Leverage Writing Prompt #31
Title: Future Tides
Fandom: Leverage
Summary: Nate has been keeping a secret from the team, but an inopportune explosion forces him to reveal it.
This is a prompt fill for @leverage-writing-prompts. I actually submitted this prompt back in July, but only got around to finishing it now.
In honor of the beautiful (and also occasionally creepy) mer-May art I still have circulating on my dash: Parker (or Nate) is secretly a merperson. When a job goes wrong, theyâre forced to reveal their secret.
@rinahale did a really fun fill for it already with Mer-Parker.
You can go here to read this on AO3 instead.
Authorâs notes: The merrow are Irish merfolk who require a magical cap to move between land and sea.
Bone and Sickle podcast by Al Ridenour did a really great episode on the Kraken (Ep 65: The Kraken & Other Marvels of the Northern Sea). In its earliest renditions, the Kraken was a sea serpent. It was only later that it became associated with first giant octopi, then the giant squid.
*************
Nate knew as soon as the explosion knocked Eliot over the railing of the pier that he only had one option. Eliot was strong swimmer, but not stronger than the turbulent currents under the pier, particularly if he was unconscious. Nate hadnât been able to tell in the split second it had taken to register him going over.
Even as he was yelling for the rest of the team to get off the burning structure, he was shucking off his shoes and jumping over the railings. He hoped they listened. The rickety structure was going to collapse, with or without another explosion. Getting to Eliot before he got bashed into the pylons was going to be enough of a challenge without having to worry about the rest of the team ending up in the water.
By the time Nate hit the water, his fingernails had hardened into claws, and he used them to tear the rest of his clothes off so he could finish the change. There was something euphoric about settling into his other form. He hadnât changed since before Sam was born, and it was like finally allowing himself to scratch an itch that had been burning its way through his skin.
There wasnât time to think about that though. Nate blinked his second eyelid closed, and the murky water sharpened into black and white, the fire above reflecting through the water in bright, washed-out streaks. He had to fight the chaotic currents rushing under the pier to stay still long enough to spot Eliot.
He had already been swept under the pier, probably already been driven into the pylons at least once, and was limp in the water. Nate flicked his tail and pushed into the current, using it to reach Eliot before he could be driven into the pylons again, but he wasnât able to get them clear of the pier before the next surge. The best he could do was curl around Eliot and turn them so his back hit the pylon instead of Eliot. He was going to be bruised, but it was better than Eliot hitting again.
He pushed hard across the current and surfaced a good four meters from the pier. Eliot started coughing as soon as they broke the surface. The shear relief of it left Nate drifting for a moment, Eliotâs head tipped back against his shoulder and the rip tide pulling them out. There was blood fanning across Eliotâs face from a cut at his temple, and he wasnât quite conscious, but he was breathing, and for now, that was enough.
Nate cut across the rip to escape it, then brought them into shore, doing his best to keep Eliotâs head above water, although there was no doubt he had breathed in more water by the time they reached the shore.
Changing back was not as easy or simple as the change to had been, but Nate had known it wouldnât be, known he couldnât deny his body something it had been craving for so long, then expect it to just let go of it so quickly again. It meant he had to drag Eliot up onto the beach with a tail, which was less than ideal and required more arm strength than he was used to using in either form, but he managed it.
He turned Eliot on his side in the sand as he continued to cough up water. Part of him wanted to leave him here for the team to find and make a break for it before they saw. Eliot was unlikely to remember anything, and Nate was sure he could make something up that would appease them. Then nothing would have to change. Â
Eliotâs eyes fluttered open, and he shifted fitfully, his whole body shaking with cold and shock.
âJust lie still,â Nate brushed the wet hair from his face with a webbed hand, âyouâre alright.â
Eliot blinked up at him, and Nate waited for the reaction, but Eliot just gave an unsurprised âohâ before another coughing fit had him curling back into himself.
Nate let out a sigh and rubbed his back. He couldnât wait to hear what âdistinctiveâ thing about him had tipped Eliot off to what he was.
Someone yelled his name, and he looked up to see three silhouettes, framed against the light of the burning pier and racing towards them. It was a relief to see them, but Nate couldnât help the unease as they got closer.
Parker reached them first, too focused on Eliot to pay much attention to Nate. She dropped down in the sand next to them, grabbing Eliotâs shoulder and shaking him in the Parker version of gentleness. Eliot batted at her weakly, but curled closer to her none-the-less. It wasnât until Nate brushed her hand away when she tried to poke Eliot that she finally looked up at him.
Nate braced himself for fear, or disgust, or any number of negative reactions, but her face lit up like sheâd just received a bag of non-sequentially numbered bills.
âYou have cool teeth!â she told him brightly.
Nateâs world snapped back into place and all the unease drained out of him.
âThank you, Parker,â he said drolly, just managing to not run his tongue over the points of his teeth.
âOh my,â Sophie stopped short as she reached them, and Hardison almost ran into her.
âWhat is it?â the hacker demanded anxiously, âis EliotâŚâ
Hardison trailed off, mouth open and eyes wide at the sight of Nateâs tail.
âNateâs a mermaid,â Parker announced gleefully.
âDo I look like a maid to you?â Nate groused.
âMaybe if you had a feather duster,â Sophie was giving him a look that said they would be having a long, unpleasant conversation later, âand a frilly little French smock.â
âMermaids are real?â Hardison sputtered.
âMerrow,â Eliot corrected hazily, then curled into another coughing fit.
Nate was never going to hear the end of this from any of them. The fast-approaching sirens were almost a relief.
âGet him out of here,â Nate helped Parker to sit Eliot up, âdonât let him tell you he doesnât need a hospital. Heâs got water in his lungs.â
Hardison ducked down and helped Parker get Eliot to his feet. He swayed unsteadily, and the two were quick to get his arms around their shoulders and take his weight.
âWhat about you?â Sophie gestured towards his tail.
âChanging back takes longer,â Nate made a shooing motion, âIâll catch up with you later.â
âYou promise?â Parker demanded, refusing to be dragged in the direction Hardison was trying to usher both her and Eliot, ânot like the little mermaid; you wonât turn into sea foam for loving humans?â
âNo, not like that,â Nate assured her with an eyeroll, âhurry up and get out of here so I can too.â
âBut you promise,â Parker refused to budge, âyouâll catch up later. You wonât disappear.â
âI promise,â Nate snapped, âgo already.â
Parker grinned and turned back to help Hardison with Eliot.
âDonât think I wonât send a trawler after you if I have to,â Sophie threatened, then turned to follow the rest of the team in the direction of the waiting van.
Nate didnât doubt she would, and that they would find him, but he didnât have any intention of making them do that. For now though, he pushed back into the water and let the waves carry him back out towards the open sea.
**********
âI canât believe you didnât tell us you were a mermaid,â Hardison hissed, voice low in a futile attempt to not wake Eliot.
âMerrow,â Eliot mumbled groggily.
Futile because Eliot wasnât sleeping. Exhausted, still feeling chilly if the truly ridiculous number of blankets piled on him were any indication, and a bit out of it from a not insignificant head injury, but not asleep, at least not at the moment.
âYou know, I googled that,â Hardison groused, âjust because Nate wears stupid hats all the time doesnât mean heâs some kind of Irish shape-shifting sea creature.â
Sophie snorted indelicately.
âThatâs notâŚâ Eliot started to protest, only to be cut off by Parker, which was probably for the best given how soar his throat sounded.
âYou canât have your hat back,â Parker pulled Nateâs hat down farther on her head; she must have picked it up after he dropped it at the pier, âjust in case.â
Eliot moved restlessly in his hospital bed, and Nate, sitting on the edge of it, dropped his hand down to pat the hitterâs wrist. He left his hand there, fingers resting lightly against Eliotâs pulse point.
âYou can keep the hat, Parker,â Nate said easily, âit looks good on you.â
Parker beamed at him from the foot of Eliotâs bed.
âItâs a con anyway,â Nate continued dismissively, âsomeone made it up centuries ago to trick fishermen and it stuck.â
âYou really are a merrow,â Hardison deflated, as if the reality of it had finally sunk in.
âYes, Nate,â Sophie sat back in the uncomfortable hospital chair regally, looking for all the world like a queen reigning over her court, âdo tell us about being a mythical sea creature.â
Parker leaned forward like a child eager for a bedtime story.
âWellâŚâ
Nate was interrupted by Eliot reaching up with his free hand to try to pull his oxygen cannulas off. Again. Nate caught his hand and lowered it back down to rest on his chest.
âLeave that be for now,â Nate gave his hand a pat.
âI donât want it,â Eliot shifted, movements agitated and unsure, as if he couldnât decide what he wanted to do, âwe should get out of here. It isnât safe.â
âIâve got it all taken care of, man,â Hardison reassured him patiently, âweâre safe.â
âSecurityâs notâŚâ Eliot started to protest.
âWeâre security,â Nate let his hand fall back to Eliotâs wrist and left it there, âweâll check in with the doctor this afternoon and reassess, alright?â
Eliot grumbled, but settled down again.
There was very little chance of Eliot being released before tomorrow. He was responding well to oxygen, and the CT had looked good, but he had been unconscious underwater, and that wasnât something any of them wanted to take lightly. He was having trouble focusing and keeping track of what was going on around him, and it wasnât because of the relatively mild pain meds he had been given.
Better to keep him where he could get the care he needed, at least while they could. Nate wasnât kidding about reassessing. If the situation changed, and they needed to go to ground, they had other resources they could tap into to make sure Eliot still got taken care of. For now, though, this was best.
âNate,â Parker was looking at him intently, âSophie said I should pick something besides money that I want for my birthday.â
Nate turned to face her, resigned to whatever was coming.
âI like gold and gems too,â Parker grinned, âshipwrecks have lots of gold and gems.â
Nate gave a long-suffering sigh, and pointedly ignored Sophie suppressing a snicker.
âIt wouldnât even be like stealing,â Parker pressed, âitâs not like anyone really owns it anymore.â
âThere are plenty of countries that would disagree with you on that,â Nate said dryly.
âOnly if they know we have it,â Parker shrugged, âso can we go diving for treasure for my birthday?â
âYou have to commit to a date for your birthday first, sweetheart,â Sophie pointed out, âalso, if weâre diving for treasure, there is the platinum reserves Spain dumped into the ocean in the 16th century. Probably not enough to make the expense of an actual expedition worth it, but if you could just swim to itâŚâ
âNo,â Nate said firmly, âabsolutely not. We are not treasure hunters.â
âBut we could be,â Hardison smiled impishly, âwe do need alternative revenues streams after all.â
âNot Spain,â Eliot murmured sleepily, ââs guarded.â
âBy what? A kraken?â Hardison scoffed, then paused, âwait, there isnât a kraken, is there?â
âNo,â Nate said firmly at the same time that Eliot said âyes.â
He glared at the hitter, who gave him a tired, shit-eating grin.
âItâs not a cephalopod,â Eliot looked far too pleased with the way Hardison started to sputter.
Nate pinched the bridge of his nose. At this rate, they were never going to get Hardison near the water again.
âYouâre making that up,â Hardison balked, âthere arenât sea monsters.â
âHow would you know?â Eliot countered, âyou donât even swim.â
Hardison opened his mouth to deny the accusation, but Nate interrupted him.
âWhat I want to know, is how you knew what I was,â he gave Eliot a curious look.
It would be good for him to know what had tipped Eliot off so he could fix it. The fewer people that could tell what he was, the better. Maggie had known, had seen him change once before they were married, but he hadnât wanted to split his life between two worlds. He had chosen the land, still chose the land. That remained where the things that mattered to him were.
âYou bled all over me when you were shot,â Eliot said, âyour blood is different than human blood. Itâs distinctive.â
Not something he could do anything about then, although it was interesting to him that Eliot hadnât bothered to say anything about it sooner. As with all the random and far-reaching knowledge Eliot had, Nate was caught between wanting to know how he knew and feeling it was probably best not to ask.
âThatâs just nasty,â Hardison grumbled.
âSo weâll go to South American, and Hardison and I will track down the shipwreck sites,â Parker continued as if she had never been interrupted, âyou can search the shipwrecks, and Eliot can help me update my dive certification.â
âWhatever you want, darling,â Eliot yawned.
âDo I get a say in this?â Nate asked.
âProbably not,â Sophie looked thoroughly amused.
âIt will be like a family vacation,â Parker grinned, clearly excited by the idea, âyou and Sophie keep saying Iâm supposed to try normal people things that I havenât done before.â
Nate knew a lost cause when he heard one. He sat back and listened to Hardison and Parker plan, keeping half an eye on Eliot as he finally drifted off to sleep. Â Sophie alternated between encouraging the pair with much too much enthusiasm and giving Nate thoughtful side glances. He was grateful she didnât push for more information. Not yet anyway.
He had told Maggie before he had proposed to her. It had seemed unfair not to. And Sam⌠Sam had been so young. Nate was never sure he really believed it was more than a fairy story. Maybe if he had lived longer⌠gotten to be older⌠who knew what could have happened, what potential had never been unlocked. It hurt to think about, made him want to reach for a bottle and try to forget all the things his son should have been, should have had.
Eliot reached for the cannulas in his sleep, and Nate caught his hand, bringing it back down to his side and holding onto it.
Nate had a future here. Different from the one he had so badly wanted, shaped by different tides, full of unexplored depths and currents, but still good. He was learning to live with that, slow though the process was. It wasnât the catastrophe he had always thought it would be, having them find out.
If the trade-off for this new future was the occasional treasure hunt, Nate could live with that.
*********
Parker continued to be non-committal about choosing a birthday, but there was a lovely 16th century gold and ruby pendent necklace tucked under the tree for her at Christmas.
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Mostly fluff and very little chaos.
Available also on AO3
*****
âCampingâ was a bribe directed almost exclusively at Eliot, and he was caught between feeling belligerent about the attempt to manipulate him, and touched that the team was worried about him. The last time they had had six weeks of downtime, Eliot had agreed to fill a favor he owed to a military contact and come back with a bullet hole in him and a broken arm.
The team had had strong opinions about that, and it was obvious, to Eliot at least, that they were trying to stop it from happening again. It left him feeling warm and looked after, even if he saw right through them. It wasnât as if he could say no once it was clear that the rest of the team had already agreed.
With Sophie and Hardison along for the ride it wouldnât be camping the way Eliot camped, not just the gear he could carry on his back and as much distance as his feet could put between himself and everyone else. Eliot could live with that. The rest of the team would have been miserable on a trip like that. Maybe not Parker. She might enjoy getting away from civilization for a while. It was something to plan for later, but not on this trip.
The huge, highly-customized, luxury RV was a bribe as well, mostly directed at Sophie, but Hardison had definitely designed the kitchen for him. Practical, compact, and outfitted with the best equipment available, Hardison had out done himself. It meant he listened when Eliot complained about poorly designed kitchens, and the hitter hadnât quite decided how he felt about that.
Parker, who Eliot suspected had masterminded the whole thing, had plotted a course for them through five major national parks, claiming she had never done the road trip thing, and she wanted to try it out. Eliot really needed to learn to say no to her when she looked at him like that, but at least Nate wasnât any better.
They were currently in Wyoming, en route to the Grand Tetons, and Eliot had abandoned the kitchen for an open fire and a cast iron skillet. He and Sophie had taken Parker fishing earlier in the day on the lake they were parked next to, and between the three of them, they had caught enough trout for dinner for everyone. Sophie had been surprisingly adept at catching them. Apparently, she had learned to fly fish on a con once. This required a different skill set, but there were enough similarities that she had picked it up quickly.
Sophie had snapped at least two dozen picture of Parker catching her first fish. It was hard to tell which of the women had been more excited about the accomplishment. Later, Eliot would palm Sophieâs phone to send himself a few of the best ones. It had been a great catch, after all.Â
Parker had been happy to learn how to gut and fillet a fish, at least until she had gotten distracted chasing Hardison around the camp with the entrails. Eliot had pointedly ignored Hardisonâs pleas for help, ginning to himself at Parkerâs cackling.
