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eyrieofsynapses · 3 years

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i’ll be your god of loss

(from “The God of Loss” by Darlingside, which will make you cry.)

so I was thinking about the trio and kids. Because these people, you know, they adore kids! they’re great with them! And they might not admit to that, they may not believe it, but we know it, we see it with Eliot and Molly, with Hardison and Trevor, with Parker and Josie, with the kids from The Stork Job and The Fairy Godparents Job and their clients’ children and so very many more.

Most of all we see it with Breanna. We see how they mentor her, how they provide advice, how they encourage her, how they build her up, how they laugh with her and speak of teaching her and telling her stories from the beginning. they unashamedly adore her. And they are so very good with her—they know how she looks up to them, they know they are always watched, and they behave like it. They are truly wonderful with her.

We know they love kids. We know, too, that they see the foster system’s flaws, and we know they fear for the children they save from bad situations. We see how they instinctively nurture the kids of the clients who have lost a parent. We watch how they will lift up the children of the marks who do not treat them well.

But they are not meant for white-picket fences.

These are not the kinds of people who settle down. They do not get tired of what they do one day and say “perhaps we’d best end this now.” They never get tired of it. They adore their work, they adore their life, they cannot imagine anything else. They will never willingly stop.

But there is a point where need eclipses want. There will be a day when they cannot do it anymore.

This is a known fact, but it is not a loved one.

The years trickle by. The time of Redemption comes and goes. They raise team after team, create an ever-reaching map of International, help people by the thousands and by the singles. And they are not the management. They leave that to the capable people they have trained, the ones they trust with their lives and more, and they keep doing the jobs, they stay involved, they get their hands dirty. Because there is nothing else for them. They began this doing what they loved, after all, and that love has not faded. If anything it has only grown.

Parker cannot sit still in an office all day, and Eliot cannot watch others fight and listen to them take the blows that he should, and Hardison will never be able to see all the things his algorithms raise and all the troubles that pass in the media and not do anything about it himself. This is against their very nature.

But the years go on and on, decades pass, and Hardison realizes one day that this cannot go on forever.

It is Hardison, because it is him who sits in the headquarters or the van or the discreetly close location with his laptop open and monitoring frequencies. It is Hardison, not Eliot or Parker, who can pay the most attention to the every soft grunt and caught breath and withheld noise of pain.

It is Hardison who realizes, one fateful day, that those moments increase day by day, job by job, and his injury logs have grown exponentially thicker in the last year. He watches their medical supplies drain away faster and faster even as he replaces them. More and more there are mornings when the other two linger between the sheets for longer than they used to.

It is he who watches Eliot squint ever more at the files and sees his glasses come out of his pocket with unusual regularity. There is a box full of spares in the bottom drawer of their wardrobe for when they break on the job. Hardison begins tipping the lid more often when he starts hearing the crunch of broken glass in his husband’s jacket pocket. They disappear faster these days.

(One day Hardison has had enough. He makes the toughest case he can and slips it into Eliot’s jacket pocket the night before a job. Eliot never says anything, but it lays on the bedside table sometimes when they’re off, and the glasses stop disappearing from the box so often.)

It is he who notices how Parker reinforces her rigs more and more, how ropes and straps support more than they used to and stretch further. The vents don’t thud so often these days. She has hung a hammock high in the rafters of their house, and he sees her less in the harness and more tucked away there.

(He adds padded bottoms to some of the vents and larger places to rest. Parker never says anything, but the vents rattle a little more often.)

It is he who observes how Eliot isn’t at the punching bag as regularly anymore, how he wraps his hands so carefully when he is, he who sees how Parker does not stretch quite as far as she used to, how she painstakingly plan jobs where she does not have to do a backbend or a particular contortion.

It is he who watches every time they step out—not jump out, no, not anymore—of the van, carefully holding on to the sides, and thinks to himself as he watches them walk away—

Is this the last time I will ever see you?

It’s Hardison who, whenever he finds a new job for them to do, eyes the circumstances and determines whether it’s something he can ship off to another team or not. His algorithms are prioritized now to chances of harm rather than potential jobs, attuned to the ever-growing injury logs. Their jobs begin to skew further to grifts and simpler building plans. But that never stops him wondering: Will this be the last job we ever take?

Will I send them to their deaths today?

For it is not his hair that fills with grey streaks faster and faster. It is Parker’s. When he sits behind her on the bed with her brush beside him, carefully separating her hair into strands for braiding, he finds more and more of them silvering.

(He watches her braid it every day, but some mornings she slips before him anyway. She was delighted when she discovered he could do it, courtesy of too many little sisters and not enough time in busy school mornings. It brings a grin to his face every time he thinks of her sunshine smile.)

It is Eliot’s, for there are late nights when Hardison finds him stretched out and half-asleep on the couch, and when he comes back with a blanket Eliot will be sitting up and waiting. He always sits beside him. Sometimes, Eliot lays back down with his head in his husband’s lap and lets him card gentle fingers through his hair. Those cherished moments become bittersweet when he finds that it is not so thick nor as deep in color as he remembers (though it is always soft).

And it is Hardison who bolts awake in the midst of the night with the ringing of the comms in his ears, clutching at the sheets to reassure himself he is not in the van he is not in the headquarters he is not on a job he does not have the earbud in his ear he is not listening to his lovers dying.

These nightmares plagued him from the beginning. He cannot count the number of times he has dreamt of sucking death-rattle breaths, the crack of spines, the sound of screaming in his ears, cannot count the times he has dreamt of searching and searching for bodies. Sometimes he does find them, staring eyes and crushed ribs and mangled limbs. Sometimes he doesn’t. Sometimes they aren’t dead at all—but those times he never finds them. He can never figure out which is worse.

But the nightmares have never been so bad as they are now.

Other nights he does not sleep. Other nights, he sits awake and watches his lovers’ scarred chests rise and fall in deep slumbering breaths, and wonders when will I lose you? A year from now? Two? Or only months, only weeks?

What if it’s tomorrow?

He wakes to the others’ weeping often. But he thinks they are the ones comforting him more these days.

Finally Hardison has had enough.

They can’t do this any longer. He can’t do this any longer. Hardison cannot live without them, these two lights of his life, his sun and moon and bright diamond stars—but he knows he will die last, should they continue down this path, and he will die alone and many years from now.

For it is not he who takes punch after punch from men decades younger than himself, who climbs into stories-high elevator shafts where one wrong button-press could end it all, who stares down the barrels of guns without one himself, who hangs off the sides of buildings by his fingertips, who pushes and pushes and pushes his body day in and day out. His husband and wife are resilient. The odds say that they should have been unable to keep doing this a decade ago—and the odds are wrong.

But Eliot and Parker are not the kinds of people who can merely stop. There will never be a day, Hardison knows, when they will sit down with him and say we do not want to do this anymore. They will push and push and push themselves till they break.

Hardison knows what their breaking will look like. His dreams have told him so. Hardison will not, will never, let that happen on his watch. He will have to stop them.

If he asked, they would. It would take coercing, it would take shouting and arguing and probably many hours of the two of them off on their own and thinking, but they would.

But Hardison turns this over in his mind as he forges paintings and writes code and sends out emails to the teams, tries to picture stopping, and it makes him go nearly as cold as the thought of breaking does.

Stopping means no more jobs. No more jobs means…

Well, it means a lot of time spent volunteering, he supposes, and overseeing International’s teams. It means a lot more nights spent at home and not hotels. More of Eliot’s home cooked meals, he guesses, and more movie nights, more trips for fun. The medical kit wouldn’t have to be refilled nearly as often. Eliot’s box of glasses would never have to be replenished again. It means fewer days spent watching his partners hobble around and deny that they need to sit. Hardison wouldn’t have to plan jobs around the weather that makes their bones ache, or watch Parker wince as she drops out of a vent, or notice how Eliot needs the volume in his comm brought up higher than he used to.

There would be no heart monitors that spike and fall on the screens.

Hardison thinks of this, and then he imagines Parker and Eliot in their house, day in and day out, and it brings a shake to his breath rather than a steadiness.

Ever-moving Parker and Eliot, his never-stopping always-going wife and husband, for whom he has to fill the house with distractions to keep them from pacing and snapping and looking for trouble. Parker has vents and climbing systems and a room full to the brim of boxes of locks, safes, puzzle-boxes, books of riddles, absolutely anything and everything that could challenge her.

There’s a small gym for Eliot. Hardison always puts new gadgets and cookbooks in the kitchen, and he’s found that there are indeed some books that Eliot will spend hours reading (assuming he can find his glasses). A guitar found its way into the living room one day, and now books of music pile up on the nearby shelves. He keeps a closet specifically for outdoor gear.

