady and intent. She didn’t know what it meant when his eyelashes fluttered like that, but it couldn’t be good. Slowly, his mouth ground open, revealing bloodied teeth and gums and split lips. “Yeah,” he grunted. “I can talk.”

“Let’s fix your shoulder.” She hauled him upward and braced his good shoulder against the wall. As soon as the dislocated joint clicked into place, Eliot let himself slide back down to kneel on the floor. Parker sat beside him, worried more than comforted when he let their shoulders brush. For a long time, the silence was broken only by the drip of water, the reminder that they weren’t completely separated from the world, but that, in this windowless room with a door that relied on remote access to open and close, they were as far from it as they had ever been.

Eliot breathed a sigh. “You can get out of here, Parker. The next time they open the door, you slip out. Don’t worry about me, just get out of here any way you know how.”

“No.” She crossed her arms. “You wouldn’t leave me in here, so I won’t leave you.”

Eliot opened his eyes with what seemed great effort, but they weren’t blinking so rapidly when they met hers. “Remember what I told you on that mountain? Quit thinking about the right thing to do and do the practical thing. It doesn’t make it wrong.”

Parker frowned, but…didn’t he have a point? “If I get out,” she said, her eyes scanning the door, already analyzing, planning, finding weaknesses, “I can bring the team to get you.”

Eliot nodded. “Yeah. At least one of us will know where the other one is.”

He hadn’t actually agreed to the part about rescuing him; even Parker noticed that. He didn’t believe they would. And that realization made her even more determined. Impulsively, she reached out and gripped Eliot’s hand, disregarding his bloodied knuckles. “At least it’s us.” Because Hardison would stay, hung unspoken in the air between them. Eliot gave her a tiny nod.

So the next morning, when they came for Eliot again, to drag him out to the arena where he would spend the next six hours fighting for his life, Parker twisted through the door and darted down a hallway and paused on the ledge of a window and looked back (for just a moment) at someone who’d become her family being shoved at gunpoint in the opposite direction, and she silently promised him that she would return for him, with a mastermind and a grifter and a hacker all intent on getting him back.