Nate finally put a stop to it when they almost knocked him out to his hammock. Eliot had used the threat of bears to get them to clean up any entrails that had been dropped and bury them.
Things were much quieter now that the two of them had gone for a late afternoon swim. Eliot had almost gone with them, but he wanted to get dinner cooked before it got too dark. Parker had them scheduled to be at this spot for another day, so there would be plenty of time for swimming tomorrow.
With Nate sprawled in a folding chair reading a crime novel that seemed to be about fraud at a major auction house (apparently Nate didnât get enough of that in his day to day life) and Sophie napping in the hammock with the latest issue of Jewelley Focus resting open on her chest where it had fallen when she had dozed off, this was the most peaceful the camp had been all day.
âSmells good,â Nate lowered his book to look over at Eliot.
Eliot had fried up what felt like a whole pigâs worth of bacon to put on the baked potatoes currently baking in the coals, and he was using the drippings to fry up the fish nice and crispy. As fresh as it was, it wouldnât need more than salt and pepper, maybe a little lemon when he served it up.
âShould be done in about 20 minutes,â he offered.
âYou think you could get used to this?â Nate put his book in his lap and leveled his attention at Eliot as if the answer was important.
âChasing all of you loons around and making sure you donât get yourselves killed?â Eliot quirked an eyebrow at him, âIâm pretty used to that.â
That wasnât really what Nate was asking, but the real answer was complicated. The truth was, Eliot loved this; he loved being able to spend time with his team; he loved being able to relax with them, and it was relaxing, restful in a way that he didnât get when they were working or apart between jobs. It settled something jagged and constantly shifting in his chest to know that they were close by and safe and happy.
There was an itch under his skin though, an itch under all their skin, that built and built until they had to do something about it. They just werenât made to rest for long. Not yet anyway. Someday though, maybeâŚ
âWell, practice makes perfect, and all that,â Nate grinned at him, as if he knew the real answer.
Eliot huffed softly and flipped the fillets over, listening contently to the pop and sizzle of them. Practice made perfect. Perfect shot, perfect punch, perfect fried fish. He was grateful to finally be in a place where he got to choose what he put his energy into practicing.
âGo drag the idiots out of the water,â Eliot said, âdinnerâs almost up.â
Nate got to his feet with an exaggerated groan and gave Eliotâs shoulder a hearty pat as he walked past him.
âFifty dollars says he ends up in the lake,â Sophie stretched lazily in the hammock.
âIâm not betting on a dead horse,â Eliot snorted.
Sophie gave him an amused look and extracted herself gracefully from the hammock, âIâll go grab drinks.â
Sophie hadnât even made it to the door when there was a yell from the direction of the lake. They both paused to look for the source, spotting the splash of water as Nateâs head surfaced.
âLooks like dinner might be a little late,â Sophie gave his shoulder a squeeze before heading into the RV.
Eliot had planned for that, of course. After all, practice makes perfect.
Leverage Writing Prompt #21
All my prompts so far have been pretty angsty/whumpy, so lets add some fluff into the mix!
The team takes some time off from working cons and goes on a camping trip. Chaos ensues.
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A longer than expected prompt fill. :)
[Now on AO3 too.]
******
Eliotâs eyes fluttered open to a dimly lit room, and he had only barely registered the unfamiliarity of the ceiling before he was rolling over and throwing up over the edge of the bed.
âEasy, El.â
A hand rubbed his back, and he flinched, startled by the feel of it on his bare skin. He tried to pull away, and there was the tell-tale tug of an IV line in his arm. He felt sluggish and disoriented, unsure of where he was, or how he had gotten there.
âEasy, man,â the hand shifted to his arm, rubbing up and down it, âweâve got you.â
âIs he okay?â
He was drugged, Eliot realized slowly, maybe still being drugged, and he needed to make it stop. He reached clumsily for the IV port in his arm.
âHey, now, letâs not do that again,â someone caught his wrist.
Panic surged through him when he couldnât pull his hand free, and he tried to scramble away from the person holding onto him.
âEliot, itâs okay,â a second set of hands gripped his shoulders, guiding him back down, âeverything is okay. Hardison, turn on the lamp, would you?â
Hands cradled his face and the grip on his wrists slid down to hold his hand as a soft glow came from the side. Eliot squinted up at the face hovering over him, and only slowly realized who it was.
âNate?â his voice sounded slurred and rough even to his own ears.
âThatâs right,â Nate reassured him, âyouâre safe, the team is safe, everything is okay.â
Hardisonâs face hovered in an equally disorienting haze to his side, and the hacker gave his hand a squeeze.
Eliot was definitely going to be sick again.
He rolled away from them, leaning over the edge of the bed to throw up. There wasnât much to bring up and the bile burned his throat.
âNo more drugs,â Eliot curled on his side when he was done, pressing his face into the cool fabric of his pillow, âtake it out.â
âNo drugs; itâs just saline in the IV,â Nate used a damp cloth to wipe Eliotâs face, âyou were drugged while you were helping Parker in the basement. The saline is to help flush it out of your system, although I think you would probably feel better if we got you on some anti-nausea meds soon.â
It was too many words for Eliot to make sense of, and Hardison had started stroking steady fingers through his hair, the touch soothing his frazzled nerves. He and Nate both seemed calm enough, so maybe everything was okay, butâŚ
âWhereâre Parker and Sophie?â he asked.
âParker was getting twitchy, so Sophie dragged her out find us some dinner,â Nate patted his shoulder, âEveryone is safe, donât worry. Just try to get some rest. It will help you feel better.â
Eliot nodded muzzily and closed his eyes, listening as Nate and Hardisonâs voices drifted in and out of the static in his head.
ââŚtalk to Dr. BaâŚâ
ââŚIâll go clean-upâŚâ
ââŚstay with himâŚâ
Stay with him. Please, stay with him. He didnât want to be alone like this. Not again.
âShh, youâre alright,â Hardison pulled the blanket up around his shoulders, âIâm not going anywhere.â
Eliot felt like that shouldnât have been enough, but it was. He drifted off to the feel of Hardisonâs hand rubbing up and down his arm, rhythmic like the rocking of a cradle.
********
Eliot woke to someone grabbing his hand and found himself laying practically nose to nose with Parker. He blinked at her stupidly for a moment, wondering why in the world she was laying there watching him sleep. He was so exhausted, he almost didnât want to ask.
âHi,â Parker whispered after a moment.
âHi,â Eliot murmured back, his throat feeling dry and cracked.
âAre you awake awake or asleep awake?â Parker asked, pulling his hand closer to her.
âWhat?â Eliot was confused by Parker so often that he only belated realized his thoughts were processing slower than usual.
âYou keep trying to pull out your IV,â Parker said as if that was an explanation, âif I let go of your hand to get you a glass of water, will you leave it in?â
He frowned at her, trying to figure out why he was even on an IV. If it was what was making it so hard to focus, he was definitely not leaving it in.
âI donât need it,â he said, ending in a cough when the words caught in his throat.
âYes, you do,â Parker laced her fingers between his and squeezed just a little too tightly.
There was something comforting in the pressure, something grounding in the discomfort of just a little bit too much force on his joints.
âYou need the fluids to help get the drugs out of your system, and so you donât get dehydrated,â Parker said before he could start to argue with her, âand you were throwing up a bunch before the doctor started giving you Zofran.â
Eliot stared at her, trying to piece together her explanation, but he couldnât. Every time he almost had it, it slipped away again.
âI donât understand,â he finally rasped, repeating back to Parker what she had so often said to him.
âThatâs okay,â Parker pressed a kiss to his knuckles, âjust donât pull the IV out while I get you water, then Iâll explain it again.â
That seemed reasonable enough, and he was really thirsty, so he nodded. She gave his hand another too tight squeeze, then let it go, but she didnât actually go anywhere, much to his relief. Instead, she sat up and reached to the side, grabbing a glass off the side table, then helping him to sit up as well.
He was decisively unsteady and ended up slumped against Parkerâs shoulder while she held the glass for him. It was irritating and frustrating and she wouldnât let him drink more than a few sips at a time. He did finally get enough to sooth his dry throat though, and by then he was so dizzy and tired all he could do was rest against Parker, head on her shoulder and her hair tickling his ear annoyingly.
He felt terrible, and he couldnât keep track of everything that was going on. He didnât even know where they were. It didnât look like a hospital or a hotel, and he didnât recognize any of the furniture as belonging to his teammates.
âWhere are we?â it didnât hurt to talk anymore, but the words felt slow on his tongue and sounded slurred in his ears.
âThis is one of Hardisonâs safe houses,â Parker rested her cheek against his hair, âit was the closest to where we were. He says youâre not allowed to complain about the kitchen when youâre feeling better because âthe world is a better place when I donât use a stove.ââ
She did a fair impersonation of Hardison, and Eliot couldnât help but smile. He shifted against her to get more comfortable and felt the tug of the IV again. He didnât care if Parker thought he needed it; he didnât like being drugged. Heâd rather just deal with whatever was wrong with him. He reached over to pull it out again.
âNo, it has to stay,â Parker caught his hand again, pulling it away to hold against his chest.
âI donât want it,â the whine in his voice surprised even him, âI donât want the drugs.â
âThere arenât any drugs in the IV,â Parker told him patiently, something in her tone indicating that this wasnât the first time she had told him this, âitâs saline. You got drugged on the job. I tazed the guy who did it in the balls.â
âIâm so proud,â Eliot kind of meant it, but there was also a giggle threatening to work its way out of his throat, and he had to tuck his face against Parkerâs shoulder to keep it in.
âThanks!â Parker said brightly, âNate called his friend, Dr. Todd Burgerking, or something, to come make sure you were okay. Hardison made sure he wasnât a weirdo before he let him come over. Dr. Burgermeister said the drug would just have to run its course, but you need lots of fluids to help flush it out and so you donât get dehydrated. Heâs also been giving you Zofran because you kept throwing up, but that seemed okay, because you take that sometimes anyway.â
Zofran was okay, saline was okay, although he still didnât like the IV. He would have really liked to have seen Parker taze the guy, though.
âDo you want some toast or soup?â Parker asked, âthatâs what people eat when they donât feel good, right?â
Eliot shook his head, and it made him dizzy, âI just want to lay down and sleep a little longer.â
âDr. Hamburger said that sleep would help,â Parker nodded sagely.
She helped him lay back down and tucked the blankets around him, careful not to tangle the IV line in them. Then she settled herself back down next to him, laying down nose to nose with him again. He felt like maybe he should be complaining about being stared at, but his last thought before he fell back to sleep was that it was nice to have someone watching out for him.
********
There was a hand resting on his head and a solid line of warmth against his back. He was comfortably curled up in a nest of soft blankets, and for a while he just laid there with his eyes closed, listening. He could hear the low murmur of a TV in another room, the sound of water running and dishes clinking somewhere in the place, two sets of breathing, one on each side of him, the occasional rustle of a magazine page being turned.
He felt safe. The little snort every four of five breaths meant the person at his back was Hardison, and Sophie was the only person on the team who actually read magazines. He had no idea why they were both sharing a bed with him, but it wasnât even close to the weirdest sleeping arrangement he had woken up to since joining the team. At least it wasnât Parker trying to string a hammock between the bedpost so she could sleep above him.
He was tempted to go back to sleep, but he was hungry and his skin had the particular clammy, grimy feel that meant he could really use a shower. He blinked his eyes open, and the hand on his head smoothed his hair back from his eyes.
âHow are you feeling, sweetheart?â Sophie asked softly.
She was sitting against the headboard beside him, magazine in her lap, and looking down at him like there was a reason she needed to ask.
Eliot wracked his brain for why that would be, but the last thing he remembered was repelling down an elevator shaft with Parker to get to a basement vault room. That he couldnât remember where he was or how he had gotten there was something of a red flag. He took stock of himself, but aside from being a bit groggy and soar, he felt okay.
âFine?â Eliot pushed himself upright, âwhy wouldnât I be?â
He eyed the bandaids on both his forearms. The location was very distinctive, and he scowled down at them.
âYou pulled the first IV out,â Sophie said, which did sound like something he would do, âdo you remember anything?â
Eliotâs first instinct was to try to bluff his way through the answer, to not make it seem like he had lost time, but there was no reason to. Whatever had happened, Sophie obviously already knew and wasnât going to use it against him with any malicious intent.
âLast thing I remember was getting down to the basement with Parker,â Eliot picked one of the bandaids off and eyed the red spot; that was probably the one he pulled out. Â
âDr. Bamberger said you might not remember much,â Sophie studied him thoughtfully.
He had a vague memory of Parker talking about a Dr. Hamburger, but dismissed it as nonsense.
âDid the job go okay?â he frowned at her, unable to tell if this was just Sophie being her slightly cagey self or if something bad had actually happened.
âThe job is done and everyone is fine,â she reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, âweâll fill you in on the rest once youâre more awake and have had a chance to eat something.â
That was probably all he was going to get out of her for right now, so Eliot let it go. Food and coffee seemed like an outstanding idea at the moment, and he really did want a shower. He shooed her out of the way so he could get up without climbing over her and flipped his blanket over Hardison, who didnât so much as stir.
âWhatâs with him?â Eliot gestured to the sleeping hacker over his shoulder, choosing to ignore Sophieâs aborted attempt to take his arm as he stood, as if she expected him to be unsteady.
âHe was sitting up with you before I came in and was too lazy to go somewhere else to sleep,â Sophie gave the snoring lump an amused look.
Eliot decided he definitely needed coffee before he let himself think more deeply on the idea of the team taking turns keeping watch over him.
âIâm going to take a shower, then get some coffee,â Eliot ran a hand through his hair.
âNate must be on his third pot by now. Iâll tell him to save you some,â Sophie leaned in and kissed his temple, âIâm glad youâre feeling better.â
âThanks,â Eliot said, still feeling a bit bewildered.
He watched her leave the room, then glanced back at Hardisonâs sleeping form. It had been a long time since he had had anyone to look after him when he was out⌠and it didnât feel that bad. It felt like something he could get used to, which was a dangerous thing.
They did dangerous well as a team though, so maybe that was something he could live with.
Leverage Writing Prompt #13
This was inspired by @deanwinchesterswitchâs post linked here.
Eliot ends up drugged (consensual or non-consensual) and the team offers their comfort and care. When he awakens/becomes slightly more lucid, he does not know where he is at first. Plenty of hurt/comfort from the rest of the team!
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Iâve actually been thinking about this one lately, not just the impact of pretending to go back to being a hitman, but the impact of actually killing quite a few people in the warehouse.
I really think he stopped working as a hitman / enforcer because he mentally and emotionally couldnât do it anymore. Whatever he was doing for Monroe, it was what eventually tipped the scale for him and forced him to find new ways to apply his skills.
So going back to that, both in a pretend way with Atherton and for real in the warehouse, couldnât have been good for his mental health.
But by the time they get to San Lorenzo, Eliot is super stressed, but heâs on a pretty even keel, and thereâs something almost protective about the way Nate set the San Lorenzo job up to make sure that Monroe would never ever get anywhere even remotely close to Eliot, and the way he paired him up with Parker for most of the job so he wasnât really ever alone and was kept mostly out of sight (except for the puppy thing - and the puppy thing was perfect).
All of which is to say, interesting team things that most likely involved some lovely hurt/comfort probably happened between the two episodes, so Iâm reblogging this here under prompts in the hopes of getting back to it someday.
Leverage Writing Prompt #10
During The Big Bang Job, Eliot is required to pretend to kill Atherton in order to progress the con on Moreau. What were the repercussions of him having to relive the darkest time in his life? How did his struggles manifest themselves as the Moreau debacle progressed? Did the team notice, and if so, what did they do to help Eliot?