But there are only so many meals that can be cooked. Parker is already bored of most of the puzzle room. More than that, they both have to move. Challenges from books and puzzles and games have never and will never be enough for them.

Hardison thinks of them in that house, day in and day out, growing wearier and wearier of what they have, growing tired of what life has to offer, and it sends a racking shudder through him.

He goes on, day in and day out, and he watches them, and they push themselves, and he worries and he wonders and he dreams and he fears.

And then, one day, it hits him.

They’re sending off yet another kid to the foster system. Hardison will track them and make sure they find the right place, but it always aches a little to watch them go. He’s been through that hell. There is nothing he wouldn’t give not to help them. The three of them always see them off, but it never feels like enough.

This time, though, he’s rushing, running to meet them. The kid is already leaving. Parker and Eliot watch them go, tension laced in their shoulders, and it occurs to him that he rarely ever watches them watch the kid.

They look with the same love in their eyes he saw so many years ago. In a moment he is struck with memories: listening to Eliot teaching Molly how to hit balloons with a dart in the mirror, Parker putting her hands over Josie’s ears as she taught her to break into a car, the worried love in his husband’s voice as he searched for the girl he had known for mere hours, the outraged passion of his wife’s protectiveness over the teenager she had seen so much of herself in.

There is the ringing of Parker’s half-choked declaration they’ll wind up like me. There is the way Eliot had spoken of Cory, a boy who still carried his father’s lunchbox while he worked in a mine for his family. There’s the kid from the boxing ring and the kid whose father was killing himself in the ice rink and the children tackling Eliot in the school and, and, and—

—and Hardison remembers teaching bright, precocious Trevor about hacking when they were trying to steal a goddamn potato of all things. And of course Breanna, wonderful, perfect Breanna, who leads International now. Breanna, whom he spent so many long, long days and nights teaching how to hack and how to build software and hardware and engineering and whatever else she asked of him. Breanna, who called even when it was four in the morning for her, just to hear his tales of the crew. She still calls. Half the time it’s only to hear their voices.

With her comes the loud, bustling noise of Nana’s house, the shouting echoing off the walls, the warmth of his little siblings on his hip, the attention and focus it took to put braid after braid in his sisters’ hair. Nana was forever busy with the kids. He still loves coming over as often as he can to help. One thing never changes—her house is forever noisy. There are always new kids around, and there are always lessons to be taught: how to fold laundry, how to dance along to a song without worrying whether you’re doing it right, how to complete all of your schoolwork for the night, how to speak kindly, how to work together, and the most important one of all:

Love yourself.

Nana’s work is never done. She is always busy.

Eliot and Parker cannot stand to be still. They need to be doing something. But most of all, they have to be helping someone.

The puzzle snaps together like a flash of lightning. As the thunder rolls, so does his mind: he knows precisely what he needs to do.

First there’s the matter of housing. Their house is big, but not that big, and anyway, the only home that matters to them is each other. Nana’s only one person, and she can manage plenty of kids on her own. Between the three of them, Hardison is sure they’ll wind up with quite the brood.

There are any number of mansions lying around the States. It’s shocking how many there are. They’re not small, either: most of them could fit a whole extended family in them, though most of the time they’re just bought by too-rich people who can’t hope to fill a quarter of the space. Hardison should know. The crew has infiltrated plenty of them. But he knows they’ll find a way to put one to good use.

He searches for the ones that are unlikely to be bought and only takes up space. There’s a lot of them, half too damaged to be good for anything, but one sticks out: secluded with beautiful grounds, an area with good (but not too good) schools, a half-decent price point, and a bit of a fixer-upper.

Standing on ladders and driving in nails isn’t not physical, but it’s a lot better than dodging punches or dropping two stories off a building. Giving Eliot and Parker a project right off the bat will help ease the blow of quitting the jobs.

Then he hunts down research. He already has shelves upon shelves of books on psychology and parenting and foster children and anything else that could be helpful, but there’s always more to read. A refresher course is important.

While he’s got algorithms searching for that, he sets some to hunting down more details on the local area as well as building renovations, then begins building a plan. He’ll have to introduce the idea slowly. Parker and Eliot won’t be opposed, per say, but getting them to completely agree will be a challenge.

It takes a few weeks, but it’s going well, and Hardison’s almost ready to present his idea to them.

Then his world shatters.

It’s another job, another day, another time when he watches his lovers head out the door and wonders will it be this time?

Except then will it be this time? changes to oh God, it’s this time.

Eliot’s breaths choke off at the same time something crunches.

Parker screams his name so loud Hardison’s ears ring. Or maybe that’s him—maybe that’s him screaming so hard that the taste of blood coats his throat—but it doesn’t matter because Parker’s cut off with a jerk and the comms go dead and they are dead dead dead and—

The world spins and drops out. The next few hours are black but for agonizing pain.

His only memory is not of sight or sound or hearing. It’s touch, the thready warmth of two pulses flickering under his fingers.

They tell him later that he found them in the nick of time: two unconscious bodies collapsed side-by-side in a back alley, and him, clutching their wrists with 911’s number still glowing on the phone beside them. Apparently he rode in the ambulance, because they couldn’t get him away from the other two without restraining him. Every time they tried they feared they’d hurt him.

What he remembers next is this: waking in a plastic chair, head dizzy (with sedatives, he learns later), an ice-cold knife of grief sunk into his heart and tears coating his cheeks, to the steady paired beeping of twin heart monitors.

They survive. Miraculously, they survive, somehow with only minimal injuries. Hardison knows it’s only because of the advancements made within the last few years. Three days later they’re out of the hospital and back home, Eliot on crutches and unhappy about it, Parker complaining at length over the stitches in her arm. Hardison can’t even be annoyed by it. They’re here and they’re alive and they’re still here.

He gives them the evening. But the next day he’s up even before them, spreading papers on the table and making breakfast at the stove (because you learn some things when your husband is a world-class cook) when the two of them come to the table.

When they ask, he doesn’t bother to soften the blow. This is the last time he’s doing that. They’re done.

Eliot and Parker look at each other, then at him. They nod.

He blinks. Just like that? he wonders, and then asks it aloud.

“We don’t want to hurt you again,” they answer, and his heart could break with relief.

When he presents the plans they answer with all the joy he had hoped for. They’re worried, of course—will they be fit to care for children?—but Hardison only rolls his eyes and reminds them of Breanna and Josie and Molly and Cory and all the rest, and they relent.

Two months later they move out to the mansion. It’s a difficult project. Even Hardison didn’t anticipate how long it would be (though Eliot grumbled at him about how much harder this would be than it seemed, dammit, Hardison, what have you gotten us into this time?) but it’s good work, hard work, busy work. He doesn’t have to watch them pace in a hotel room with boredom. There is no angry snapping born of too much time spent sitting around. They work and Hardison blasts music and the other teams chat with them over voice calls.

Some nights Eliot sits in the central hall, the ceiling four stories above them and laced with Parker’s rigs, and plays new songs for them on his guitar. They all sing along when it’s one they know. The acoustics of the room are perfect for echoing and strengthening their voices.

Other nights they curl up on a pile of king mattresses spread three-wide and two-deep, blankets heaped high, and whisper stories to one another before falling asleep to the songs of morning birds outside the windows.

Hardison still wakes screaming. Eliot and Parker do too. But it’s not every other night anymore, and now that they aren’t on jobs, his nightmares begin to recede.

(Of course there’s always the recurring one that did happen. Sometimes he sleeps with their wrists in his hands or his fingers pressed to their necks, just to reassure himself their hearts are still beating. If Eliot and Parker are still awake, one of them will pull him close and press his ear against their chest, and he falls asleep listening to their heartbeat.)

Some of the International people show up to help. They come with suggestions and ideas that get put to good use. Breanna delights in helping them pick out the tools for a massive workshop. His other siblings come too, and he puts them to work. Nana is too old for traveling these days (though he knows she’ll outlive them all), but she talks to them over video calls and gives them tips on how to make everything work.

“How on earth are you going to handle so many kids?” some of them ask. “You’re looking at a school’s worth.”

The three of them just smile. They’re up to the task—and besides that, there’s a number of people from other crews who are also on the brink of retirement. An entire section of the manor is planned for incoming helpers: they won’t be alone for long.

Finally the mansion is done. Or, well, done enough. It’ll always be a project. There will always be a room that needs repainting, or a sink that breaks out of nowhere and needs repairing, or a piece of roof that’s leaking. But it is more than livable—oh, so beautifully livable, the best home Hardison has ever found for them, filled to the brim with all they could ever want.