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Title: Winter Break
Fandom: Leverage
Summary: The team find themselves snowed in in a little town in the middle of nowhere.
Ch 3: Hope itâs Hallmark - The team reaches the cabin, and Hardison tries to figure out what genre of movie they're currently participating in.
Authorâs Note: I might have to steal Hardison's line about the worse kind of horror move to use as a title for a Leverage ghost story someday.
You can go here to read this on AO3 instead.
Hardison knew why the light took on a red tint at night when it snowed, knew how light refraction worked, even knew the right equations to calculate the wavelengths. He still thought it was the stuff of horror movies.
âMaybe we should have slept in the airport,â he grumbled, squinting through the snowfall at the dark cabin.
Eliot stirred on his shoulder, shifting around enough that it must have jarred something, because Hardison felt him suppress a flinch before lifting his head muzzily and rubbing a hand over his face.
Hardison had lost the argument with Nate over who was driving, leaving him to switch places with the mastermind as the designated Eliot pillow. As much as he had argued, once they got going he was glad not to be the one at the wheel. The roads had been terrible, and it had taken them three times as long as it should have to get to the cabin. They had almost gotten stuck on the long drive leading up to it.
Somehow, Eliot had managed to sleep through the majority of the trip. Hardison would have loved to have said that gave him the warm fuzzies, because Eliot was not a man who gave his trust easily, but mostly it just made him worry that the hitterâs injuries were significantly worse than he had let on.
âWe here?â Eliot asked groggily.
âYeah,â Nate turned in the driverâs seat to look back at them, âSophie and I will help Parker do a security check. You stay in the car with Hardison.â
Eliot tensed up against Hardisonâs shoulder, like he was going to protest, then huffed out an irritated breath and dropped his head back down.
Hardison gave Nate a pointed look, gesturing towards Eliot with the arm that wasnât slung around the hitters shoulders.
âHeâs fine,â Nate reassured him, âthe meds just took enough of the edge off for him to sleep.â
Hardison opened his mouth to argue, but Parker chose that moment to climb over all the bags and groceries piled up in the back and haul open the side door of the van. The open door let in a burst of cold wind and snow, and Hardison curled away from it, ducking his face against Eliotâs beanie.
��Iâm going to pick the lock,â Parker announced cheerfully and hopped out of the van, closing the door behind her.
âParker, I have the key code,â Sophie pulled her hat hastily down over her ears and followed her out into the snow.
âI think supervision might be in order,â Nate pulled his own hat on, âsit tight. Weâll be back to unload after we check everything.â
Nate let in another burst of cold when he opened the door, and it didnât escape Hardisonâs notice that he locked the car behind him. Eliotâs paranoia was rubbing off on everyone, it seemed.
Hardison wanted to grumble and complain, or at the very least, narrate what was obviously the start of the worst kind of horror movie, namely the kind that they had to participate in, but Eliotâs breathing had evened back out into sleep, and he didnât want to risk waking him.
The only light besides the eerie red snow reflection was the headlights of the van pointed at the front porch. The porch was high enough that the beams hit Parker and Sophie at the knees. It looked like there was some kind of problem with both the lock and the lock box, and they seemed to be struggling with getting either of them open.
Nate was standing to the side of them on the porch, just outside the narrow beam of light. He was hunched against the cold, shooting the occasional furtive glance at the dark trees ringing the cabin. This was the part of the movie where the monster sprang out of the forest and ate the idiots stupid enough to venture out into the open.
Although, they were still pretty early into the film. They had only just gotten to the cabin, and they had yet to run into any cooky locals who regaled them with stories of the monster or ancient tomes that conveniently fell into their laps warning them of the beast. This early in the film, they would get the door open just in the nick of time, slamming it in the monsterâs face as they scrambled to safety.
Leaving he and Eliot in the car to be eaten.
Monsters lurking in the dark seemed a lot more possible with their resident monster slayer not at his best. Hardison didnât care what Nate said, it wasnât like Eliot to just fall asleep when they were somewhere weird and unsecured. Excessive sleepiness was a sign of head injury.
Or blood loss, or severe inflammation, or internal bleeding, or some other weird medical condition. Or, the rational part of his brain pointed out, barely sleeping at all the last week because the job had not got smoothly. Short of someone dying, everything that could have gone wrong had gone wrong. And yet, the bad guy had been beaten and the client was sufficiently safe and cared for. So they would count it as a win. Unless Eliot had a brain bleed or something. Then that definitely canceled out the win.
Parker got the door open finally, and Hardison watched through the front windshield, holding his breath as Parker stepped into the dark cabin, followed by Nate, then Sophie. It felt like it took hours, but suddenly the porch lights flipped on, and a warm glow lit up the front windows, reflecting golden sparks off the falling snow.
Hardison let out his breath, glad to find they had made the transition from b-level horror movie to hallmark Christmas special. Too bad Christmas had been like a month ago. Still, if they didnât run into a Christmas tree farmer with an emo past who turned out to secretly be Santaâs long lost son, Hardison was going to be disappointed.
Eliot stirred again, turning his face into Hardisonâs shoulder to escape the cold that was leaching into the van now that the engine was off. Hardison drew him in closer and rested his cheek on top of Eliotâs head.
âNo brain bleeds,â he murmured into Eliotâs beanie, âwe have rules about things like that.â
âWhoâs bleeding?â Eliot mumbled into Hardisonâs jacket.
âNo one,â Hardison reassured him, âas long as youâre not.â
Eliot seemed to consider that for a moment before shaking his head and settling again, ânot right now.â
âYou know, El,â Hardison grumbled, âanswers like that are why we worry about you all the time.â
He pressed a kiss to the top of Eliotâs head and went back to watching the porch through the front windshield. The longer the others took inside, the more things felt like they were sliding back into b-movie territory.
Hardison knew what they were doing. They ran perimeter and security checks on every place they stayed. Usually Eliot did them, but if he was already busy doing something else for the job, Parker would take care of it. She had the dubious distinction of being the second most paranoid member of the team. She also had a vast and impressive understanding of how building security worked, or how it didnât work, since figuring out how to get in and out of places was both her job and her favorite pastime.
She had already been applying that to her own safety when the team had come together, and it had only taken a few conversations with Eliot for her to see how to apply it to assessing the security of wherever the team was staying. If she said the cabin was good, Eliot would be satisfied with it.
Hardison would sweep for bugs and any other tech weirdness once they got their gear inside. Hopefully, if everything came back clear from both he and Parker, Eliot would feel safe enough to get some rest and actually take care of his ânot bleeding right nowâ self.
Right around the time Hardison started thinking they were going to freeze to death instead of get eaten by a monster, the rest of the team finally came out of the cabin. Parker hopped down the steps, landing two footed in snow that came up to her mid-calf, then turned to head to the corner of the building, taking exaggeratedly large steps through the snow drifts. Nate followed her, walking like a normal person and hunched against the snow and wind.
Sophie left them to it, coming back to the van. She pulled open the side door, letting in a gust of snow and wind. Eliot sat up with a start, blinking blurrily at Sophie and the open van door.
âEverything looks good inside,â Sophie smiled, âNate and Parker are just going to do a quick walk around the outside, but we can start unloading.â
âTook you long enough,â Hardison grumbled, sliding out of the van.
He pulled his scarf up over his mouth and nose and stepped aside to let Eliot out.
âThe lock and lockbox were both frozen,â Sophie shrugged, âit took some fiddling from Parker to get it open, then she had to open every door in the place and climb the banister railing, for some reasonâ
âSheâs Parker,â Eliot shrugged and started reaching for the nearest bag, âshe hasnât really seen something until sheâs climbed it.â
âPeople who donât tell us theyâre hurt donât get to carry in bags,â Sophieâs tone indicated that this was a punishment, somehow, âgo inside and get warmed up. We've got this.â
âThat doesnât make any sense,â Eliot grumbled at her, but he left the bags and headed towards the cabin anyway.
Hardison watched Eliot go up the porch steps, then turned to Sophie, who was pulling bags out of the back row.
âHe didnât even argue,â Hardison hissed.
âLet him get some food and sleep,â Sophie shoved an armful of grocery bags at him, âthen worry.â
âThat is not how worry works,â Hardison complained as he trudged through the snow to the cabin.
******
Sophie grabbed Eliotâs bags from the back seat first, almost over balancing with the weight of the duffel before she managed to get it over her shoulder. What did that man pack and why couldnât he put it in two or three bags that didnât weigh as much as an elephant instead of cramming it all in one?
She passed Hardison as he was trudging back to the van. He started to reach for the bags she was carrying, but she waved him on. It was in Hardisonâs nature to worry constantly, and there was something endearing about that, but worrying wasnât going to get Eliot settled and resting. Maybe even sleeping if the ride here was any indication.
She dumped Eliotâs bags on the bed in the back bedroom, the one farthest from both doors. The blankets on the bed were a bit light for how cold it was, but they had cranked up the heat as soon as they had gotten inside, and everything was starting to warm up. She would get Parker to help her hunt down the extra blankets the owner had told her were here later.
First though, Sophie had a hitter to cajole into bed.
She dug through Eliotâs bag until she found his stash of ice packs, then headed to the kitchen. She was not at all surprised to find Eliot there, poking half-heartedly through cupboards and peering into the grocery bags piled precariously on the counter. He was holding his left arm stiff and close to his body and moving slow, but at least he was carrying around a water bottle, and looked to have drunk about half of it already.
âAt least the stove is gas,â Eliot grumbled, even as he gave the knife block a disgusted look, âif we lose power weâll still be able to have hot meals.â
âI hadnât even thought of losing power,â Sophie admitted, âwe might have to give the fireplace a once over to make sure itâs safe to use.â
Eliot glanced over the breakfast bar into the living room where a large stone fireplace had pride of place across from a comfortable, if dusty, looking couch,
âIâllâŚâ
âYouâll go take a shower,â Sophie nudged him away from the counter so she could start putting groceries away.
âLater,â Eliot shook his head stubbornly, âeveryoneâs got to be hungry, and I should get something started.â
He started to pull open grocery bags, and Sophie shooed him away again, âweâll take care of dinner.â
Eliot gave her a dubious look.
âNate will take care of dinner,â Sophie corrected, âheâll enjoy it. It will remind him of his prison days.â
âWhat am I doing?â Nate asked, dumping a pile of luggage in the middle of the living room.
âMaking dinner,â Sophie supplied.
âYeah, sure,â Nate paused to give the kitchen a once over before trudging back out the front door for more bags.
âSo go take a shower,â Sophie pushed him in the direction of the bedrooms and bathroom with a hand on the small of his back, âyouâll feel better, and I wonât feel guilty about using all the hot water when I take mine.â
âYou never feel guilty about that,â Eliot groused, but he headed in the direction of the bedrooms.
âYour bags are in the second bedroom,â Sophie called after him.
She watched long enough to see him duck into the room, then turned back to the kitchen, trying to decide if actually getting Eliot to take a shower instead of haul luggage entitled her to not spend the next quarter hour trudging through the snow to unload the van.
Probably not. The sooner they could get everything inside and everyone out of the awful weather, the better.
Sophie pulled her scarf up around her nose and ears and headed back into the snow.
******
âIâm hungry,â Parker announced, âSophie said youâd make us dinner.â
She was sitting cross-legged on the breakfast bar because Eliot was still in the shower and couldnât tell her not to.
âOnce we get the groceries put away, Iâll put something together,â Nate tossed her a box of cereal without bothering to look at what it was.
Parker pulled it open and was delighted to find it was the kind with the grainy rainbow marshmallows. She had no idea where the spoons were, so she started eating it by the handful.
âWe should do something about the doors,â Parker said with her mouth full, which wasnât as fun when Eliot wasnât there to shoot her disgusted looks.
âWhat about the doors?â Nate asked absently as he started pulling everything out of the fridge that Sophie and Hardison had stuffed into it.
Sophie was giving him that funny look that she had said meant he was being a micromanaging jerk. Parker thought that was a useful thing to be able to do most times, but she didnât like it when he tried to micromanage her, so Sophie maybe had a point when she complained about it.
It seemed mostly useful right now though and meant they would be able to fit more stuff in the fridge.
âThey were too easy to open,â she told Nate.
âIâll get everything alarmed once I finish setting my stuff up,â Hardison said from where he was unpacking his electronics and starting to set them up on the coffee table in front of the fireplace.
Sophie had told him he couldnât use the big table near the kitchen because they needed somewhere to sit and eat, and he was still sulking about it. Parker hadnât told him yet that there was a big desk up in the sleeping loft, because she hadnât decided yet if she wanted to share the loft.
âI think the blizzard is going to be pretty good security for us,â Nate didnât look up from his efforts to use the fridge space as efficiently as possible.
âWe got here through it,â Parker shrugged.
âWell, we are rather exceptional,â Sophie offered, âand we barely made it here, but what do you have in mind?â
Parker considered the options. The front door and the back door both pushed inward, so the easiest way to secure them would be to put something heavy in front of them to block them from opening, but they would have to do it in a way that didnât mess up Hardisonâs alarm system. It would be good to do something about the downstairs windows too. They were easy to access and would be easy for someone to break into, but they were also easy exits for the team if they needed to leave in a hurry.
She would usually ask Eliot what he thought, but he was hurt and tired and would come up with better ideas after he got some sleep.
âI think after Hardison gets his system set up we should reinforce the doors,â Parker decided, âthen maybe try to do something to secure the downstairs windows.â
âWhy donât we just stick a chair under the door knobs for tonight,â Nate finally turned away from the fridge, having managed to fit everything that needed to be refrigerated in it, âwe can do a more thorough job of securing the place tomorrow. It looks like weâre going to be here a couple days, at least.â
Parker nodded her agreement and shoved another handful of cereal in her mouth.
âHow do we feel about spaghetti for dinner?â Nate asked, âI think I saw green beans and cherry tomatoes around here somewhere that we can have as a side.â
âI got some of that garlic bread you just toss in the oven too,â Hardison had moved on from connecting cables to actually sitting and working on his laptop, an assortment of small sensors and cameras spread out on the table in front of him.
âGreat,â Nate said briskly, then looked back to Parker, âwhat kind of sauce do you want?â
He gestured to the four jars of pasta sauce lined up on the counter with the other pantry goods that hadnât been put away yet. There was extra cheesy alfredo, basil marinara, vodka, and four cheese marinara. Sophie and Hardison hadnât been able to decide, so Parker had dumped them all in the cart. None of them were going to be as good as Eliotâs.
âThat one,â Parker pointed to the alfredo; it was white like marshmallows even if it tasted nothing like them.
âDone,â Nate said, then guided Sophie out of the kitchen area with a hand on her back, âwe can finish putting the rest of this away after we eat. Go somewhere else so I can cook.â
Sophie huffed, but went to sit on the couch next to Hardison. He handed her the remote to the flat screen tv hung over the fireplace, and she flipped on the weather channel, which seemed a little silly to Parker. It was snowing; they knew it was snowing.
Parker watched Nate in the kitchen for a while while she munched on her cereal. Watching Nate cook wasnât at all like watching Eliot cook. When Eliot cooked he was focused on the food and he noticed everything about it. He was always tasting things and adjusting things as he went. Parker liked to watch him cook because he always seemed like he was happy, or at least that cooking made him feel better when he wasnât.
It wasnât like that with Nate. Nate just made food. He didnât seem to dislike doing it, but it wasnât anything special to him. His food wasnât terrible, but it didnât taste like Eliotâs. It didnât taste like it mattered a lot to him, and he wanted it to matter a lot to them. Â
Parker heard the water shut off in the bathroom and closed up her cereal, then hopped down from the breakfast bar. She left her cereal on the counter; she could always come back and hide all the boxes of cereal where she wanted them later.
**********
Eliot did feel better after taking a shower, and after giving the diclofenac time to kick in, and after dozing most of the way to the cabin, and he was kind of disgruntled about it. Had his flight not been rerouted twice and the safety of the team abruptly called into question, he would have done all those things much sooner and in the safety of one of his boltholes without anyone else to worry about.
As it was, he was still tired and achy, but at least he felt like he was tracking better. He was content to let the team struggle through figuring out dinner without him, but he did want a better look at the layout of the cabin before he tried to get a little more sleep. There were always things that needed to be taken care of when they first got into a space, especially with Eliot still feeling uneasy about how they had ended up there.
Parker was sitting at the foot of the bed his bags had been on, scribbling away in one of her notebooks. Eliotâs bags had been tossed haphazardly in a corner, but a clean hoodie and a pair of mis-matched wool socks were laying on the bed.
Eliot almost went to find the matching socks, but he was tired still and digging through his bag after Parker had rearranged it probably wasnât the best use of his limited energy right now.
âDo you want to hear about the cabin?â Â Parker asked, turning her notebook so he could see her detailed sketch of the cabinâs layout.
âSure,â Eliot sat heavily on the edge of the bed and pulled his socks on; at least they were the same type of sock even if the colors were different.
The heat had gone a long way towards loosening up his shoulder, but he should probably get some ice on it soon. He would have to dig his ice packs out of his bag at some point so he could get them in the freezer.
âThere are two doors, the front one we came through and one half way down the side of the house the fireplace is on. It goes out to the back porch. I donât think the locks on them are very good, but Nate said we could stick a chair under the handles for tonight and fix them tomorrow. There are seven windows downstairs, double pane, latch locks that are really flimsy, but we donât have anything to change them out with. Hardison is putting up cameras and sensors tonight thoughâŚâ
Eliot shrugged into his hoodie and gave into the urge to lay back against the pillows while Parker talked. She was always thorough with building layouts and security weaknesses, and there was only so much they could do tonight anyway. Hardisonâs security systems were always good, and he knew how to maximize the coverage of any space, although the snow and ice were probably going to cause problems for any cameras or sensors he wanted to set up outside.
â...from the outside it looks like thereâs a crawl space under the cabin, but I couldnât find any way into it from the inside, and Nate wouldnât let me go into it from the outside. He said Iâd get too wet or dirty or something, which is kind of stupid because I have clothes and a shower in here,â Parker kept going.
âItâs not good to get wet in this kind of weather, even if you think it will only be for a little bit,â Eliot murmured, âwe can take a better look at it tomorrow when itâs light out.â
He really was tired, and there was something soothing about listening to Parker go through every detail of the building; it wouldnât hurt if he closed his eyes for just a minute or two while he listened.
**********
Parker grinned when she saw Eliotâs eyes close, but she finished telling him about the sleeping loft before she stopped talking. His breathing was deep and even, and it looked like he really was asleep.
When he didnât push her away while she was covering him with a blanket, she knew he really was asleep. She kissed him on the cheek the way Sophie did sometimes and turned out the light on her way out of the room.
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Title: Winter Break
Fandom: Leverage
Summary: The team find themselves snowed in in a little town in the middle of nowhere.
Ch 2: Fussing - Nate has to choose between supervising a shopping spree or supervising a grumpy hitter. He definitely chooses the lesser evil.
Authorâs Note: I still donât know where this story is going or when the next update will be.Â
Many, many thanks to @whumpybliss for beta reading this chapter!
You can go here to read this on AO3 instead.
"I know what you're trying to do."
Eliot's glare was less impressive than usual, but Nate still would have bet his money on him. Not that he wouldn't always bet on Eliot, and with things much more valuable to him than money.
"Trying to get you to eat saltines, so you don't throw up when you take the prescription strength anti-inflammatories I know you have in your bag?" Nate waved the open sleeve of crackers in front of the hitter.
"Stop fussing," Eliot snapped and snatched the sleeve out of Nate's hand.
Now that Parker had pointed it out, Nate could clearly see Eliot was favoring his left arm. Or, possibly because Parker had pointed it out, Eliot was putting less effort into hiding it.
"They shouldn't be in there alone," Eliot pulled a few crackers out of the sleeve and shoved it back at Nate.
"They're not alone," Nate swapped the sleeve for a water bottle from the grocery bag at his feet, "they have each other. We might be living off of orange soda and Trix for the next two weeks, but I think they'll get each other out of the store in one piece."
Eliot gave him a dubious look but refrained from talking with his mouth full.
"Anyway, I'm listening," Nate tapped the comm he had slipped into his ear.
"Where's my�" Eliot frowned and tried to reach behind the seat for his bag, wincing hard at the twisting motion.
"Stop it," Nate thumped his side lightly with the back of his hand, "I've got them. Parker hasn't managed to convince Sophie that Froot Loops are both a vegetable and a fruit. Sophie is giving her tips on being persuasive, and Hardison doesn't know the difference between a zucchini and a cucumber, but one of them has made it into the basket."
"How have they made it this far without dying of malnutrition?" Eliot let his head flop back against the headrest.
"Cereal is fortified," Nate said dryly and poked Eliot with the water bottle, "which bag are your meds in?"
"It can wait until we get to the cabin," Eliot grabbed the offending bottle away without opening his eyes.
Nate didn't have to wrangle an injured Eliot often. Most of the time, he was more than capable of managing his own injuries. When he wasn't, Nate usually let Parker take the lead in poking and prodding while he helped Hardison track down whatever medical help their hitter needed.
Parker needed to burn off some energy, though, and Nate would rather supervise a cranky Eliot than his team on a shopping spree. He had trailed Eliot through the first aid aisle, listened to him mutter over spices and knives on the baking aisle, and then dragged him back to the van with saltines and water bottles in hand.
"Just take the anti-inflammatory," Nate argued, "it won't make you drowsy, and the longer you wait, the less well they'll work."
"Stop. Fussing." Eliot growled, somehow managing to drink his water angrily.
Nate was always impressed by how Eliot could make the most mundane tasks look threatening. Luckily for him and the rest of the team, Nate was not easily intimidated.
"Just for the sake of argument..." Nate started.
"No," Eliot said flatly.
"We're stuck in the car until Hardison picks a shampoo. Humor me," Nate ignored Hardison's protests over the comm about his sensitive scalp.
"They need to hurry," Eliot groused, 'the snow is getting worse."
"Right," Nate agreed and held the sleeve of saltines out to Eliot again. He was disproportionately pleased when the hitter grabbed a few more without protest, "so let's just say there really is some shadowy figure waiting behind the curtain to get usâŚ"
Eliot raised an eyebrow at that, probably cross-checking his mental list of people who matched that description, but Nate ignored him.
"And they orchestrated stranding the five us in this specific tiny town, in the middle of nowhere, by waiting until we were both split up on five different planes, and there was a massive storm front to force our flights hereâŚ"
"Look, I knowâŚ" Eliot rubbed his eyes tiredly.
"Which is possible," Nate continued to ignore him, "highly unlikely, but possible. After all, shady figures are usually good at seizing opportunity when they see it. So let's say all of that is true. What's their next move? Where do they expect us to be?"
Eliot frowned before reluctantly admitting, "They expect us to be stranded, at the airport or one of the hotels."
"Right," Nate nodded, "and even if they somehow anticipated us renting a summer house, it would be almost impossible to control which summer house we rented. Hardison must have skimmed through a half dozen search pages worth before we went after this one."
Eliot's frown deepened as he worked the problem and thought how he would have managed something like this from the other side. Nate let him be for a minute because he was still eating crackers while he thought, seemingly without noticing.
"There are ways they could stack the deck in their favor," he finally said slowly. "Knowing what we would want in a place to lay low, making it available even though it looked unavailable, monitoring Hardison for the search criteria he was using, then populating it with multiple properties that they have control of."
"Possible," Nate conceded, "ridiculously elaborate and unnecessarily complicated, but possible."
"So, one of your plans, basically," Eliot snorted.
"I don't have the patience to wait on mother nature," Nate let the jab slide, "my point is, the best thing we can do in this situation is not be where we're most likely to be. The rest, we'll just have to deal with as it comes."
"I know that. It's justâŚ" Eliot just looked worn out now, tired of having to run through every scenario and possibility for every given moment.
Nate had figured out fairly early on that Eliot's paranoia was rooted in both a lot of experience and a lot of trauma. It meant they would be idiots to ignore him when he said something was wrong (and Nate had, unfortunately, been that idiot on more than one occasion, although he tried not to be these days), but they also needed to be a second check on those things for him sometimes, because he could always work his way around to those perceived threats being possible, even if they weren't probable.
It had gotten a lot better over the years, and the team had gotten better at finding ways to help him deal with it when it did come up. There was never a perfect solution, but they were more than happy to settle for an imperfect one if it made things at least a little better.
"And we'll deal with everything a lot better if you just take your diclofenac," Nate cut him off again, "so what bag is it in?"
"Duffel," Eliot conceded defeat finally, "they really do need to hurry."
"I know," Nate turned around and started sifting through the bags they had tossed into the third row of seats, "they're almost done."
Parker had been sitting in the back row, and she had rearranged the luggage that hadn't fit in the trunk to make a nest of sorts for herself around the middle seat. Nate had to practically crawl over the back of the middle row to reach Eliot's duffel bag, and he only felt a little bad for messing up her carefully crafted arrangement.
Eliot carried prescription meds with him and had for as long as Nate had known him. He had worried at first about the bottle of oxi that was always packed in the hitter's personal medkit. In hindsight, he could see the hypocrisy of constantly watching Eliot for signs of opioid addiction while simultaneously getting blackout drunk on a regular basis.
It had only taken a couple months for that concern to shift from Eliot taking too many painkillers to getting Eliot to take them at all. Two years in, and Nate had been worrying about why Eliot felt like jobs would leave him in enough pain on a regular enough basis that he would need to always have that level of painkiller with him. These days, Eliot and meds were mostly a bargaining act, a give and take informed by context and where Eliot's head was at at the given moment.
Oxi made him disoriented and dizzy; he wouldn't take it if he didn't feel safe. Diclofenac made him nauseous if he didn't take it with food (sometimes even when he did). Of the two problems, that was the easier one to solve.
Nate finally managed to find Eliot's duffel bag and pulled the medkit out, tossing the bag back in the pile of luggage for Parker to rearrange and poke through to her heart's content once they got back to the van.
"You want one or two?" Nate opened the kit and sorted through the neatly labeled bottles.
"Just one," Eliot was slumped back against the headrest again, eyes closed.
"You're out of Zofran," Nate shook the empty bottle.
"I gave the last of it to Sophie when we hit that patch of turbulence on the way in for the job," Eliot said dismissively, "it's fine. I'll refill it later."
Nate handed the pill and another water bottle over to Eliot, then texted Parker and asked her to get a bottle of Zofran from the pharmacy. A little thievery would do her good after 8 hours on a plane.
Eliot took the pill, and the van went comfortably quiet aside from the rest of the team's chatter in Nate's ear. It was surprisingly relaxing to listen in on them doing something as mundane as arguing over pasta sauce and gummy frog brands. They were on the comms a lot, but during jobs, there was a certain amount of tension, the constant need to be assessing and reassessing everything that happened.
Nate didn't care what kind of pasta sauce they got, and he didn't like gummy frogs, but it was nice just to sit back and listen to them be together.
There was suddenly weight against his shoulder, and Nate held still as Eliot gradually slumped more heavily against him, eyes closed and breath even. Nate waited until he was sure he was settled before shifting to get an arm around him and stop him from sliding down too far. Eliot fidgeted in his sleep for a moment, then relaxed with a soft sigh.
It wasn't that unusual for Eliot to sleep around them, but after how keyed up he had been at the airport, having him resting solid and relaxed against his side felt like winning.
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Title: Just a Call Away
Fandom: Leverage
Summary: Four times Eliot answers a call from his teammates, and one time they answer a call from him
Ch 2: Sophie - Sophie gets to enjoy a waltz. Eliot gets to enjoy good Thai food.
Authorâs Note: At long last, chapter 2. Nate is up next, but I have no idea how long it will take to write his chapter.
You can go here to read this on AO3 instead.
Eliot had found a variety of good looking mushrooms at the farmers market earlier in the day and bought more than he really should have with no plan for what to do with them. By late afternoon, he had a mushroom risotto in the works for dinner and plans to make mushroom bourguignon the next day.
Nate had promised him the team wouldnât take any more jobs until the stitches in Eliotâs arm were out, and while that didnât necessarily mean much where Nate was concerned, Eliot was hoping for at least a few quiet days where he got to actually cook what he planned to cook.
The shallots and mushrooms were sizzling away in the sautĂŠ pan, and the chicken stock was just starting to simmer when his phone went off. It was the stupid Star Trek ship communicator beep that Hardison had programed into his phone for texts, and he hadnât gotten around to figuring out how to change it yet. He really needed to change it.
The only people with the number for this particularly phone were the team, and they texted him all the time, so he wasnât particularly alarmed when he leaned over to see what they wanted this time.
That changed quickly.
In trouble
Eliot hastily put his knife down on the pile of half chopped parsley and reached for his phone. It was Sophie, and she was considerably less prone to exaggeration than Parker or Hardison.
Need exit
If she was texting instead of calling, then she wasnât in a position to talk, and he couldnât call her to get her location. Eliot wiped his hands hastily on his apron and unlocked his phone to call Hardison to try to get a trace on her location, but the next text came through before he got that far.
Mandarin oriental ballroom
Eliot flipped off the burners without a second thought to his mushrooms, which were definitely going to be an oily ruin by the time he got back to them. He was almost to the door when one more text came.
Wear tux
Eliot groaned. Sophie had pulled him into her side cons once or twice before without warning, but he had made it clear after the second time that if she wanted help with that sort of thing, she needed to be straight with him, or they were both going to end up hurt. She had been good about not doing it since then.
That made him reasonably sure that the demand for dress attire was about getting into the place while drawing as little attention to himself as possible, but it was still a nuisance. He owned two tuxes, but both of them were badly in need of a trip to the dry cleaner, and his dress shoes were still muddy from the last con he had worn them on.
He hastily shrugged into the cleaner of his tuxes anyway and knocked as much mud off his shoes as he could running down the stairs to his car.
Twenty-five minutes later he was slipping through the service tunnels of the Oriental, tying his hair back in an effort to look more like he hadnât just thrown on a somewhat rumpled tux and rushed across town. He managed to slip into the ballroom entirely unnoticed, and the relief was visceral when he spotted Sophie, back in a corner, surrounded by a semi-circle of enamored spectators. He hadnât gotten anything from her since her clothing recommendation, and he hadnât wanted to text her back in case it drew unwanted attention to her phone.
Now that he had eyes on her, he was confident he could get her out safely, and he took a moment to get a read on the room. The guy standing closest to her was definitely the problem. He was too focused on Sophie, too close, and she kept shifting away from him under the guise of listening or talking to other guests.
There were a number of bodyguards in the room, which was hardly a surprise given the type of party this seemed to be. Eliot recognized a gaggle of local politicians, a rather odd smattering of minor European nobility, and he thought he spotted at least one Fortune 500 CEO. This was the sort of crowd that Sophie loved to work.
Eliot was less enthusiastic about it. It wasnât hard to pick out the bodyguards that belonged to Sophieâs stalker. There were three of them, one with eagle eyes on his boss and Sophie, and two watching the room. They looked like they knew their stuff, and one of them had the distinctive stance of former special ops.
Eliot wasnât very eager to start a fight in the middle of a crowded ballroom, or anywhere else for that matter. He had no doubt he could do it, he just didnât want to with fourteen stitches in his arm and a broken finger on his left hand. He definitely needed to have another conversation with the team about thinking through their back-up plans when they did side jobs, because âhope Eliot answers his phone and isnât too injured to fightâ was not a great back-up.