There is a library with shelves that stretch two floors up, filled with more books than he could read in a lifetime and skylights flooding the room with sunlight. The gym has endless features: a dance studio, a martial arts room, weights, gymnastic mats and bars, a goddamn ball pit because Parker loved the idea, and slides to go with it. Eliot has the biggest and best kitchen he could have ever dreamed of. There’s even a walk-in fridge and freezer.

(“The hell do you expect me to be cooking for, an army?” he asks once, and Hardison laughs.

“Worse. Kids.”)

They’ve made the bedrooms a little plainer than usual, though they have rooms filled to the brim with furniture and curtains and decorations of all shapes and sizes. It will be the kids’ home too. They deserve to decorate their own rooms, no matter how long they’ll be staying.

There are movie rooms, and rooms of pillows and couches and blankets, hidey-holes aplenty (Parker knows them all), games, puzzles, music (Hardison’s pretty sure a band could set up shop in there), art, writing spaces, closets and closets waiting to be filled, bathrooms with tubs big enough to be small pools, a real pool both indoors and out, and Hardison sometimes loses track of what else. They make sure all but some reserve rooms are used and functional. None of them will let this space go to waste.

Getting everything up to code is a job and a half, but there’s plenty of disabled International people (and Hardison’s siblings too) who give them pointers and let them know who the right people to call are. Hardison delights in picking out elevator music. Eliot informs him that programming them to play The Imperial March every time he uses them is not as funny as he thinks. Parker plans little puzzles in Braille and puts them in all sorts of places.

She, of course, has rigging all over the place. The high ceilings are her dream. There are hammocks everywhere. Eliot adores the greenhouse and gardens, spending hours mulling over plans and determining precisely what will work best. Hardison watches the lawn service mowing the massive yards and mulls over the best use for them. There are paths aplenty for running and walking. Eliot’s got a whole space mapped out for an orchard. Parker’s claimed a not-insignificant section of it for mazes and a high ropes course (which is going to be godawful hard to build, but he can’t wait to watch the kids on it).

Hardison’s read a lot of books and seen a lot of research supporting animal-raising as an excellent activity for kids. And he’s always wanted a dog.

When they visit the local shelter they end up with three (because Eliot’s a softie for them) and two cats. He plans a chicken coop in the back and goes to long-term planning for more farm-type animals. Parker has come to love horses over the years, and he knows Eliot’s fondness has never faded. Maybe a stable or two.

Their adoption and foster papers process not long before they’re done. (Hardison technically already had them, but they hadn’t been done the legal way, and though the law is pretty stupid about this whole thing he still wants to do it right.) Then it’s time to get to work.

They’re careful, of course. They begin with two siblings in the summer. Both are teenagers, that age where it’s hard to get them into a foster home, let alone to adopt. (Of course the three of them aren’t looking for adoption unless the kids want it. They’re human beings: they get to choose their own parents.) Both are quiet and wary, looking overwhelmed as they stare up into the manor’s heights.

Parker and Hardison exchange glances, wincing. They’d known from experience that this might be tricky.

They start small, relegating everything to a single wing. It’s around the size of an ordinary house, maybe a bit bigger, and while the three of them have their own rooms elsewhere they make sure to sleep nearby. (That’s something else the kids look at them strangely for: there aren’t many polycules who foster kids, after all. There aren’t many polyamorous couples visible in the media period, though that’s changing with Breanna’s generation. )

When Eliot loads one kid’s laundry into the machine (and oh, they need to go shopping so badly for these kids), he finds a worn dress at the bottom of a pile of boy’s clothes. The same kid, he recalls, who had shaken their head a little when he had asked them about haircuts, whose hair was already brushing their shoulders. It’s fraying at the edges, obviously well loved. There’s a hole in the skirt. When he brings the laundry up he takes out the sewing kit (well, a piece of it—there is a truly enormous area of the arts room dedicated to material arts) and makes sure to fix the hole before he puts everything in the closet. The dress goes first and foremost, hung delicately on a special hanger.

The days go by, the kids become more open, and a routine falls into place. They fill closets with dresses and scarves and put boxes of pins with pronouns in their rooms. Eliot teaches them to chop vegetables and shows them basic self-defense. He helps them walk the dogs, and when he offers they let him teach them meditation.

Parker takes them to therapy (a tricky conversation, but well worth it) and shows the younger one how to climb. The older one is more interested in puzzles, and she happily complies, bringing out a massive box full to the brim with puzzle-boxes.

Hardison, for his part, puts together movie nights and video gaming sessions. He shows off the library and makes sure they know where to find everything, as well as the rules of the house. When one of them shows an interest in fandom, he makes sure they know where the cosplay stuff is. One day he starts a DnD campaign with all four of his family members.

Four becomes five, five becomes seven, the school year begins and some choose homeschooling and others choose public. Homework is done, meals are cooked, dogs are fed, cats are befriended, lightsaber battles play out in the yards and Nerf gun fights are had in the halls (Eliot still prefers a shield), pillow fights go down, tears are cried and arguments ring out in the halls, the fridge doors and pin boards and walls are covered in artwork, kids eight, nine, and ten show up, conversations about queerness are had, a Pride parade is attended, there’s therapy and therapy and so much therapy, sports teams are joined, clubs are attended, problems occur and they handle it, they handle it, they handle it all no matter how hard it is.

Hardison isn’t sure he’s ever seen the other two so happy. He, for one, cannot contain his joy. The children are hard but they are wonderful, bright sparks ready to go out into the world with no one to dim them.

There is a baby one day that International directs to them. The rest of the kids dote on them. The work is hard, but they manage anyway, and there’s three of them to get up when the little one cries. There is nothing more endearing than watching Eliot asleep with a tiny baby crooked in his arm or Parker carefully climbing with them strapped to her chest.

One day, as he’s sitting on the porch with the other two at his sides and watching the kids play, he glances to the sides and realizes that his partners have gone fully gray. He himself finds his joints creaking more and more these days.

The International retirees are doing fantastic and Breanna is the perfect heir to their throne, directing teams with all her brilliance while getting her own work in on the side. She’s mentioned she thinks she might hand it off to one of her own proteges, just so she can go back to some of the old work.

We built a legacy, he thinks, and then, We built a legacy, and we are here now, and they did not die and leave me here alone, and we are happy.

He realizes Eliot and Parker are looking at him with that we know what you’re thinking expression. They smile at him when he notices. Parker kisses his cheek and Eliot pulls him closer on the porch swing, and though they say nothing at all, he knows they’re all thinking the same thing:

We got our happy ending, and we made sure everyone else will too.

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adventures-in-a-world-of-fiction · 3 years

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The Leverage/Stargate fic I’ll probably never write

I have an idea for a Leverage/Stargate crossover fic but no drive to actually write it. So I’m going to lay down the plot summary of the story that exists in my head. If anyone wants to take some or all of this idea and flesh it out into a full story, you’re welcome to it.

AU!Eliot Spencer went to work for Stargate Command early on in its existence and has been there ever since. He's extremely good at his job but in a ruthless way that has everyone at best wary of him and at worst terrified. He's the guy you send on the most dangerous missions, but he's also the guy you send when you want something awful doing without any questions asked.

The Goa'uld have put a bomb in a child and killing the child is the only way to stop it going off and killing thousands? Eliot Spencer is your guy. The megadeathray gun is surrounded by slaves as human shields? Eliot Spencer is the guy who will blow it up while everyone else is busy arguing about whether there's a better way. Need someone to headshot a Goa'uld and not care about the innocent host? He's the guy who will pull the lever on your trolley problem while everyone else is still arguing the ethical ramifications.

They keep him around because he is really good at his job but also because everything he does is technically for the greater good and you can see the logic in shooting the guy with the alien virus before he can spread it and cause a plague but still, you'd think the guy would show a little remorse about shooting an innocent person in the head. So he doesn't really have friends in the SGC just reluctant allies, but he's doing good and saving the world in his own, violent way.

But then one of the science teams discover something that's giving off the same sort of energy readings as the quantum mirror and Eliot is there to act as bodyguard/escort to the scientists. They bring the shiny, aliens toys back through the Gate but then something gets activated by accident, zapping Eliot, and then suddenly canon!Eliot is there in the base, with an apron and a wooden spoon because he was in the middle of cooking dinner.

Naturally, he's immediately on the offensive because he's apparently been kidnapped and these people are all in military uniform, so he starts fighting and takes down six marines with a wooden spoon but then AU!Eliot is there fighting him and they're evenly matched. Neither can get an upper hand and they only stop when someone shoots them both with a zat while they're locked in combat and knocks them out.