All he really had to do was get Sophie away from the guy, then they could disappear into the crowd and slip out the back. There was a live quartet playing and a few dozen couples dancing in the center of the room. A pretty girl like Sophie had to have no shortage of people wanting to dance with her.
Eliot took his time working his way over to her, not wanting to draw the attention of the bodyguards until he had to. He could tell she had seen him because her posture had relaxed, and she had become more animate and fluid in her gestures and conversation.
By the time Eliot got to the group, Sophieâs stalker was holding her arm possessively, and Eliot considered punching him just for the hell of it. He looked like he would go down easy with just one punch.
He refrained though, slipping into the group surrounding them and stepping to the front.
âYou look like a lady who could use a dance,â Eliot interrupted whatever inane story the man was telling.
âThat would be lovely,â Sophie extracted herself gracefully and took Eliotâs offered arm.
âThe lady is spoken for,â the guy reached for her, but she evaded him neatly, her grip tightening just slightly on Eliot.
âDonât be such a prude, Atticus,â Sophieâs voice was light and teasing, and the gawkers around them laughed.
Atticus looked murderous, but he let them go, and Eliot pulled Sophie out onto the dance floor.
âAtticus? Really?â Eliot gripped as he guided Sophie smoothly into the first turn of the waltz that was playing.
âThank you so much,â the smile on Sophieâs face didnât reflect the anxiety in her voice, âI knew Atticus had a reputation for being a ladiesâ man, but I didnât know he was such a pervert or that his bodyguards were enablers.â
âAre you okay?â maybe Eliot would find the time to punch him after he got Sophie out.
âIâm fine,â Sophie assured him with a squeeze of his hand, âthe wanker had his bodyguards âescortâ me everywhere, even the ladiesâ room. I couldnât find an opening to get away.â
âTheyâre definitely watching us now,â Eliot started leading Sophie in the direction of the service exit he had come in from, âweâre probably going to have to make a run for it at some point.â
âI canât believe you made me teach Hardison to waltz,â Sophie huffed, clearly less worried about their escape plan than Eliot was, âwe could have just swapped the two of you out.â
âLearning skills that donât involve electronics is good for him,â Eliot snorted softly.
âWell, itâs your turn if we ever have to teach Parker,â Sophie was tracking movement over his shoulder, âmy feet canât take another round of being stomped on.â
Eliot turned them so he could see what Sophie had been looking at. Atticus was pushing his way through the crowd so he could keep an eye on them; the man was not subtle.
âIâll just make them dance with each other,â Eliot was suspicious the former special ops guy had figured out which direction he was leading them.
The good news was that most special ops guys wouldnât want to cause a scene, so they would likely be able to get out of the ballroom. The bad news was, the chances of them getting out of the building without Eliot having to fight someone were low.
âThatâs brilliant,â the affectionate smile reserved specifically for the teamâs two idiot lovebirds graced Sophieâs face, âIâll have to talk to Nate about taking more jobs that involve dancing.â
âYou should talk to Nate about your buddy Atticus,â Eliot suggested, âmaybe you can make him jealous.â
âItâs just a con, Eliot,â Sophie rolled her eyes.
âYouâve never sat in the van with Nate when someone is getting handsy with you,â Eliot teased.
âDo you think Hardison has any recordings of that?â Sophie gave a devious grin.
âHe does say he records everything,â Eliot shrugged, âwhen we get closer to the service hall, weâll try to slip out, but weâll probably have to deal with his bodyguards. Are you good to run?â
âAlways,â Sophie smiled at him, completely confident in his ability to keep her safe.
It still made his chest go tight when he realized just how much the team trusted him, how sure they were that he would always save them. By this point, he had two lifetimes worth of people he hadnât been able to save, and there were moments when the teamâs unreserved trust made him feel sick to his stomach.
Not tonight though. Tonight, they would be walking out together.
******
âWalk me up?â Sophie asked, which was just another way of asking the same question she had already asked four times on their way to her place.
âIâm fine Sophie,â Eliot pulled into the underground parking garage of Sophieâs apartment building, âitâs just a few torn stitches.â
The bodyguards hadnât really been a challenge, but his dress shoes had slipped on the linoleum floor, and he had ended up taking a hit from the special ops guy against his upper arm instead of blocking it against his forearm. The impact had popped a couple stitches and reopened the gash. It really wasnât a big deal, but he was bleeding and that seemed to be bothering Sophie.
âIâve had a very trying night,â Sophie said airily, âhumor me. Anyway, I ended up with some of your clothes mixed in with mine last time we had to leave a hotel in a hurry. You should at least come up and change into something more comfortable, and I can get your jacket and shirt soaking before the blood stains sets in too badly.â
Eliot didnât really care about the tux, but it would be nice to change into more comfortable clothes and re-wrap his arm before he got blood on anything else. Home wasnât that far away though, and he had left a mess behind in his kitchen in his rush to get to Sophie. If he let Sophie drag him up to her place while she was feeling guilty about him getting hurt, it could be hours before he got home.
âI left dinner sitting out half cooked,â Eliot shook his head, âI should really get home and clean it up.â
He was going to have to toss the mushrooms for sure, but the stock would probably be okay as long as he gave it a good boil before he used it again. He still had a little bit of leftover chicken in the fridge. He could probablyâŚ
âWell, itâs not going to go anywhere,â Sophie pointed out, âstop being so stubborn and come up. Iâll order in for dinner. Itâs the least I can do.â
Eliot knew a losing battle when he saw one.
âFine,â Eliot gave up, âno dinner though. Iâm just going to get changed, and then I really do need to head home.â
âOf course,â Sophie said without even attempting to sound sincere.
Eliot resigned himself to staying for dinner.
What he hadnât expected was Sophie pulling out her med kit and demanding he show her how to take care of torn stitches. Eliot knew what she was doing. Parker was the only one on the team who had ever shown interest in expanding her first aid knowledge; the only reason Sophie even had a med kit was because Eliot had put it together for her.
It was hard for Eliot to pass up an opportunity to impart at least a little medical knowledge to a teammate, though, even if Sophie was only showing interest as a ploy to get him to take care of his arm sooner instead of later. He made her do the work just to poke at her a bit for trying to manipulate him.
Sophie wasnât squeamish like Hardison or driven to drinking by all things medical like Nate, and she listened carefully as he talked her through removing the torn stitches, cleaning the wound, and putting in the new stitches. She balked a bit at doing the stitches, nervous that there was no lidocaine, but there were only three of them that needed to be redone, and Eliot hadnât bothered to put any lidocaine in Sophieâs kit because she didnât know how to use it.
Actually, that was kind of disappointing. He could have walked her through using it if she had had any. He had mostly let Parker stitch up the gash in the first place just to make her practice calculating lidocaine dosage and injection distribution. Heâd have to grab some for Sophieâs kit next time he thought about it.
âAll done,â Sophie said briskly, wiping her hands on a towel.
âNice job,â Eliot gave the new stitches an appraising look.
âThank you,â Sophie eyed the entire length of the gash with a displeased look, âI think Iâll leave it to you and Parker when thereâs an option though.â
Eliot frowned at the crease that was forming between her eyebrows. Sophie had much stronger opinions about injuries than Eliot did, or at least stronger opinions about Eliotâs injuries than Eliot did.
âItâs good,â he assured her, âit just needs to be cleaned up and wrapped now, and it will be fine.â
âGo take a shower then,â Sophie shooed him away from the table, âIâll find your clothes and order us some dinner.â
Eliot thought about protesting and trying to head home again, but a shower would be nice, and he really was hungry. He would have to cook himself if he went home, and as much as he liked cooking, it was late.
âFine,â Eliot pushed himself out of his chair and headed to the bathroom.
Sophie ordered Thai from the really good place on 12th, and Eliot could tell just from the smell that she had ordered his preferred spice level and not hers, which she really didnât have to do.
Eliot didnât know how to make the team understand that it was okay when he got hurt; they didnât need to feel bad about it unless they had done something really stupid to cause it. It wasnât his job to get hurt (usually), but it just came with the territory. It had always come with the territory for him, and at least with this team, there was an effort made not to put him directly in the line of fire as plan A, or really even plan B or C.
The Thai was really good, though, and Eliot felt like he had talked himself hoarse more than once trying to get Sophie to understand and made almost no progress, so he let it be, kicking his bare feet up on Sophieâs coffee table and settling down to watch the French heist movie she put on without subtitles.
Sophie curled on the other end of the sofa, making a good go at pretending like the food wasnât too spicy for her and drinking the absolute wrong type of tea to have with Thai food, although the amount of cream she had put in it was probably helping with the spiciness. It didnât take her long to grab the blanket off the back of the sofa and pull it over both their laps, followed by shoving her cold feet under Eliotâs thigh, which earned her a half-hearted thump on her shine. At least her feet werenât as cold and bony as Parkerâs.
They settled down to watch the movie and pick at the remaining Thai. Sophie had gotten konom sai sai, koa tom mud, and black rice pudding for dessert, and Eliot could appreciate her absolute lack of shame when it came to her sweet tooth. She would probably like khanom tom or kanom baa bin, and Eliot had been looking for an excuse to try toâŚ
âIâm sorry I didnât do better recon on Atticus,â Sophie said abruptly.
Eliot was well into his mental ingredient list and which of his buddiesâ grandmothers heâd have to suck up to to get authentic recipes, and it took him a moment to process what she had said, but when he did, he reached under the blanket and pinched her calf.
âOw!â Sophie kicked him lightly in the thigh, then tucked her feet back under it, wiggling her toes in an obnoxious way that would have done Parker proud.
âJust let it go, Soph,â Eliot did the mature thing and didnât tickle her under the knee the way he would have with Parker, âIâm glad you called.â
Sophie frowned at him, âit matters when you get hurt. You understand that, donât you?â
Eliot was willing to admit, to himself at least, that he liked that it mattered to them if he got hurt. It felt a lot like being wanted as person instead of a skill set, and it had been a long time since that had happened. He liked it, but it was dangerous, for them and for him. He needed there to be no hesitation on their part to call him in when things got rough. He needed them to not stop to try to figure out if he would be hurt. He would tell them if he couldnât do it; everything else in those kinds of situations needed to be irrelevant.
He was pretty sure it was a problem that he liked that it wasnât.
It wasnât a problem he was going to solve tonight, though, so he gave Sophieâs shin a pat and nodded, then pinched her again when she tried to say more.
âYouâre insufferable,â Sophie huffed.
âJust doing my job, darling,â Eliot grinned at her.
âWell, thank you for doing it so well,â Sophieâs smile was genuine, less bright and flowery than the smile she used on marks.
âYouâre welcome,â Eliot returned the smile, then settled back down to watch the rest of the movie.
*********
They hadnât even sat down to brief for the job yet when Eliot found a shoe box sitting on top of his gear. There was only one person who would buy him shoes, and she was currently on the couch fawning over potential jewelry heists with Parker.
He opened the box and found a pair of new dress shoes in his size. They looked normal enough until he noticed the strange tread pattern on them and ran his hand over the soles. Sophie must have had them custom made to have slip-resistant bottoms.
There was a note tucked neatly into one of the shoes. When he unfolded it, it read, It matters.
Eliot pretended not to notice Sophie watching him out of the corner of her eye, a quietly pleased look on her face, as he carefully tucked the shoes back in their box and stored them with his equipment.
There werenât any easy solutions to the particular problem the team was presenting him with, but maybe that was something he could live with.
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Title: Winter Break
Fandom: Leverage
Summary: The team find themselves snowed in in a little town in the middle of nowhere.
Authorâs Note: Fair warning, I haven't written the rest of this story yet, and I'm not sure when I'll have a chance to finish it, but I thought the first scene was a good fit for the Comfortember prompt: exhaustion, so I'm going to go head and post it.
(Also, Sophieâs chapter is up next for Just a Call Away)
You can go here to read this on AO3 instead.
Eliot saw Hardison slump down into one of the hard terminal seats to his left and start punching away on his phone and didnât even side eye him. There should have been at least a little spike of adrenaline in seeing him there when he definitely shouldnât have been, but instead there was just a bone deep weariness that came with the knowledge that for Hardison to be there something had to be very wrong.
âIâm so sorry, sir,â the woman at the gate counter did her best to sound apologetic, but it was obvious she was just frazzled; two massive storm cells had re-routed seven flights to the little Podunk airport, and there were more people crowded into the terminals than the place probably saw in two or three months, âthereâs just no way to tell when weâll be able to start rebooking outgoing flights.â
âNo worries, darling,â Eliot fell back into an easy drawl, too tired for much else, âcanât control the weather.â
It hurt slinging his bag over his shoulder and reaching down to grab his second bag was almost too much effort to be worth it, but he did anyway, with an easy smile at the gate worker and no sign of discomfort.
When he got to Hardison, he let his bags fall heavily to the ground, then dropped himself into the chair beside him, still not bothering to look at him.
âWho else is here?â he leaned forward, elbows on his knees and head bowed.
âWhole team,â Hardison continued tapping away on his phone.
âFucking hell,â Eliot rubbed a hand over his face.
âYou alright, man?â Hardison finally glanced over at him.
âWhat have you checked so far?â Eliot ignored the concern.
It went without saying that all five of them being re-routed to the same airport in the middle of nowhere couldnât be a coincidence, especially given the fact that the last job had been rough enough for them to take the precaution of booking five different flights on their way out, with the plan to regroup back at HQ gradually over the next three or four days.
âRunning checks on air control, pilots, and flight staff,â Hardison offered, âhavenât found anything yet.â
âCan you get into the air control logs?â Eliot forced down a shiver; the hoodie he was wearing was no match for how cold it was outside and how poorly the terminal was heated.
The way every movement sent sharp pain through his shoulder though made it very clear to him that it wasnât worth it to dig his coat out of his bag. The over-the-counter pain killers he had taken right before his flight had long worn off, and what he really needed was a place to hole up so he could take a round of the prescription strength stuff and get some rest.
That ship, it seemed, had sailed, though. And then been sunk under a foot of snow.
âHere,â Hardison handed his phone over to him, all the officially logged information on the seven rerouted flights on display.
Eliot flipped through the information, checking and cross checking all of it. He forced himself to go more slowly than he usually would, aware of just how tired he was and how easy it would be to miss something or make a mistake, and mistakes just werenât an option where the teamâs safety was at stake. Â
By the time he had listened to the exchanges between the tower and the pilots for all seven flights on Hardisonâs earbuds, Nate had appeared, dropping down in the chair on Eliotâs other side, a paper cup of questionable coffee in one hand.
âWhere are Parker and Sophie?â Eliot asked, his unease at their absence growing now that Nate had shown up and they still hadnât; he knew they could take care of themselves, but that didnât stop him from worrying.
âTrying to find a coffee stand that will make a decent cappuccino and let Parker put half a bottle of syrup in her hot chocolate,â Nate relaxed back in his chair, not looking particularly distressed by their current situation, âyou want anything?â
âNo,â even the idea of coffee made his stomach roll; he knew he needed to eat something to settle it, but eating sounded like a terrible idea at the moment.
âFind anything yet?â Nate looked at Hardison over Eliotâs hunched back.
âNothing,â Hardison shook his head, âplus I still canât find us anywhere to stay. Everything is full.â
âEliot?â Nate asked, glancing down at his phone when Sophie texted him a warning that Parker had managed to put six extra pumps of mocha in her hot chocolate without the barista noticing.
Nate wasnât sure if he should be impressed or terrified. He settled on asking Sophie to grab a bottle of Gatorade for Eliot, then slipped his phone back into his pocket. Â
âNothing,â Eliot handed Hardisonâs phone back to him, then slumped forward again, âthree of the re-routes were requested by the pilots, four of them were made by air control. They tried to re-route Sophieâs flight to a larger airport, but the storm shifted, and they had to send it here. The pilot on your flight was retired air force. He kept using air force codes and the tower was giving him shit about it. Hardisonâs pilot kept flipping his call sign and his co-pilot kept cutting in to correct it. Re-routes all make sense for the way the two storm fronts are shaping up.â
âWhat does that mean?â Hardison glanced at Nate over Eliotâs back, a slight tip of his head in the hitterâs direction.
âIt means that thereâs nothing there,â Nate dropped his free hand to the back of Eliotâs neck and began kneading, âif they were trying to pull something, they would have made sure everything was perfect in the logs in case someone went back to review them. Which means everything is pointing to this just being a really weird coincidence.â
âThere is no way this is a coincidence,â Eliot grumbled, grateful to have some of the tension finally ease out of his shoulders under Nateâs hand.
âThe world is a strange place,â Sophieâs very expensive and highly inappropriate for snow storms shoes appeared in Eliotâs line of sight, âyou look awful, sweetheart.â
She pressed a kiss to the top of his head before going to sit on Hardisonâs other side, leaning over his shoulder and sipping her coffee as she watched him continued to try to find them a place to stay.
âDo you have any real shoes with you?â Eliot gripped at her.
âIâll have you know, I could buy two sets of those fancy kitchen knives you love so much with what these shoes cost,â Sophie said in mock offense, âbut I do have weather appropriate shoes if thatâs what youâre asking. Iâll dig them out once we decide on our plan.â
Parker planted herself on the floor at Eliotâs feet and stared up at him, the line of chocolate on her top lip a clear indication that she had already managed to down her hot chocolate. Eliot just raised his eyebrows at her. He couldnât deny, he felt better having all four of them close, knowing that at least they were in reach if something happened.
âOur plan is to find someplace to stay to wait out this storm,â Nate continued rubbing Eliotâs neck, âif the weather report is right, we could be stuck here for the next three or four days, and I donât think any of us want to spend that long sleeping on airport benches.â
âWhatever we end up doing, we should stick together,â Eliot insisted.
Eliot knew he was paranoid, and he knew sometimes that paranoia was justified and sometimes it wasnât. The problem was, it didnât matter if there was actually someone out to get them, or he was just tired and his brain was defaulting to âdanger,â it all felt the same. It felt like his team was in trouble, and he needed to do something, needed to make sure they were safe.
âWe are definitely sticking together,â Hardison grumbled, âIâll be lucky if I can find even one room for us.â
âYou hurt your shoulder again,â Parker frowned up at Eliot.
Nateâs hand went abruptly still on the back of his neck, and Eliot glared down at Parker. He had been careful about not showing the injury, but this was Parker, and her observation skills were frighteningly good. Her sense of tact, not so much.
âI just dislocated it,â Eliot did his best to sound dismissive, âitâs fine.â
âWhen did that happen?â Nate demanded.
âDoes it matter?â Eliot was not interested in having this argument again.
âI need to know when youâre hurt on a job,â Nate squeezed his neck briefly, then went back to kneading at it.
âItâs fine. Popped it back in, no problem. It wasnât worth throwing Sophieâs exit off for,â Eliot should really have straightened up and pulled away, but he couldnât muster the energy to, âit happens⌠sometimes.â
He caught himself before he could say âall the time,â partly because that was definitely the wrong thing to say right now and partly because it wasnât really true. There was permanent damage in his left shoulder that made it slightly more prone to dislocating, but it didnât happen all the time.
âTell me next time it happens,â Nate pulled his hand away, and it was everything Eliot could do not to follow it.
âYou want me to tell you next time I skin my knee too?â the hitter asked peevishly.
âYes!â the rest of his team chimed in.
âYouâre all ridiculous,â Eliot grumbled at them, but he couldnât help the quiet warmth that pooled in his chest.
âYou should wear a sling after you dislocate it,â Parker leaned her head on his knee, still looking up at him, âit makes it feel better.â
âI donât have a sling,â Eliot pointed out, âitâs fine.â
âYou have pain meds,â Parker reached back to drag one of his bags closer.
âNeed to eat something before I take any more,â Eliot used his foot to push the bag away from her; he would definitely end up retching if he tried to take even the over the counter stuff right now, and heâd rather not, âleave that alone. We need to figure out our next move.â
âYouâre going to drink this,â Nate opened the Gatorade bottle Sophie had slipped him before handing it to Eliot, âand weâre going to have to think outside the box if we want to find a place to sleep tonight.â
Eliot glared at the radioactive yellow color, but took it anyway. Nate wasnât wrong; he needed the fluids. He should have had Sophie grab him some tea though. Even crappy airport tea would have been better than Gatorade. He forced himself to finally sit up so he could drink, and Nateâs hand fell back to the nap of his neck and started kneading again. Eliot leaned back into it under the guise of settling into his chair more comfortably.
âWe could buy a house,â Sophie suggested, only half joking.
âWe could steal a house,â Parker grinned, head back to resting on Eliotâs knee, âthat would be faster. Also more fun.â
âI could kick someone out of a room,â Hardison squinted at his phone, âbut that seems like kind of a shitty thing to do.â
âOh! Find someone whoâs a jerk and kick them out,â Parker shifted so she could look at Hardison over Eliotâs knee, âthen it would be okay, right Nate?â
âIt would be⌠less not okay,â Nate offered, clearly amused, âbut letâs call that plan D.â
âCan stealing a house be plan A?â Parker asked eagerly.
âNo,â Nate snorted, âbut itâs definitely ranking above sleeping in the airport for three days.â
âSleeping in the airport better be plan Z.â Sophie huffed.
âNo,â Hardison grinned, âplan Z has zombies.â
Eliot sipped at his Gatorade slowly, waiting to gauge how it would settle on an empty stomach, and tried to prioritize what they needed to do. Security and the teamâs safety was always his first priority, but he needed to get his brain to let that go for a little bit so he could figure out what they would need to manage being snowed in in a tiny town for a week, because Nateâs estimate of three days was generous if the weather reports were even half right.
His brain was not cooperating. The airport was overcrowded with angry people who were looking at being stuck there for days with no other options, and every aggressive gesture and raised voice had his eyes jumping to the person, assessing the level of threat, then skittering away to the next one. There could be a threat there somewhere; the five of them ending up together some place they hadnât intended to be felt like a trap.
He needed to get them out of here. That seemed like a good first step.
âDo we have a car?â he interrupted Hardisonâs detailing of plan Z, which he had heard way too many times.
âYeah, I reserved us a van as soon as I got in,â Hardison confirmed, âainât fancy, but theyâre supposed to put the chains on for us.â
âMaybe we should just get out of here then,â Eliot gave the half full Gatorade bottle a disgusted look, âwe should aim for getting enough supplies for all of us for at least a week, just in case, and itâs early enough that the grocery stores might still be open if the blizzard hasnât shut them down.â
Somewhere behind them a disgruntled businessman got unnecessarily loud with airport personal and one of the meandering security guards started to make his way towards the disturbance. Nate felt Eliot tense under his hand and shift his weight to a position it would be easier for him to get up in a hurry from. Parker was starting to look a little twitchy too, although being pressed up against Eliotâs knee and at least partially sheltered from the chaos of the terminal was probably helping.
âIâm not keen on the idea of driving out into a blizzard with no final destination in mind,â Sophie frowned.
âLiving out of a van with five other people and freezing my ass off for a week,â Hardison flipped through web pages faster than Sophie could follow, âthat better be somewhere after plan Z.â
Eliot knew they werenât wrong, but Parker was hugging the leg she was resting against like a teddy bear, and he would have to step on her if he had to get up quickly to deal with trouble. It felt like the better option was to go sort out their next move behind locked doors, even if they were just car doors.
Nate gave the back of Eliotâs neck a reassuring squeeze, and Eliot pulled his ankle back, partially trapping Parker between his leg and the chair. He gave her a tired smile when she looked up at him and pretended not to notice when she started untying his boot lace. She would retie it using whatever her favorite knot of the week was.
âWeâll call sleeping in the van plan E,â Nate offered.
âThat seems awfully high on the list,â Sophie complained.
âWell, then we better come up with a plan A,â Nate scoffed, âand Eliotâs right, weâre going to have to make a supply run and try to stock up. It would be better not to have to make too many trips out if the roads are bad,â he pulled his notepad and pen out of his inner pocket and passed it to Eliot, âthe grown-ups donât want to live on orange soda and coco puffs for a week, so this oneâs all you.â
âPut coco puffs on the list,â Parker stage whispered to Eliot.
He snorted softly, but put it down first. He was acutely aware that Nate was trying to give him some kind of distraction to focus on, and he wanted to be more irritated by it than he was, but focusing on something besides the crowd and being able to organize his thoughts on paper did actually help.
It took a surprising amount of food to feed five people for a week, plus the logistics of possibly losing power, and all the other things they would need, things to cook food in, plates and utensils of some kind if the place they were staying didnât have any, restocking the med kit, taking into account that he really didnât feel like cooking and the rest of teamâs cooking skills ranged from âprobably wonât kill anyoneâ to âdefinitely will make something explode.â
âIsnât this hiking country?â Nate asked suddenly.
âUnfortunately,â Hardison grumbled, âIâm going to go sleep on the floor in the corner over there before Iâm going to camp in this though.â
âSummer vacation rentals,â Eliot filled in before Nate could, âtheyâll be closed up for winter, so they shouldnât be booked. Just make sure they have their utilities turned on.â
Hardison perked up at the idea and started searching on his phone, Sophie leaning eagerly over his shoulder again.
âFinish this,â Nate picked up the bottle of Gatorade from where Eliot had set it on the arm rest and held it out to him, âor Iâm hunting down a bottle of Pedialyte for you.â
âYou know,â Eliot set the pad on his knee and took the bottle from him reluctantly, âPedialyte actually tastes better.â
âIsnât that like baby food?â Parker peered curiously at the list, noting with satisfaction that Eliot had put not only coco puffs but also fruity pebbles and frosted flakes on it for her.
âYeah,â Nate confirmed, âso donât be a baby and drink your Gatorade.â
âGot one,â Hardison announced, âa lovely summer chalet with two bedrooms and a sleeping loft, full kitchen, and real wood fireplace. Also, on the grid and utilities running. Itâs closed for the winter, so no rental contacts listed.â
âCan we steal it?â Parker asked eagerly.
âLetâs try just renting it first,â Nate shook his head, âsee if you can get a contact number for the owners.â
âIf?â Hardison snorted, âlike I couldnât do this in my sleep.â
âStop bragging and give me the phone,â Sophie tried to snatch the phone from him as soon as the number was up, âwhat are we doing?â
âFamily vaca,â Nate ignored Eliotâs grumble from beside him.
They called the particular grouping of IDs âfamily vacaâ because Eliot got angry when they called it âEliot needs to go to the ER and Nate needs durable power of attorney for him,â although to be fair, there were other ways they used this particular arrangement.
âIâm so glad I reached you,â Sophie started talking before the person on the other end of the line could even ask who was there, giving Eliot a wink as she pulled out her friendliest southern drawl.
Eliot rolled his eyes and began adjusting the list now that he knew they would have an actual kitchen. Just how well outfitted a rentalâs kitchen would be could vary widely, but at least they shouldnât need dishes and utensils, and if they were lucky, it would have a gas stove and theyâd still be able to cook if the power went out.
âAdd marshmallows,â Parker demanded and let go of his leg to reach for his bag.
âStay out of my stuff,â Eliot used his foot to push the bag away from her again.
âYou need your jacket,â Parker swatted at his shin, âI know you had the one with the fuzz on the inside with you; you wore it when we were casing the warehouse.â
âOther bag,â Eliot gave in, then shoved Parker gently with his foot, âdonât rearrange anything in there. Itâs all exactly where I want it.â
âYou always pack your bags the same,â Parker complained as she unzipped the second bag, âit makes finding things so boring.â
âItâsâŚ,â Eliot broke off, distracted by two security guards rushing past them, heading in the direction of the meager food court.
âAlmost out of here,â Nate patted his knee, âonce weâve got the cabin worked out, weâll hit up a grocery store, then get settled for the night.â
âI donât like any of this, Nate,â Eliot frowned at him.
âI know,â Nate agreed easily, âitâs a lot of coincidence, but itâs also a lot of moving pieced that canât be controlled or predicted, and we do need to get moving if we donât actually want to spend the next week stuck in the airport.â
âCoat,â Parker held up Eliotâs jacket, one of his beanies firmly on her head.
He suspected he would not be getting that beanie back, but that was alright; he had another one somewhere and Parker would need a hat once they got out of the airport. He reached for his jacket, but Parker snatched it back.
âLet me help,â she insisted, âitâs not good to raise your arm over your shoulder right after you dislocate it.â
âYou know, this is not the first time Iâve done this,â Eliot let her help despite his protest, âI know how to deal with it.â
âYeah, but you donât half the time,â Hardison grumbled.
âIf I ainât dead then I delt with it,â Eliot glared.
âSophie says itâs not funny to joke about that when youâre hurt,â Parker zipped up the jacket for him despite him trying to brush her hands away.
Sophie glanced over at them at her name, but continued her cheerful conversation with the rental owner, giving them little more than a raised eyebrow.
âWell, then, when is it funny to joke about it?â Nate asked, clearly bemused.
Sophie reached across both Hardison and Eliot to swat him, never once breaking the steady chatter of her conversation.
âHat too,â Parker pulled a beanie over Eliotâs head, then tucked his hair back so it wasnât in his face, âitâs snowing really hard. Did you put ice packs on your list?â
Eliot let her snatch the pad from him, although the fancy pen she started adding to it with looked like it was Sophieâs. He had not put ice packs on the list, but he had planned to grab a couple if they had any, along with more Tylenol and ibuprofen. He had some in his med kit, but if all five of them were going to be dipping into the kit, it would be better to stock up.
âYou are just the sweetest thing,â Sophie cooed at the phone, âdonât you bother with coming out in this dreadful weather. We can manage just fine.â
Sophie hung up and grinned at the team, âthe house is ours for as long as we need it. Thereâs a lock box on the porch with the key.â
âI can just pick the lock,â Parker protested as she pushed herself to her feet.
âItâs okay to use a key sometimes Parker,â Nate stood and started gathering up their bags, âmaybe change it up a little every now and then.â
âI donât like keys in lock boxes,â Eliot shoved himself up, âtoo easy to get to and copy.â
He was dizzy for a second, just long enough for Hardison to put a hand on the small of his back. Eliot stepped away from him and no one said anything. He just needed to eat something, preferably something that wouldnât make him sick, that was all.
Hardison snatched up his bags before he could grab them, and if he hadnât been feeling so lousy, he would have kicked him in the shin for it.
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Title: Just a Call Away
Fandom: Leverage
Summary: Four times Eliot answers a call from his teammates, and one time they answer a call from him
Authorâs Note: Written for Comfortember. The prompt for the first chapter is anxiety. I may hit some of the other prompts as I work my way through the chapters.
You can go here to read this on AO3 instead.
Eliot was asleep. Actually asleep. Under his nice fluffy down comforter, and he had just washed his sheets, and the bruising on his ribs was finally healed enough for him to sleep on that side without it hurting.
And his phone rang.
He should have left it in the living room, or turned it off, or tossed it out the window, or literally anything besides leaving it sitting on his nightstand. But he hadnât. So he reached a hand out of his nice warm cocoon of blankets and groped blindly for it, pulling it back under the comforter to put to his ear.
âWhat?â he slurred, too groggy to even really be surly.
âI need help,â Parker said by way of greeting.Â
The team had called him far more times than Eliot cared to keep track of for that exact thing, enough times that it no longer immediately incited panic in him, since it was, more often than not, not actually an emergency, particularly where Hardison and Parker were concerned. âWe ran out of cookiesâ and âwe need more blankets for movie nightâ were not conversations that should have started with âI need help.â
Parkerâs voice wavered though, and there was just enough panic in it to have Eliot pushing himself out of bed and looking for the nearest pair of pants.
âWhere are you?â Eliot asked.