Eliot wakes up heavily restrained and they try to explain that they think he's been pulled from a parallel universe and of course Eliot doesn't believe a word of it because it sounds like something from one of Hardison's weird TV shows, and the guy who looked like him was clearly a trick. He's scared that the other Eliot is part of some plot to get to his team and so of course he's not going to give them any sort of cooperation. Everyone else is scared of him because they know how scary their Eliot Spencer is and they don't want to get on the wrong side of him, but they need to get one of the techs to try and undo what was done, so they get one of the team to bring in the alien gizmo - and it's Hardison.

The Hardison of this world was still a computer genius and got recruited to get alien and human tech to work together. He doesn't really know Eliot because the techs tend to spend most of their time with other techs generally, but also that guy's scary. He really doesn't want to be in the same room as two of them, glaring at each other, because if their Eliot Spencer is the good version, he really doesn't want to know what the evil mirror universe Eliot Spencer is like. But he drew the short straw so he's got to come in and try to get some tech they barely understand to zap this guy back to where he came from.

Canon!Eliot recognises Hardison at once but thinks that he's here as part of a con as a rescue mission, so he pretends to have no idea who he is, but plays along. When Hardison starts explaining about parallel universes and alternate timelines and quantum mirrors, Eliot listens and pretends he might start to believe this technobabble and asks questions like he's starting to be convinced. The first test to send Eliot back to his universe doesn't work but he agrees to cooperate if Hardison keeps working to send him home, because he needs to get out of these restraints anyway if Hardison's rescue plan is to have any chance of succeeding. And the other people who are around standing guard or watching the events unfold are surprised that Eliot would believe Hardison over an alternate universe version of himself.

"Of course I don't trust me. I know me!"

But AU!Eliot knows him too and thinks that he's been convinced too easily and that this is a trick. He knows he would never be so quick to believe a total stranger and thinks that Eliot is just lying to get out of the restraints and then he'll start fighting everyone again, probably taking that tech as a hostage.

But while all this is going on, people are referring to Hardison by his real name and talking to him like he's been here for years, and canon!Eliot starts getting weirded out because Hardison would never use his real name in a con and he has a very distinctive tell when he's playing a part and he's not showing that tell now.

AU!Eliot wouldn't just announce that he doesn't think this guy is telling the truth so he beckons whatever senior officer is present over to the far corner so that they can talk quietly but he can still keep an eye on canon!Eliot and warns him about what he thinks the guy is planning. Meanwhile, Hardison is still running tests on canon!Eliot with the alien tech and now no one is close enough to overhear, so Eliot lets his hair hang in front of his face to shield his mouth from the security cameras and whispers, "Is Parker okay?"

Hardison just goes, "Who's Parker?" in a voice loud enough that everyone in the room can hear it.

"Damn it, Hardison!"

The senior office asks Hardison what happened and he repeats back exactly what Eliot said to him. That's what convinces Eliot that this is real because he knows that Hardison would never do anything to expose Parker and he wouldn't blurt something like that out in the middle of a con after all the years they've been doing this.

"You're not my Hardison, are you?"

"Your Hardison?!"

And Eliot tries to then convince them that he now believes them, even though they're more suspicious than ever because he was pretending to believe them before. Eliot just looks at Hardison and says, "I swear on your Nana's chicken, chilli caserole recipe that I won't hurt you if you let me out of these restraints."

Everyone else is really confused but Hardison is astonished because Nana's chicken chilli caserole recipe is sacred. It's a family secret, but she will only give the recipe to family members she deems worthy, meaning that only one of her foster kids has ever been told it and Hardison (who consists off gummy frogs and orange soda in every universe) has never so much glimpsed the page it's written on. It's a meal that is served on the specialest of special occasions and Nana would guard that recipe with her life.

"You know Nana's recipe?"

"I proved myself worthy at your engagement party. She gave me the recipe for the wedding."

"I'm married in your universe?!"

"Not legally." Because three-way unions aren't legal and besides, the guy they had officiate their wedding dropped out of priest school to become an insurance agent con artist, so it's not exactly official, but that's never stopped them. Hardison is still confused but thinks that maybe it wasn't legal because of gay marriage rules and this means he had an unofficial commitment ceremony to Eliot Spencer. He has to sit down while he processes this.

After some discussion, they let Eliot out of the restraints and he spends a little bit of time in the SGC while Hardison works on the tech. He talks to the alternate version of himself and suggests he take a cooking class and tells him he should get to know Hardison better because, "Once you get past the annoying surface part that makes you want to murder him, he's one of the smartest, bravest, and best people you could ever hope to meet, and half the irritating stuff he does is just to make you smile."

"And the other half?"

"He's just being irritating," but Eliot says this with a soft, caring smile that AU!Eliot hasn't seen in his reflection in a very long time and that makes him think it's worth giving it a shot.

And Eliot talks to Hardison too, telling him that he has absolute trust in his ability to work out all this alien tech stuff and get him home safely because he has people there who need him because he doesn't trust Hardison to feed himself any with more nutritional value than gummy frogs without him there to take care of him. And he convinces Hardison to take a chance on this universe's Eliot because if anyone can get past his defences, it's him. Or Parker, but she doesn't seem to be around in this universe.

And that seems like the perfect moment for Parker to appear out of a vent because she wanted to give herself a challenge breaking into a facility with more security than any museum and she's been listening in on all of this stuff as it unfolds.

So this universe's Hardison and Eliot convince the SGC guards not to shoot Parker because she has a really useful skillset, and canon!Eliot wishes them luck as he gets sent bak to his own world, where his Parker and Hardison are in the middle of tearing the criminal underworld into a million pieces to find out what happened to him.

#fic idea #fanfic prompt #not!fic #Leverage #Stargate SG-1 #fanfic

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pale-silver-comb · 4 years

Note

I'm watching an episode of B99, and Gina is distracting Boyle by asking him what the difference between a skillet and a frying pan is. This scene has such Eliot Spencer vibes and I can't stop thinking about him ranting, talking about the Very Distinctive Difference between the skillet and frying pan, and how dare Hardison implying Eliot doesn't know what he's doing in the kitchen (in the background you can see Parker stealing either some of Eliot's food or cereal and orange soda, Eliot banned.

YESSSSSSSSSSSS.

It starts as a way to steal food without Eliot noticing but, of course, Eliot quickly catches on and replaces all the cereal and orange soda with healthier alternatives (but putting it in the same packaging).

The first day Parker and Hardison successfully retrieve their cereal and orange soda, only to quickly discover it’s a multi-grain cereal and pure orange juice (with pulp) is the best morning Eliot has had in a month as he gets to watch his boyfriend and girlfriend stubbornly pretend to enjoy their stolen goods with Hardison making exaggerated “mmm” sounds, all the while holding Parker back who looks ready to straight up murder Eliot over her missing fortune cookies.

Over the weeks, Hardison and Parker continuously swap the food back in plain sight of Eliot with smug looks but by the next morning it’s always replaced by the healthy options again and, honestly, at this point it’s not even about the food anymore because the loft is open plan - it’s monitored on a video feed - and there’s no way Eliot should be able to sneak in to the kitchen without Hardison, at the very least, seeing him.

And oh, it is ON.

This goes on for months. Parker hiding in the vents while she plans for their next jobs. Hardison setting up motion sensors so he’s alerted to every single time someone enters the kitchen.

Sophie is contacted.

Parker begins to suspect Hardison is a double-agent.

Sex is withheld.

It’s all very tense.

It’s a year to the date when Parker and Hardison watch as Eliot, very deliberately, gets up half-way through the movie they’re watching, crosses the room to the closet where Eliot keeps his more non-essential weapons and first aid kits, only to walk inside and close the door.

Parker and Hardison share a confused look but don’t take their eyes off the door. Especially as nothing happens for several minutes.

That is, until they hear a popping sound, and one of the kitchen cupboard doors- the cereal cupboard door - swings open to reveal a small hole in the back of it and Eliot’s smug, smiling face on the other side as he shakes Parker’s favourite cereal and Hardison’s orange soda at them and winks.

The man dug a whole secret tunnel. In their own home. Just to lower Parker and Hardison’s morning sugar intake.

Hardison doesn’t know whether to be impressed or affronted.

Parker pretends to be angry but she’s too eager to crawl through the tunnel space to care.

And anyway. Not like this game was a con in itself to trick their boyfriend into making them fancy breakfasts every morning when they complained about their missing cereal and soda. No. That would be crazy.