âNebraska,â Parker sounded nervous admitting it.
âNebraâŚâ Eliot dropped back to the edge of his bed heavily, âParker, Iâm in Boston!â
âI know,â something that sounded very much like desperation entered her voice, âIâm lost, and you know military stuff, so you can help.â
Eliot ran a rough hand over his face and tried calm both his frustration and his anxiety. Military stuff, Parker, and lost were not things that should go together, especially when Eliot was half way across the country from her. He could deal with that later though. For now, he needed to try to get her out of whatever mess she had gotten herself into.Â
âWhatâs going on?â he did his best to keep his voice level; Parker could and would shut down on him if she thought he was angry with her.
âI got a tip that there was a stash of stolen World War II paintings hidden in an old cold war bunker in Nebraska,â Parkerâs voice came across calmer now that she knew Eliot would help her.
As if that had ever been in questions.
âYouâre lost in a cold war bunker?â Eliot couldnât help the rise in his voice.
âI had the route all planned out, but then I got turned around, and all the halls look the same,â Parker snapped.
âThey do that on purpose,â Eliot snapped back.
He could charter a private jet and be there in six hours, maybe five if he threw enough money at the charter company. He could call in a favor with one of his military buddies, and maybe, if he was really lucky, be there in four hours, but favors from military buddies could be complicated, and Parker would be fine for an extra hour or two⌠probably⌠maybe.
âSee, you know military stuff,â Parker huffed, âtell me how to get out. There are markings on the walls, but I donât know what any of them mean.â
There was a chance Eliot wasnât going to know either. He had been in a handful of top secret military bunkers in his life, both with and without permission, but none of them had been cold war era, and while notation and signage was kind of standardized, it did change over time and a certain percentage of secret bases put up signage to intentionally confuse people.
He could at least try to talk Parker through, he guessed. She didnât seem to be in immediate danger and if he could help her find her way out, that would be faster than her having to wait for him to get there.
âOkay, stay on the line and tell me what you see,â Eliot directed.
âI canât,â the nervousness was back in Parkerâs voice.
âCanât what?â Eliot scowled, wishing Parker was there for him to scowl at.
âI canât stay on the line,â Parker clarified, âI had to climb to the top of this big round room to get a signal, but I donât think thereâs any way out through here.â
âYou climbed to the top of a missile silo,â Eliot said flatly.
âThereâs no missile,â Parker countered, as if that was the problem.
This team was going to be the death of him, he just knew it.
âOkay, you are going to tell me exactly where this bunker is,â Eliot said firmly, âand Iâm going to tell you what to look for so you can try and find your way out. Youâre going to call me any time you can get a signal, and if I donât hear from you with in an hour, Iâm flying out there to get you.â
He kind of wanted to make the last part a threat, but neither of them would have believed that.
âOkay,â Parker agreed.
She listened carefully as Eliot explained how military notation usually worked, repeating the information back to him when he asked. Then, he had to let her hang up.
It was a very long four hours while Eliot was forced to wait for Parkerâs irregular calls. He spent the time pacing restlessly, running through every possible scenario and outcome, all the things that could go wrong, from Parker getting hurt, to getting lost and not being able to reach him to tell him, to finding herself locked behind failsafe doors that didnât unlock once they had been triggered, to the owners of the stash coming back and catching her or just killing her on the spot.
He almost chartered the flight out twice, but both times he was interrupted by Parker calling, and he hung up on the hold music to answer.
Finally, finally, though, Parker found her way out, and Eliot could hear crickets chirping and the wind rustling in the grass when she called, and he felt like he could breathe again without something trying to crush his chest.
âThanks, Eliot,â Parker chirped, apparently none the worse for wear.
Eliot was feeling much worse for wear and did not appreciate the cheerfulness.
âNow that I know how to get around, I should go back and get the paintings,â Parker continued happily, âthereâs supposed to beâŚâ
âNo, you will not,â Eliot cut her off with a snarl, âyou are going to get on the next flight home, and if I donât see you in person in the next eight hours, Iâm going to take all the diamonds you have stashed under the floor at that warehouse you own on 9th street, sell them for half of what theyâre worth, and give all the money to a clown school.â
âI didnât know you knew about that stash,â Parker said meekly, then added in a somewhat horrified whisper, âclowns have schools?â
That was definitely not the thing to be horrified about here.
âEight hours, Parker,â Eliot said firmly, then hung up.
He slid to the floor and leaned back against his bed, muscles aching from the constant tension vibrating through him for the last four hours, and pressed his forehead to his knees. He didnât think Parker really understood just how much trouble she had been in. Some of those underground facilities were huge, and with no easy way to stay in touch with her, it could have been days, if not weeks, until they found her, and that wasnât even taking into account the possibility of her getting caught, and what the people who caught her would do to her.
He was glad she had called, glad she hadnât waited until she was starting to suffer from dehydration and hunger, or the guys who the stuff belonged to came back and started shooting, but it was hard to quantify just how much stress his team created for him.
He glanced down at the floor where he had dropped his phone. He was tempted to call Hardison and ask him to track Parker and make sure she really didnât go back down into the bunker, or Nate, so he would chew Parker out before he took on the job of recovering and returning the stolen art, or even Sophie, just to have someone to rant to. Anyone, just so he didnât have to sit here alone with his frayed nerves.
Instead, he shoved himself to his feet and went to go spend some quality time with his punching bag. It wasnât like he was going to get anymore sleep any time soon.
********
Seven hours and forty-three minutes later, Parker appeared next to him so abruptly he almost dropped his spoon into the stew he was stirring.
âPlease donât sell my diamonds,â Parker said quickly.
Eliot contemplated smacking her with the spoon. Not hard, just enough to sting. Maybe a little hard. He could say she had startled him and it was reflex.
Parker hugged him before he could decide, and he was forced to put the spoon down so he didnât get stew on her shirt.
âThank you for helping me,â she ducked her head against his shoulder.
Eliot sighed heavily and wrapped his arms around her, âanytime, darling.â
Because he always wanted her to call. No matter what, he wanted her to call him if she got into trouble. He didnât want to find out about it after it was too late to do anything.
âAlso, Sophie said you probably werenât really going to sell my diamonds, and that you were just worried about me because you care, and I should apologize for scaring you,â Parker squeezed him a little tighter, âso, sorry for scaring you.â
Eliot wasnât sure if Parker really understood what Sophie had been trying to tell her or was just doing what she thought would make him less upset with her. Either one seemed like progress in a certain way, and at least she was safe now.
He pressed his face into her hair and closed his eyes.
âI really would have sold your diamonds,â he assured her.
âOh,â Parker frowned into his shoulder, âdoes that mean you care a lot or that I scared you a lot?â
âYes,â he grumbled.
âOkay,â Parker was quiet for a moment, her grip still tight around his shoulders, âwill you help me burn down all the clown schools?â
âNo!â Eliot gave her a quick, hard squeeze, making her squeak, then let her go, âgo set the table. Dinnerâs almost ready.â
âOkay,â Parker grinned at him, then hesitated before kissing him on the cheek, âyou scare me sometimes, too.â
Before Eliot could ask, she had turned away to start pulling things out of the cupboards. He stared at her for a minute before turning back to his stew. If anyone was ever going to turn his hair grey, it was going to be that girl, but he was glad to have her home.
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Title: Loose Ends
Fandom: Carmen Sandiego
Summary: Shadowsan helps Carmen cope with disappointment
Authorâs Note: for the Comfortember event, prompt: cuddle. The way the show has handled Carmen and Shadowsan's relationship is one of my favorite things about it.
You can go here to read this on AO3 instead.
While Carmen was doing an admirable job of maintaining her composure, Shadowsan could tell by the slope of her shoulders and the jerkiness of her hands as she pulled her hair up, that she was upset.
It was understandable. This was the third lead on her mother in as many months that had come to nothing. Carmen had both patience and persistence in abundance, but the repeated disappointment of their leads yielding no fruit time and time again was beginning to wear on her.
Out in the water, Zack shrieked at a decibel that was normally reserved for emergency signals and toddlers, only to be cut off by his sister shoving his head under. Shadowsan was relatively sure that Zack could swim, or at least that his sister wouldnât let him drown, but it might bear asking about eventually.
âPlayer said you were considering spending a few extra daysâŚâ Shadowsan turned to Carmen, only to trail off when she let her forehead fall to rest against his chest.
It wasnât that Carmen had ever shown any particular aversion to physical affection, she just never seemed very interested in it, never sought it out or initiated it. She was, as Zack had so eloquently put it, âgood at using her wordsâ instead.
So he moved with a certain caution when he brought one hand up to rest on the back of her head, as if she would spook, or perhaps that this wasnât what she needed or was asking for.
âCarmen?â he asked softly when she didnât move, not to explain herself or to wrap her arms around him in a proper hug.
âI think I should stop looking,â Carmenâs voice was soft, almost lost in the fabric of his shirt, âif sheâs a civilian, Iâm only putting her in danger. If sheâs a thief, she may just not want to be found, and thatâs why she never came looking for me.â
âI do not believe that,â Shadowsan took the chance of wrapping his other arm around her, drawing her closer, and she let him, âit is far more likely that she thinks you died when your father was killed. A civilian would not have the resources to look deeper into the matter, and if she was a thief of Wolfâs caliber, then she would know that Vile does not leave loose ends.â
Carmen shifted closer to him, hands coming up to grip at his shirt.
âI cannot imagine a world where your parents could possibly be any less proud of you than I am,â he told her carefully.
He had told her before how proud he was of her. He was certain he would tell her again. Saving her was, by far, the best thing he had ever done.
âWhatever you decide, I will support you,â Shadowsan pressed a kiss to the top of her head before he could think better of it, âalways.â
Carmen breathed out slowly before shifting enough to look up at him, âIâm glad you left loose ends.â
âAs am I,â Shadowsan smiled at her.
Behind them there was a shout of terror followed by Ivyâs ruckus laughter.
âThat fish touched me!â Zack scrambled away from the waves as if they were trying to bite him.
âItâs the ocean, bro,â Ivy managed between snorts of laughter, âthe fish was here first.â
âSo, Zack and Ivy want to spend a few days at the beach,â Carmen shifted, tucking herself neatly under Shadowsanâs arm, âwant to go case some museums and not steal anything?â
Shadowsan laughed, feeling lightness in his chest and lightness tucked under his arm, âI would be delighted.â
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Title: Use Your Words
Fandom: Leverage
Summary: Nate's "no stabbing" request makes it much more stressful for Parker to deal with unwanted attention. Luckily, Eliot is there to be scary.
Authorâs Note: for the Comfortember event, prompt: rescue. Iâm not sure how many of these Iâll do, but I had fun with this one.
You can go here to read this on AO3 instead.
Eliot was quite content sitting on his bar stool, chatting up the two girls next to him while he sipped his beer. One of them was a vet tech and the other was an interpreter for the Portuguese consulate, both of them were slightly tipsy. The vet tech kept going into excruciating detail on surgical procedures for ferrets, particularly into the specialized equipment they used for it, which was fascinating, and the interpreter kept telling him stupid Portuguese puns she had heard from the diplomats and getting the goofiest grin on her face when she didnât have to explain it to him for him to understand how terrible they were.
Sophie and Nate were in a booth in the back corner, fighting or flirting or whatever it was they called it. It all kind of looked the same to Eliot. Hardison had stuck around for a while, then gone upstairs to call his Nana before it got too late. Eliot assumed Parker had gone up with him. She liked celebrating with the team well enough, but she wasnât much for hanging around other people once the celebration tapered off. He had lost track of her about the time Hardison had left, which wasnât that unusual. Out of everyone on the team, Parker was the hardest to keep track of in a crowd.
Which was why he almost knocked over his beer when Parker slammed into his side like a missile, wrapping her hands around his arm hard enough to bruise.
âYouâre my boyfriend,â she said with an odd note of demand in her voice.
Eliot took in the wild look in her eyes, patted the hand digging into his bicep, then gave the girls on the bar stools beside him an easy smile, âexcuse me ladies.â
He led Parker over to a quiet spot behind the billiard tables before prying her hands off his arm, then leaned against the wall casually, effectively blocking the view of her from the rest of the room.
âWhy am I your boyfriend?â he asked, âI thought Hardison was your boyfriend, or whatever youâre calling it.â
âHardison doesnât look scary,â Parker folded her arms across her chest and hunched her shoulders, âI need a boyfriend who looks scary because Nate said I shouldnât stab people just for talking to meâŚâ
âIâm pretty sure that only applies to when weâre running cons,â Eliot tried to interject, but Parker kept going.
âAnd Sophie said I should use my words first, but I did and he still kept talking to me, and then his friend with the oily hair started talking to me too, and I want them to stop talking to me and looking at me and⌠and⌠being there,â Parker was breathing hard by the time she finished, practically trembling with the particular frustration of not knowing what to do with people when she had been told not to do what she really wanted to.
âHey,â Eliot dropped his hands onto her shoulders, âwho do you need me to scare?â
All of the tension dropped out of Parkerâs shoulders, and she pointed to a pair of drunks who had sauntered over to the girls Eliot had been talking to. They kept casting fugitive glances in Parker and Eliotâs direction. The vet tech made a motion towards one of them as if she was cutting something open with a scalpel, probably him, and he looked a little green in response. Neither girl looked enamored with the attention.
âCome on,â Eliot dropped his arm around Parkerâs shoulders, pulling her safely against his side, and she relaxed into him, âletâs go scare some drunks.â
Said drunks twitched nervously when Eliot walked up to them.
âThereâs no rules against talking to pretty girls,â the one with slightly less oily hair said defensively before Eliot had even said anything.
âYou should leave,â Eliot suggested with a menacing smile.
âWe can be here if we want,â the oiler of the two tried to square up his shoulders and look bigger, âyou donât own the place.â
Out of the corner of his eye he could see Nate and Sophie had stopped their flirt-fighting to watch, ready to step in if they needed to. They wouldnât need to though. Eliot probably wasnât even going to need to punch anyone.
âYou know, noses just break so easily,â Eliot cocked his head to the side just slightly, âthereâs this little bone in there called the vomer. Usually it just breaks, but if you hit it just right, you can drive it right through the sinuses and into the brain cavity. Itâs a pretty cool trick, actually. Takes a lot of practice.â
The drunks exchanged nervous glances.
âWanna see?â Eliot asked cheerfully.
Parker hid her giggles against Eliotâs shoulder as the drunks decided discretion was the better part of valor and beat a trail to the door. Across the room, Nate smirked at him and Sophie smiled, then they went back to whatever it was that passed as quality time for them.
Eliotâs previous conversation partners seemed just about done with the attention of strangers, so he gave them a friendly wave and walked away, Parker gliding happily at his side.
âSo what are we doing now?â Parker asked.
Going home seemed like a reasonable response, but Parker was still full of jittery energy, and it wasnât that late yet.
âCome on,â Eliot started towards the door, âletâs stop by the store and grab what we need to make brownies, then we can see if Hardison wants to watch a movie or something.â
âThe fudgy kind with chocolate chips?â Parker latched onto his hand eagerly.
âSure,â Eliot shrugged.
âAnd peanut butter frosting?â Parker all but vibrated with excitement.
âHave you eaten anything that wasnât sugar today?â Â Eliot asked as they stepped outside.
âFrosted flakes are made of corn,â Parker offered, âthat makes them a vegetable.â
âWeâll pick up something to make for dinner, too.â Eliot gave a long suffering sigh.
âWaffles!â Parker cheered.
âIâm making you brownies. Weâre having stir fry for dinner,â Eliot said firmly. Â
âBut peanut butter frosting!â Parker swung their hands together.
âYes, Parker,â Eliot smiled despite himself.
All things considered, it wasnât the worst way to spend an evening, and Eliot hadnât even had to break any noses to get there.
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Prompt Requests
I havenât really felt the writing bug for a while, but I am planning on trying to participate in @gentronlegendaryfriendships Legendary Friendship week in August.
I am mostly planning on trying to finish up some WIPs that have been sitting on my hard drive for quite a long time, but the prompt for day 2 is âWing AU.â I have a Wing Au (here are the stories, and here are the head canons the stories are built on), but I have no WIPs currently for it.
I do like writing for the wing AU though, so I am taking prompts for it to use in August, or maybe sooner if I get multiple prompts that I like.
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Chugging caffeine to try to fight the inevitable crash- with Shiro and Lance for your coffee shop AU
Summary: Never any romance ever coffee shop AU. Sometimes all it takes to get through finals week is a little bit of extra help. The whipped cream and sprinkles don't hurt either. Available on AO3 as well.
Notes: A little bit of a spoiler for the series since Lance hasn't made an official appearance yet. At this point in the story, he is one of Shiro's regular customers (and Hunk's biggest fan).
âHow many cups has he had?âShiro leaned on the barista bar next to Ryner, his voice low.
Ryner glanced over at theyoung man at the corner table, mostly hidden behind stacks of text books. Thewindow behind him was dark and splattered with rain, but the string lights hungacross the beams of the porch twinkled cheerfully in the gloom.
âHeâs on his sixth cup, plusthe white mocha I compted him when he came up for his fourth refill lookinglike he was about to cry,â Ryner shook her head.
âI think it might be time tocut Lance off,â Shiro folded his arms over his chest, ânext time he comes up,offer him tea or hot chocolate on us.â
âWill do,â Ryner nodded, âweshould spike his tea with chamomile or something and see if we can get him totake a nap.â
âMaybe as a parting gift onhis way out,â Shiro laughed softly, âwhat is he working on?â
âHeâs studying for finals,but Iâm not sure which ones,â Ryner squinted, trying to make out the titles onthe stacks of text books, âit probably wouldnât hurt to get some food into him.I donât think heâs eaten since he got here, and that was right after lunch.â
Lance reached up blindly forhis mug, balanced somewhat precariously on top of a stack of books. He tried totake a drink, but upon finding it was empty, let his head fall to the tablewith a thump. Ryner and Shiro winced.
âDefinitely time for asnack,â Shiro straightened from the counter, âheâs been doing peppermint whitemochas lately, hasnât he?â
âOn the rare occasion that hegets something besides a drip, yes,â Ryner nodded, âpeppermint white chocolatehot chocolate, then?â
âYeah, thanks,â Shiro headedin the direction of the large soup pots behind the counter, âIâll get him somesoup, and weâll see if we can get him at least a little de-stressed.â
Shiro opened the lid of thewarmer pot, and took a deep breath of the warm, spicy smell. Hunk wanted to dosomething new every day for their soups, but they were always so popular thatcustomers wanted to have them again. Shiro had finally talked him into doing aweekly rotation based on the season.
Today was borscht or cinnamonspiced sweet potato. They were well into the evening and out of borscht, but therewas still enough sweet potato soup for another cup or two. Shiro ladled out acup and dropped in a double helping of maple croutons. Hunk had had to makeextra croutons because the staff kept snacking on them.
âHey Lance,â Shiro came to standin front of the table, a wall of books between he and the young man.
Lance pushed himself up witheffort, blinking tiredly at Shiro, âhey Shiro. Are you guys trying to lock up?I can get this stuff out of here.â
âNope, youâre good. Weâreopen late during finals, so youâve got a couple hours still,â Shiro reachedover the pile of books to set the cup of soup in front of Lance, âdo me a favorand eat that though. Weâre trying to finish off the last of it so we can cleanthe pot.â
Lance gave him a suspiciouslook, but the soup smelt good, and he hadnât eaten since lunch. He picked upthe spoon and dug in.
âHunk is a genius,â Lancesighed happily in-between spoonfuls.
âI know,â Shiro grinned andslid onto the bench next to Lance, stretching out his legs, âthatâs why I hiredhim.â
While Lance ate, Shiro eyedthe piles of books. There were a handful of texts, Introduction to ChineseLiterature, Ecology of Coastal Wetlands, and Organic Chemistry. The rest werelibrary books, including a pile of Monkey King comic books.
âSo how many finals do youhave left?â Shiro asked.
âFinished the paper for litand the research report for bio, but that,â he waved in the direction of thechemistry book, âis an abomination to mankind.â
Shiro snorted softly andreached for the chemistry book, flipping it open.
âI had to take a level twochemistry, but everyone said p-chem is awful,â Lance let his head fall backdown on the table, âI like biology though, so I thought organic chemistry mightbe okay, but itâs not. Itâs awful! And if I donât get at least a B on the final,Iâll fail the class, and itâs too late to withdraw and get a refund and I canâtafford to lose a whole class worth of tuition, but none of this makes any senseat all andâŚâ
âWhoa, Lance, slow down,buddy,â Shiro set the book down and started rubbing circles on Lanceâs back whenhis voice dissolved into sniffles, âitâs going to be okay.â
âNo, it wonât,â Lance pushedhimself up and rubbed his eyes on his sleeve, âI canât figure it out, and Iâm goingto ruin everything.â
âNo, youâre not,â Shirosqueezed his shoulder, âbecause I happened to have staffed my cafĂŠ withgeniuses.â
As if on que Ryner appearedat the table, setting a mug piled high with whipped cream and topped with blueglittering stars in front of Lance. Lance blinked at it dumbly, then lookedbetween Shiro and Ryner.
âOn the house to make up forcutting you off from caffeine,â Shiro grinned at him.
â⌠Iâm cut off?â Lance gavehim an utterly confused look.
âDefinitely,â Shiro nodded,âbut Ryner knows every science known to humanity, so I suspect she can help youmore then another round of caffeine.â
âOnly a slight hyperbola,â Rynergave Shiro an amused look, motioning him up, âabout the science, not thecoffee. You really donât need any more.â
Shiro stood, giving Lanceâshair a ruffle before letting Ryner slide into his spot.
Lance looked between the twoof them, eyes suspiciously bright before he dropped them to stare down at hisglittering drink. He sniffled, rubbed his eyes on his sleeve again, thenstraightened his shoulders.
âThank you,â he smiled up atthem, still looking a little teary eyed.
âIt is my absolute pleasure,âRyner smiled back, âdrink your hot chocolate while itâs still warm, and give mea few minutes to look over your study guide and text.â
Lance handed the papers andbooks over to her, then started making his way through the mount of starrywhipped cream with a spoon. Shiro left them to it, heading back to the counter.
As he cleaned and organizedbehind the counter, he kept glancing over at Lance and Ryner out of the cornerof his eye, their heads bowed over sheets of paper and books, Lanceâs shoulderslowly unhunching. It was a little thing, but it felt good to be able to helpsomeone before they spiraled too far into despair and exhaustion. It reallyhadnât taken much.
A laugh burst from Lance,light and easy, and Shiro felt light as well.
Staying open late for finalsweek was absolutely worth it.
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How about Mysterious Ticking Plot? đđ
Iâm not quite sure how to classify this one. Itâs kind of a modern fantasy au for Voltron, I guess. Basically, everybody, to a greater or lesser degree, has the ability to manipulate energy. This is a magical ability, not a scientific one.
People have natural propensities for different mediums to use when manipulating energy, like water or air or dirt. So in a sense, itâs an elemental au, but someone whoâs medium is plants could still hypothetically be able to work with dirt or air, but they wouldnât be very good at it and would never be as powerful as they are with their primary medium. Medium propensities tend to run in families.
All the paladins are from the same dusty desert town. Keith lives alone in a little cabin about half an hour from town. His parents are both gone, and his cousin Shiro, who came to live with Keith and his dad after the death of his own parents, was his legal guardian for a few years after Keithâs dad died, until Keith was legally an adult.
Pidge, Lance, and Hunk all live in town. Pidgeâs father and brother were involved in the same area of research that Keithâs father and later Shiro pursued. A sort of of mix of archeology and magical studies. The three of them were in search of a magical being called Voltron. While the few people who had even heard of it thought it was a mythological figure, the Holts and Keithâs family though it might be real.
Once Keith had settled into his first year of college, Shiro felt comfortable picking back up his studies and left with Sam and Matt on the Kerberos expedition into the deep jungles of South America. They disappeared and were declared dead. This left Keith completely alone, and Pidge very very angry.
The story picks up from there. If anyone is interested I can give more background on the other paladins or even more on Keithâs backstory.
Itâs title is there because I did something I almost never do. I started writing a story with no idea what it was or where it was going or anything at all about the world building. I just started writing.
Since this is already kind of long, Iâll put the excerpt below the cut.
Keep reading
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WIP Meme
Got tagged by @eastofthemoon
The Rules:
Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Send me an ask with the title that most intrigues you, or interests you and Iâll post a little snippet of it or tell you something about it!!
Blood Moon
Clone Babies
Clone Babies Chess
Coffee Shop
Deaged Keith
merbaby
Mysterious Ticking Plot
Vampire
If youâve already done this (or you just donât want to) feel free to ignore it. @bosstoaster, @banditywrites, @ladydouji, @butteredonions
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Super late but I only now saw the post for fake fic titles: âWhy Would I Wanna Be Right For You?â
An au for Sven-verse about how Lotor ended up as with the Guns of Gamara.
Someday Iâll finish the Wump Bingo story that introduces this idea, but for this title I would do a story starting with Lotor as a little boy being smuggled away by a maid (not his nanny; for all her faults, she was unflinchingly loyal to the Galra royal house and died protecting him, giving the maid time to get him to safety) and taken into hiding to escape the Altean genocide that Empress Allura instigated.
The story would follow him as he grows up and eventually finds his way into the Guns. The world he grows up in is very hostile, frightening, and difficult, but also full of wonders, courage found in unexpected places, and love found where all else has failed. Lotor is able to choose who he wants to be without the heavy handed influence of Zarkon and Haggar.
It seems as if everything in the Sven-verse ran parallel to our regular VLD reality until it came time for Allura to sleep for 10,000 years. Instead of sleeping and waking up too late to stop the Galra from over running the universe she loved, she stepped into the fray and razed the universe to dust, then rebuilt it as she saw fit.
Lotor lived through this. Zarkon and Honerva were still not nice people, they still chose power and knowledge over the good of their people and turned into quintessence zombies for their trouble. But Allura ended them before they could build their empire, then built one herself.
Lotor was barely six when his parents were killed the second time, and because of the massive amounts of quintessence he was exposed to both in the womb and after his birth, he has lived 10,000 years, all the way to the present, and still looks like heâs in his early 30s.
The story would follow him as he matures and grows and finds his way, through the early days with the fledgling Guns of Gamara where he took huge risks as a field operative, always on the verge of discovery by an empire that would kill him on sight, to the present, where he puts 10,000 years of experience and knowledge at the disposal of the Guns operatives as their chef strategist and mission controller.
Give me a made-up fic title, and Iâll tell you what I would write to go with it (or write a drabble, if the mood takes me).
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for the fic title thing: "Orange You Glad I Didn't Say Banana?"
Deaged Hunk! (also another drabble)
âKnock,knock!â
âWhoâsthere?â Lance answered dutifully.
âBanana!âthe little boy giggled.
âBananawho?â Lance scooped him up to sit on the counter, offering him a spoon so hecould stir the pot on the stove.
âKnock, knock!â
This wasall Pidgeâs fault. Well, Pidge and Hunkâs, but Hunk was too tiny and cute toblame for anything at the moment. Lance had told them to leave the weird quintessenceâŚpump⌠thing alone, but of course, they hadnât listened.
âWhoâsthere?â Lance repeated.
âBanana!âHunk wiggled in anticipation.
âBananawho?â Lance gently squished Hunkâs cheeks, making him purse his lips.
âKnock,knock,â Hunk got out despite his squished face.
Pidge hadsquealed appropriately over how cute six year old Hunk was, and nuzzled hisround rosy checks like a cat until he was giggling helplessly, and then thepuns had started. She had thought they were funny for the first dozen times,then run and hid under the pretense of trying to help Coran figure out how toturn Hunk back to normal.
âWhoâs there?âLance squished his nose against Hunkâs.
âBanana,âHunk did his best to push back against Lance with his cheeks still being held,squishing their noses even more.
âYouâre afruit loop,â Lance let him go, âI need the spoon back if youâre not going tostir.â
âIâllstir! Iâll stir!â Hunk hugged the spoon to his chest.
âGo forit,â Lance nodded to towards the pot.
Hunk leanedover the pot, sniffing at the soup before sticking the spoon in, âthis smellsweird.â
âWeirdgood or weird poison?â Lance asked.
Hunksniffed it again, face solemn, âweird good, but not like momâs.â
Shiro haddone just fine with little Hunk, letting him follow him around, holding hishand when he got nervous, and answering his hundreds of questions about theship, even if most of his answers had been âI donât know.â He had needed abreak after a while, though.
âThatâsgood,â Lance leaned back on the counter next to him, âbe sad if we were havingpoison for dinner.â
âYou have tosay the next line,â Hunk demanded as he began to stir.
âBananawho?â Lance asked obediently.
âKnock,knock,â Hunk tried to stifle his giggles this time.
Keith hadbeen fantastic with Hunk and had had him most of the day while Lance had beenworking with Allura and Shiro on trying to figure out if they could moveforward with their latest mission while down a leg. The short answer was no.
Lance had pickedup Hunk to help him make dinner so Keith could get some training in. They hadfound out very quickly that watching any kind of combat training scared Hunk.He had burst into tears the first time he had seen Keith go up against a gladiator,and Keith had nearly gotten clocked in the head he had been so distracted.
âWhoâsthere?â Lance asked.
âBanana!âHunk grinned like he was very proud of himself.
âBananawho?â Lance reached over top of Hunk to get the salt down from the cupboard, âtastethat and tell me if it needs salt, but blow on it first so you donât burn yourtongue.â
Hunscooped up some soup with his stirring spoon and blew on it, his forehead wrinklingwith consecration.
âLet metry it first to make sure itâs cool enough,â Lance leaned down, taking a tinysip from the spoon, âall good.â
Hunk tooka sip and considered it very seriously, âI think it needs more salt.â
âMe too,âLance put in a pinch of salt, and Hunk stirred it in.
Hunk triedthe soup again, then reached over to take another pinch of salt from Lance, puttingit in and stirring more, then tasting again.
âThere!Now itâs good!â he held the spoon out for Lance to taste.
Lance blewon the spoon then tasted it, âperfect! Great job Hunk!â
Hunkbeamed at him, âcan we make desert too?â
âAlreadymade,â Lance turned the heat off and put a lid on the pot to keep it warm, âweârehaving ice cream, but you can put topping on it if you want.â
âOkay,âHunk put the spoon down and held his arms out so Lance could help him down.
âLetâs goset the table,â Lance settled him on his hip instead of setting him down, enjoyingthe weight of a little kid in his arms again while he could.
âOkay,â Hunkwrapped his arms around Lanceâs neck, âhey Lance?â
âYeah,âLance said as if he didnât know what would come next.
âKnock,knock!â
âWhoâsthere?â Lance bounced him hard enough to make him giggle.
âOrange!âHunk said triumphally.
âOrangewho?â Lance was a little relieved they had finally gotten this far.
âOrangeyou glad I didnât say banana!â Hunk shrieked with laughter, his whole bodywriggling with happiness.
âI am soglad,â Lance blew a raspberry against Hunkâs cheek.
âWas it a funnyjoke?â Hunk asked eagerly, âit was funny, right?â
âThefunniest,â Lance snuggled him close, âyou are the bestest, funniest person Iknow.â
âI am?âHunk looked up at him wide-eyed.
âYou are,âLance kissed his cheek, then set him on his feet next to the table, âalways.â
Give me a made-up fic title, and Iâll tell you what I would write to go with it (or write a drabble, if the mood takes me).
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