#leverage #leverage ot3 #Sophie this took me way too long to respond to #I'm so sorry #the next morning Eliot expects Parker and Hardison to try and get their cereal and soda #now that they've stopped playing #but when they ask for pancakes and Eliot's homemade vegan ice-cream instead #Eliot knows #he's been played #talk leverage to me #sophoklesworld

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tracing-lines-in-the-infinite · 4 years

Text

The Old Guard x Leverage Crossover Ideas

This is just me trying to inspire someone else enough to write something because this is the most I’ve written in months and can’t see myself adding to.

Inspired by this post

Eliot dies first, obviously, and he dies protecting Parker and Hardison.

It was an explosion and he covered the two of them with his body.

Parker is crying and trying to help Hardison carry him out but the police are already outside and they can’t get him out through the vents. So unfortunately they have to leave him, not noticing that his burns were healing.

So they’re back at their apartment, crying together, when Eliot walks in annoyed that they left him passed out. (He had to beat up some cops just to be allowed to leave)

He’s not even that injured he says with absolutely no visible injury in sight

Parker is convinced he’s a ghost for at least a week

they’re still not sure if she believes he’s real or not.

Cue TOG crew trying to find him but as stated in the linked post above their constantly changing activities and locations it’s incredibly difficult.

But then Hardison has some mundane death- in their line of work it could be something like a jump gone wrong like on a date.

He's dead for a moment and then comes back and Parker can’t handle the emotions of it happening again and runs off to somewhere else for a while.

They let her go because honestly they’re freaked out as well and know she needs her space. After a week or so she returns to their apartment and it’s business as usual.

Now TOG crew is getting flashes from two people, still changing identities and they're still not sure who or where they are but they always see both of those people and some crazy blonde doing death-defying stunts in almost every dream.

So now they are wondering if there's a second group of immortals that they're just becoming aware of now?

Maybe all three of them given how much the third person seems to love tempting fate/death?

But they're still no closer to finding them. The closest they'll get is finding an old ad for a baseball player or lawyer that somehow no longer exists.

Once Nile swears she saw them on the news, but when they check it out later they can't find any evidence online.

But then the Leverage offices are attacked, they're not sure why (until Hardison gets access to a computer of course)

Cue Hardison and Eliot being pretty sure they're immortal or something at this point so they're going back and forth trying to protect the other and Parker.

But suddenly Parker is not behind them anymore and the shooting has stopped.

Parker’s still up and walking around, but with bullet holes closing up including one on her neck. She’s coughing up bullets as her loves watch with horror that quickly turns to relief and happiness.

Old Guard group gets flashes of Parker's death and they finally think they have a lead- I mean, some guys shot up a building in broad daylight we should be able to find something

But when they arrive all they find is an angry Agent James Sterling, who agrees to help them find the three

(one of the trio's cases interfered with an investigation and they wiped all his data- he needs it back thank you very much).

They don't know how Sterling knows the trio and they don't ask.

But then Nate and Sophie show up and make fun of him but eventually arrange a meeting between the three parties.

After the two groups leave together, Nate, Sophie, and James go out for a drink because immortality is taking everything they’ve dealt with just a step too far.

Imagine Nate’s story to Agent Casey in the finale was true- or at least in part. Like all three of them die for the first time in the van/ in the river and he thought they died and then they get the bodies and it’s not them and Nate just kind of goes along with it- trusting his team- until they get back to the brew pub. He’ll 100% take credit for the plan and holds his questions until they’re back in front of him again (that’s why he and Sophie can finally leave).

#leverage #leverage ot3 #the old guard #leverage x the old guard crossover #I have watched both and the most I can do is ideas #take them please #I also just wanted to include the whole leverage family #hence Nate and Sophie being thrown in there- and Sterling

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mrs-nate-humphrey · 3 years

Note

ok so we have seen over and over again people's assumptions about how gg main characters's instagrams would look like but how do you think their secret tumblr blogs would be? 👀

hmm! i just went over tumblr in general, because i don’t think all of them would have ‘secret’ tumblrs per say? everyone’s thing under the cut, cause it got SO long. i did not mention chuck because i don’t rlly see chuck as having a tumblr in any universe tbh - i feel like he would think it takes away from his businessy vibe or something.

dan's main would be something with a ts eliot url, like, a snippet from one of his poems, or it would be a whitman url, a snippet from a poem again (i see him with a whitman url of some kind & maybe his blog title is an eliot reference.) dan would 100% have the whole dark academia thing going in some ways, i think his blog would be organised as a grid, and he would reblog pictures of libraries, museums, occasionally of art, and also, quotes. so many quotes. so much literature. if you've been on tumblr long enough you know exactly the kind of blog i'm talking about.

dan's tumblr sideblog, on the contrary, would have nothing to link it to him. it'd probably be the tumblr default theme, pastel colours or something... i feel like dan is the specific genre of trans kid who uses a different set of pronouns online for anonymity purposes and then goes "wait a minute i like these pronouns BETTER". his url would be something extremely mundane and random like coffeeaddict779 or something, and it would be all #vent and #dont reblog. nobody who's following his sideblog knows what his main is, and vice versa.

serena would i think have one of those "be kind, do no harm :)" kind of hipster tumblr blogs, except she's incredibly sincere. she wouldn't have a sideblog, i don't think? and i don't think she'd attach her name to it in any way, probably just pronouns in bio and maybe a 'call me S'. she and dan would be mutuals on dan's main! her blog will be very, uh. aesthetic pictures, reblogs of dolphin videos and music and WIP art videos and anything else that'll catch her eye. she'll tag blair in fashion vids, nate in sailing posts, dan in literary stuff, and vanessa in film related/photography related things. she's having fun! every now and then she'll post a vent post but it's extremely vague and it's either something everyone who knows her irl already knows about her ('i hate my mom so much') or something that says practically nothing ('i am so worried about my brother and wish i could do more to help him.')

jenny's fashion inspo blog!!!! what more do you want me to say. she'd make it big in the fashion community and get anons all the time and she'd probably also have an etsy where she sells things she's sewn and made. everyone sort of knows she's an up and coming designer and she'd find a good community online hopefully!!! her blog would be something simple, with a url like jennydesigns or something (i bet that's taken rn, i havent checked) and her theme would be one of those themes that allows for u to have big images. she would probably post vents in the same way serena does, tag them #personal or #rambles, and have that neat code that allows for the tag to be filtered out whenever anyone views her page on desktop, you know?

i think eric would not have anything specific that he posts. he would just reblog random things - memes, things he finds interesting, jenny's original posts, stuff serena tags him in, cat videos, lgbtq+ positivity, etc. he'd try and stay out of drama (i think he'd turn anon off eventually.) he’d also post a lot of music reblogs or links, i feel?

vanessa's main blog would be one where she posts her own photos and films. because she's professional about it, it'd probably just be @ vanessaabrams. she'd have a sideblog specifically for reblogging other people’s work because she wants to support other artists, and it would be vanessareblogs or something like that, and her bio would mention “main tumblr @ vanessaabrams”. she’d be much adored in the photo/film community and just in general, because she’s one of the few people who hypes up other creators all the time and leaves nice comments in tags and all that. every now and then serena reblogs vanessa’s photography onto her blog and it almost always blows up, but vanessa doesn’t mind. i don’t think vanessa would have a vent blog or even a personal tag, she gives me big ‘i wanna keep my business totally off the net’ kind of vibes.

nate’s blog would be a lot like serena’s except, uh, more openly wanderlusty i think. a LOT of ocean reblogs. every now and then he reblogs keroauc quotes from dan which the girls find extremely hilarious. he talks a lot about sailing and gets a lot of sailing anons. he’d reblog a lot of positivity (mostly because he knows his friends are following him and he wants to brighten up their dash.) dan and vanessa jokingly dm him weed aesthetic posts all the time, but every time they do he reblogs and tags it ‘sent to me’ or somehting like that, and they cant decide whether to be flattered or embarrased. i think nate would also attract a lot of anons who ask for advice and it is something he never expected people coming to him for, but he definitely listens and shares whatever he’s got to say all the same. he’s this blog who should be weirdly niche but everyone sort of knows him and likes him.

saving the best for the last, lol. i have SO many thoughts about blair’s tumblrs.

i think she’d have a main tumblr that’s solely for classic film stuff (audrey! and more) and that’d be @ blairwaldorf, because, well, duh. i think she’d pay for a tumblr theme and get one of those really fancy and cute ones, like a floralcodes ms paint theme. i think she’d also have a sideblog that’s less serious, where she’d reblog things from tv shows, reblog things serena or nate have tagged her in, write her own meta for fandoms she’s in, just generally be a multifandom mess with a #personal tag but nothing too personal. it would still be classy, because she’s blair, but on this blog, she’s just a girl having fun.

and then she’d have a THIRD blog, a sideblog that doubles up as a vent blog. and this one isn’t linked to her other two in an obvious way, nobody knows it’s her, etc. on here she’d probably post a lot about her ed (but i think in a ‘i am struggling and i want to bitch’ way, not in a thinspo way - that’s a whole conversation i have no spoons for, so let’s not go there), she’d post about her insecurities and worries but it would be extremely untraceable. she’d have a fancy theme on this one too, despite it being a vent blog.

hm. now im thinking of the potential of like. dan and blair interacting super frequently on their vent blogs and neither of them knowing it’s the other person!

#meta #this was fun! thanks for the ask #i was initally gonna edit graphics #who knows i still may #but i realised that would take WAYYY too long #so have my words instead #anon #tumblr au #so i can find later if i need it

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leverage-ot3 · 4 years

Text

notable moments from The 12 Step Job

leverage 1.10

Hardison (brings up map on monitors): That look like a pattern to you?

Parker: It's like Billy from "The Family Circus," If Billy was a drunken sex fiend.

eliot straight up looked at her like ?????

- - - - -

Nate: Actually, it does. He's an addict, under stress. So he's not gonna be doing a lot of exploring. He's gonna stay well within his comfort zone. He's still in LA. Oh, yeah. All right, we're gonna do this old-school. Ah, Parker, you break into his condo, see what you can find. Sophie and I will hit the retail spots. You guys go to his favorite haunts. But don't spook him, just follow him. Let him lead us to the money.

Hardison: All right?

Eliot (to Hardison): Strip Joint.

Hardison: Mmm. (to Nate) You know, I'm - I'm gonna need change for $100... in singles.

Nate: I'm sorry. What? Y-you think I have 100 singles on me?

(Eliot and Hardison walk out)

they looked at each other giddily that the con was going to take them to a strip joint and immediately asked their dad nate for money

they’re children, your honor

- - - - -

Hardison: This dude, you see him trying to force his keys onto that girl?

Eliot: Yeah. It should be the other way around, huh?

(Hurley gets into the car and starts it)

Eliot: Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot. You don't know nothing about that.

Hardison: Really? I almost had it in me to wash this car. Almost.

Eliot: Ten bucks says you're washing the car.

Hardison: I know it ain’t

Eliot: I guaran- (he is cut off when a car pulls up behind Hurley as he’s backing up, and he hits it. Men get out of the car and run around to where Hurley is getting out of his car)

CHILDREN

also as soon as hardison spilled that slushie he was Dead™

(also when did they stop to get slushies ??? like did hardison beg eliot to stop at some place to get one ??? did eliot begrudgingly to it, complaining all the way but secretly not actually minding it that much ???)

- - - - -

eliot and hardison fighting goons in the parking lot ? two words: 🥰 crime boyfriends 🥰

- - - - -

Hardison: I got a gun. I got a gun.

Man: All right, man, hey, hey.

(the men back away. Hardison points the gun and shoots. The bullet goes into the engine of the men’s car, disabling it. Eliot pulls Hardison toward their car)

Eliot: Nice job blowing out the engine block.

Hardison: I was aiming for his leg.

(Eliot grabs the gun)

Eliot: Yeah give me the gun, Hardison

hardison can’t shoot for shit and it’s hilarious

- - - - -

Parker: Hi. My name is Rose. I'm a kleptomaniac. My parents are rich, but I shoplift anyway... (looks at notes on her wrist) because I hate myself.

HER NOTES ON HER WRIST LMFAO

- - - - -

making parker take the drugs without explaining the process or making her sign anything etc is unethical

- - - - -

Hardison: It-It's, uh, a computer bomb. I-I-I know computers. Computer bomb, um. We-we-we got to reboot the system. Yeah.

Eliot (stands up): You want me to kick it?

Hardison: God, I’m gonna die. No, just, look. (reaches under dash)

Eliot: Wh-wh-wh-whoa.

Hardison: J-just, no. Duck up under the hood and just tell me how it's attached to the electrical system. (pops hood)

I’ve seen meta for this scene where eliot actually obviously knows not to kick it, he’s just saying that to jumpstart hardison’s brain since he’s freaking the fuck out. and I believe that wholeheartedly.

- - - - -

Eliot: What's our margin for error here?

Hardison: About half a second.

Eliot: Run the bag of bricks by me again.

Hardison: You ready?

Eliot: No.

Hardison: Are you ready?

(Eliot reaches under the hood with a shaking hand and grabs the wires)

Eliot: Yeah

ELIOT! COULD! HAVE! JUST! LEFT!

they were a newly formed team and if worst came to worst, he could have just gotten himself to safety and have that be it. except he would NEVER do that. he’d never leave any of his team behind (especially hardison). in this scene and the one before it his hands were SHAKING because he was so scared for hardison and that hardison wouldn’t make it. eliot is the retrieval specialist and he’s the one that is supposed to get everyone home safe. he needed hardison to be safe.

- - - - -

Receptionists: Can I help you?

Eliot: You sure can. Here to see a patient of yours, Mr. Tom Baker.

Receptionists: What's your relationship?

Eliot: Why?

Receptionists: Second Act has a strict policy. Only family members can see patients. We want to make sure outside influences don't hamper our clients' recoveries.

Eliot: I think that's an excellent policy. I'm Tom's brother. Hi. Mark.

(Eliot kisses the receptionists hand. She looks at Hardison)

Hardison: I'm-I'm with him.

Receptionists: So, you're a friend of…

Hardison: No, no, I am—

(Hardison puts his arm through Eliot’s. Eliot stiffens)

Hardison: I am with him. See, he thinks the flirting makes me jealous, but it doesn't. You know, but if you was, like, Brad Pitt or Denzel or somebody, oh, girl, it would be on, seriously. (rings the bell) Bring your ass. Bring your ass. (pulls Eliot away from the desk)

ot3 foreshadowing in season one- we love to see it

(also what a fucking nerd, hardison, tom baker? you live to base aliases off of doctor who)

- - - - -

Parker: I thought my foster parents just wanted me so they could get money from the state, but now I realize they didn't love each other. They just wanted someone to love them.

Hurley: Like they need you to fill in the gaps for their relationship.

Parker: Exactly. But when that didn't happen, they just withdrew

Hurley: Yeah.

Parker: Which led me to steal.

Hurley: Yeah.

Parker: It's all so clear to me now

I’m not sure how much of this was true from her origin story but I’m keeping it as meta just in case

- - - - -

Hardison: He's not all bad. He did give some of the money to people in need.

Eliot: You ever notice how all bad guys know at least one stripper?

Sophie (answering phone): Hello?

Hardison: And you know at least a hundred, so what does that say about you?

Eliot: Hey, I’m a bad guy

stfu eliot you know you’re not a bad guy anymore

- - - - -

parker walking around all happy

- - - - -

Parker: Okay, Parker, get into the air vent, out to the front gate.

Parker: No.

Nate: No?

Parker: No, I feel like I’m making real progress here.

Nate (puts his hands on her shoulders): Listen, I need you to focus, okay?

(Parker smiles and looks down at Nate’s arms)

Nate: What?

Parker: You don't usually touch me, or any of us, really. It's the hole in your heart, Tom. It doesn't allow you to get close to people.

Hurley: She's right

parker got so insightful in this episode. like it was because of the drugs but it gave an interesting look into her mind and into her past

- - - - -

Hurley: Dr. Tanner?

Sophie: Hurley, jump on. Let's go. Now!

(Sophie is pulled away, but another creeper comes out from beneath the car. Hurley gets out of the car. Eliot is pulling on the rope from behind another car. Hurley is pulled away to safety. Eliot covers Sophie)

Eliot: Keep your head down. Keep your head down.

eliot covered sophie with his body and we love to see eliot protecting his family with whatever he’s got

- - - - -

Eliot: Ooh.

Hurley: Steel-Belted radials.

(Eliot pulls a knife and cuts open the tire, revealing the inside full of money)

Eliot: Ohhh.

Hurley: What do you think?

(Eliot hands Hardison a handful of money)

Sophie: I think you might have a knack for this.

that was actually really smart ??? tagging this as something useful for a fic maybe ???

- - - - -

Nate: Just-just take the win. Take the win. (grabs an envelope from Hardison and hands it to Hurley) Here you go.

Hurley: What's this?

Nate: That's your new identity. It's a driver's license, a passport, birth certificate.

Hardison: Your library card, Netflix membership, Sam’s club. Oh, I got you three months free at 24-Hour fitness. Maybe work off some of those tacos.

Hurley: You guys didn't have to do all this.

Nate: Yeah, well, actually, uh, we did. Uh, Jack Hurley is dead. We killed him. So this is your chance to kind of start over.

Hurley: Wow. Hey, d-do you think Michelle will forgive me when she gets the payout from my life-insurance policy?

Nate: Yeah, why don't we just, uh, go with the win? (escorts him toward the door) We're giving you a second chance, so don't screw it up. If you do, I promise we'll know. (hands Hurley tickets) Train ticket.

Hurley: Don't worry about me.

Nate: Yeah.

Hurley: I'm playing it straight from now on. In fact, as soon as I get to, uh... (looks at ticket) Rosarito, I’m gonna find the nearest support group. I promise. Thanks for everything, Tom. (shakes hand)

when the team has someone “die”, they take CARE of them

- - - - -

Dr. Frank: You're sure this is for the best?

Sophie: Absolutely. Second Act isn't the right place for her.

(Parker smells marker. Sam comes and takes it away from her)

Sophie: No, she needs to be around people who better understand the issues she's struggling with. People more like her.

parker sniffing a marker and smiling snjdnssjsj

also SHE NEEDS HER FAMILY. HER FAMILY UNDERSTANDS HER.

- - - - -

(Parker walks out of the building, laughing)

Parker: Hi. (runs up to the group, who are waiting for her) Hey! I missed you guys!

(Parker throws her bag at Nate and jumps into Eliot’s arms)

Eliot: Oh! (to Sophie) When do the happy pills wear off?

Nate: Usually about 24 hours.

Parker (hugging Hardison): I missed you.

Hardison: That's too bad. I kind of like this Parker.

(Parker puts an arm around both Eliot and Hardison and they start walking away)

Nate: Uh, Eliot?

(Nate throws Parker’s bag, Eliot catches it)

OT3 OT3 OT3

also PLEASE give me a fic of them watching over her while she comes down from the meds just in case she needs anything. fuck, I might have to write this if no one else does.

- - - - -

eliot and hardison having a mini argument in the background getting parker in the car

#leverage 1.10 #leverage 1x10 #the 12 step job #the twelve step job #leverage season 1 #season 1 #notable moments #mine #im going to stop tagging these posts as meta because it clogs up the character meta and leverage meta tags #so just assume all the notable moments posts have meta in them #leverage

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siriuslysnuffles · 7 years

Text

The Mistletoe Mishap

can also be read here on ff! sorry it’s late!

The Mistletoe Mishap is defined, according to one James Fleamont Potter, as the period between December fourth and December thirteenth when one Lily Evans would unexpectedly change his life forever. It is also defined as the moment three friends decided to meddle with the love lives of their romantically incompetent mates.

(December 4, 1977)

‘Are you sure we should be doing this?’ the mousy-haired boy asked the tallest of his three companions.

‘Should we? No. Are we still going to do it?’ Sirius Black let a small smirk cross his face. ‘Yes.’

‘Maybe Wormtail’s right, Padfoot,’ the third friend said skeptically. ‘James and Lily are bound to figure it out themselves.’

‘Prongs is clueless that Evans fancies him, and Evans believes that James only wants to be mates.’ He laughed, ‘If I have to drop one more hint to James that the bird is mad for him, I will die.’ He let out a dramatic sigh, ‘Lily’s just being friendly, Padfoot. We’re just friends.’

He scoffed. ‘Just friends don't snuggle.’

Remus let out a chuckle, ‘You let Lily fall asleep on you with her head in your lap plenty of times.’

The ebony-haired boy once more sighed, ‘It's all about the sexual tension, Moony. Evans and I are mates, she's practically a sister to me.’ He eyed the corridor awaiting the couple who were meant to be patrolling. He once more turned to his two confidants, ‘James and Lily are basically sexual tension on wheels.’

‘They're coming,’ Peter whispered as he eyed the dots on the Marauder’s Map.

Sirius’ face turned, ironically, serious as he quickly uttered the needed spells on the mistletoe.

‘Are you sure there's no one else around, Wormtail?’ Sirius questioned him. ‘The spell is only good for one pair.’

‘I’m sure.’

‘How’d you get away from Filch then?’ Lily asked him as James recounted yet another legendary story of Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs.

‘You’ll never believe it.’

His smirk caused a fluttering feeling to emerge in her stomach which she quickly pushed back. He was one of her best friends after all.

‘Oh, really?’ She said, pushing a strand of red hair behind her ear. ‘Try me.’

He came closer to her, his lips only centimeters away from her ear. ‘Magic,’ he murmured softly.

She felt her heart rate speed up at the lack of distance separating them. She tried to control her blush as he pulled away. ‘You’re a toerag,’ she mumbled embarrassed.

‘Come on, Evans,’ he laughed. ‘You know, I’m hilarious.’

‘Hilarious my arse.’

James shook his head affectionately at her, ‘Let’s go, love.’

As they passed a doorway, they felt themselves unable to move outside of the area. It was as if they were placed in their own annoying bubble.

‘What in Merlin’s beard?’ James questioned as he tried to use a counterspell.

‘Mistletoe.’ Lily’s voice came out softly as she looked up at the green plant.

‘Oh,’ was James’ brilliant response.

‘Someone must have cast a spell on it.’ Her face was extremely pale, exhibiting her anxiety.

‘Err, what do we do?’ His hand went to ruffle his messy hair as he usually did when he was nervous–or around Lily Evans.

She giggled nervously, ‘I don’t think we have much of a choice, do we?’

‘Right.’ His tone was hard to interpret. His eyes temporarily avoiding hers. ‘How do we do this?’

‘Asking me for advice, Potter?’ she teased him, slightly easing their nervousness. ‘And here I thought you’d be a good snog.’

‘Hmm… I alway knew you wanted to snog me, Evans.’ His lips were closer to hers, his breath teasing her lips.

‘Who wouldn’t with that shaggable hair?’ He laughed, placing a shaking hand on each side of her face.

She closed her eyes in anticipation and felt a soft pair of lips meet hers. Her fingers grasping onto said shaggable locks. His hands twisting into her wavy hair as his lips bruised hers, his tongue prying her lips apart. Merlin help her, nothing had ever felt as right as kissing James Potter.

(December 6, 1977)

‘He’s avoiding me.’ Lily feel into the seat next to April, feeling utterly dejected.

‘He’s not avoiding you,’ her friend reassured her.

‘Oh, really?’ Lily’s tone was more than skeptical as she stared at the other end of the Gryffindor table where a group of rowdy boys sat. ‘James hasn’t said more than four words to me since patrols on Sunday night.’ She threw a glare at the back of the boy’s stupid head. ‘And here I thought maybe there was a chance of us working out, but he probably sees me as a sister now. He probably finds it disgusting that we kissed and wants nothing to do with me.’

‘Lily,’ April sighed. ‘James isn't an idiot, and I severely doubt that he sees you as a sister. Who knows what goes on in that boy’s head. He’s probably too dense to even realise you fancy him.’

She scoffed. ‘How can he not, I’m pretty sure the bloody giant squid knows I fancy James at this point, and, may I remind you, the giant squid is underwater.’

April giggled, ‘You did say you’d rather date the squid than Potter. Maybe you should snog it and make him jealous.’

‘Very funny, April.’

‘I know, it’s one of my many talents.’

Lily threw a piece of bacon at her.

April laughed as she took a bite of the bacon. ‘And here I thought we were friends.’

(December 8, 1977)

‘SIRIUS ORION BLACK, COME BACK HERE BEFORE I HEX YOU!’

‘NOT NOW, LOVE, I’M BUSY!’

The boisterous response to the redhead only seemed to anger her more as she began chasing him around the common room, much to the amusement of their audience.

‘I swear to Merlin, Black, I will touch you in a place no girl ever has before and never will if you don't quit it!’

‘I appreciate the offer, Flower!’

James watched from the corner of the room where he sat with Remus and Peter.

‘What do you think she wants with him?’ he asked as he messed up his hair with his fingers.

‘To castrate him?’ Peter responded, his eyes travelling to look at the redhead dragging the notorious Sirius Black away by the ear. ‘Perhaps murder him?’

Remus bit back a smile. ‘Not surprising. I think we've all had that temptation.’

‘I'm serious.’ James sighed frustrated.

James saw as their lips twitched. ‘Oh, bloody hell,’ he said before burying his head in his hands.

‘In all seriousness, Prongs, Lily talking to Sirius isn't the end of the world.’ Remus placed a comforting arm on James’ shoulder.

‘Unless you did something stupid,’ Peter teased.

‘Well…’ James murmured self-consciously.

It was Remus’ turn to bury his head in his hands.

‘What is it, Evans?’ Sirius’ voice was more than a bit annoyed at having been dragged away in such a manner.

‘Is James avoiding me?’

Sirius raised an eyebrow at her. ‘Why would he be avoiding you?’

‘Because,’ she let a hand slide through her curly hair–a habit she seemed to pick up from a certain ebony-haired boy. ‘We kissed.’

‘Then shouldn’t you two be snogging in a cupboard now instead of you assaulting me?’ He rubbed at his ear at the reminder.

‘One should think so, but no. Your best mate is a prat who apparently runs away from girls after he snogs them instead of just telling them he only sees them as a mate. Not only that, but he also has the audacity to avoid them and switch his patrol schedule “because of Quidditch.” Really your bloody friend is a bloody arse, and that leaves me to only vent to April and you, and April isn't being very helpful besides her suggestion to push him against a wall and snog him again.’

She took a deep breath.

‘Are you done ranting?’ The boy asked her.

Lily pouted, but still nodded her head just enough for Sirius.

‘Eliot has the right idea, Lily Flower, but did he actually run away from you?’ He asked the last part in disbelief.

‘He pulled away, looked at me as if I murdered his cat, then said, “Sorry, Evans.” Almost ran into a wall as well, the dork that he is.’

Sirius threw his head back. ‘I'm sorry, Evans, but you knew what you were getting into when you decided to befriend him.’

‘I didn't realise befriending the git meant I would fancy him.’ Her eyes were green and red as she looked up into the boy’s grey eyes.

‘Bloody hell,’ he mumbled. ‘Come here.’

He wrapped his arms around her, a side of him only few people outside of Lily Evans were ever allowed to see. He let her wrap her arms around his waist.

‘It's all right, love. He’ll realise he's being an idiot.’

‘So a little bird told me you ran after you snogged Evans.’ Sirius laughed as he sat down on James’ bed.

‘I did not run,’ he mumbled as he made to catch the snitch for the hundredth time.

‘Really?’ Sirius raised his eyebrow at his best friend in disbelief.

James pouted and stayed silent.

‘James?’ Sirius’ tone left little room for argument.

‘Okay, I might have run off—more of a jog, really.’ He whispered the last part.

Sirius let out a chuckle. ‘You're being an idiot, Prongs. Lily’s upset you're avoiding her.’

James’ eyes softened for a moment, guilt evident in them. ‘I'm not avoiding her,’ he denied as he stood up from the bed.

‘Let's skip the part where you try to lie to me, despite both of us knowing the truth.’ Sirius let out an exasperated sigh. ‘Just tell me, why are you avoiding her? I doubt it was her snogging skills.’

‘No,’ a small grin appeared on his face. ‘The kiss was rather nice—more than nice.’

‘What's wrong then?’ His grey eyes trailed over to the messy-haired boy. Sirius saw how James’ face flushed, his eyes staring at the snitch in his hands.

‘She's one of my best mates, Sirius.’ His eyes looked up to meet Sirius’ own, begging him to understand. ‘I can't lose her, not for a relationship that might not work out.’

‘But what if it does work out? What if you're just too scared to find out?’ He scoffed and got up from the bed. ‘Believe me, Prongsie, you'll lose her if you keep avoiding her and keep switching your patrols because you're too scared to face her.’ Sirius mussed up James’ hair. ‘Think about it.’

And with that, he was out the dorm.

(December 10, 1977)

‘Has he talked to her yet?’ Peter asked as they sat down for breakfast at the Gryffindor table sans James.

‘Not yet, Wormtail.’ Sirius took a deep breath, ‘He's being an idiot, but we all have to support our idiot brother.’

‘How much longer is James going to keep this up? We all know he adores Lily, and Lily adores him.’ Remus gave them both a look, ‘She's not going to wait forever.’

‘Isn't that what he's afraid of?’ Peter mumbled between bites of bacon.

‘Partially, but it is Lily Evans.’ Sirius let a genuine smile grace his face at the thought of his redheaded companion. ‘She is a rather special girl, isn't she?’

(December 12, 1977)

James’ eyes followed her from across the Great Hall as he saw her chatting at the Ravenclaw table with Lucas Blake.

He sighed, moving his food around with his fork.

‘What's wrong, Prongs?’ Remus asked as he watched James’ quiet demeanour.

‘Since when do Lily and Lucas Blake talk?’ His voice came out quietly.

‘Since they've been patrolling together because someone refuses to patrol with her.’ Remus gave him a pointed look. ‘You can't honestly be jealous, Prongs? You're avoiding her, and Lily isn't interested in Luke.’

‘She could be,’ he muttered bitterly. ‘And Lily’s smart, kind, funny, rather beautiful.’ He sighed, ‘She’s also available.’ He cast a longing look at the redhead. ‘Lucas would be crazy not to want to date her, if she is interested.’

‘We’re all aware that Lily is quite a catch, mate.’ Sirius said, cutting off his chat with Peter. ‘Have you considered what we talked about the other day?’

‘Yes.’ His eyes avoided theirs. His food seemed quite appealing as he stuffed it into his mouth to prolong the inevitable.

‘And?’ Sirius pressed.

‘I'll talk to her. I just need time.’

Unfortunately for James, he did not have more time.

As he continued his patrol with Remus, they heard a sudden disturbance coming from the end of the corridor.

‘It better not be another Slytherin,’ he grumbled.

Remus chuckled, ‘It’s not always a Slytherin, James.’

‘Well, I also don't fancy catching another snogging couple,’ he uttered as they sped up.

At the end of the corridor, there was neither a Slytherin nor a pair of hormone-ridden teenagers.

‘Lily,’ James sighed out the redhead’s name. Even while looking like the embodiment of fire—and despite knowing what would happen if he dared to play with the burning sensation—he couldn't help but find her as gorgeous as ever.

‘Remus,’ she said softly, contradicting her sore demeanour. ‘Would you mind giving us a moment?’

‘I, err, don't think that's a good idea.’ Remus responded seeing James’ deer caught in the headlight expression.

‘Remus, I'm not really giving you an option here.’ She shrugged. ‘It's more of a formality.’

James’ face paled at the thought of being left alone with the mad redhead. He looked at Remus for help but saw the traitorous bastard abandoning him.

‘Err, this is really not the time, Lily.’ He grasped his hair with his fingers, already nervous at what she had to say—or do, he really would prefer to keep all pieces of his anatomy as they are.

‘I'm tired of you avoiding me, James Fleamont Potter.’ She sounded strangely like his mother did whenever he misbehaved as a child. Part of him was tempted to begin pouting as he had then, but he figured the outcome wouldn't be nearly as pleasant.

‘No,’ he denied. ‘I've been occupied.’ He stated it rather poorly.

And she did the last thing he would have expected at that point.

She kissed him.

(December 13, 1977)

Her mouth was hot on his, brushing her tongue against it and begging for entrance. He permitted it as he let out a soft moan at the feeling of her against him. The tips of her fingers scraping against his scalp and trailing down to his neck.

His mind went blank at the feeling. The butterflies in his stomach multiplying the longer she touched him, the longer he touched her. He wanted nothing more but to worship her. His conscious, however, was a sadistic bastard.

He pulled away from her.

‘Lily—’ he began, only to have what would have been a very well-intended speech cut off by the witch.

‘I'm giving you a choice, Potter.’ She stated boldly as tears formed in her remarkable green eyes. ‘Either tell me you feel nothing for me but friendship, and we’ll pretend that both kisses never occurred.’ She looked down, her pale skin beginning to flush. ‘Or,’ she took a deep breath. ‘You can tell me that we both feel more than friendship and progress from there.’

She looked into his eyes. He could practically feel the emotions radiating from her body. ‘But I refuse to be stuck in this unknown limbo, James Potter. I deserve better than that.’

‘I—’ he paused, not being able to comprehend what she had just said. ‘You fancy me?’ His heart was racing as he awaited her response.

‘Of course, I do.’ With those words, the fate of the wizarding world would be forever sealed because the next thing James Potter did was anything but idiotic.

He kissed her.

The Mistletoe Mishap is defined by Lily Evans as the period between December fourth and December thirteenth in which James Potter was an idiotic arse who refused to admit his feelings. Synonyms include: Just Snog Him Against a Wall.

thank you to @snowflakejilys (usually @teddylupen) for the feedback and proofreading!

#jily oneshot #siriuslywriting #event: christmas #canon compliant #oneshot #canon compliant oneshot #friends: blackevans #friends: marauders #friends: prongsfoot #couple: jily #friends: jily #friends to lovers: jily #insecure!lily #insecure!james #headgirl!lily #headboy!james #tw: cursing

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