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thegeeksideofsr · 5 months ago

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Over Heated

An: just a lil silly fic, not proof read

***********************************************

Florida. The job has to be in Florida during the hottest month of the year. The kind of heat that makes you irritable and constantly sweaty.

Best way to survive at this point is shorts tank tops and an AC unit on high enough to make a room a freezer.

The job was a relatively quick and easy. But now we have to wait for our flight tomorrow, at two in the afternoon.

The team is currently occupying a table in a pub. Good food, cold drinks, and music that doesn't make me want to kill someone.

The thought of cool shower and the bed awaiting me is helping with the homicidal urge. And food helps too, I suppose.

The only downside to the hotel is that I have to share with Eliot. Not that he's a bad roomie, he's actually excellent. Neat and thoughtful, especially because someone thought it would be funny to put us in a single bed room, and that someone knows that I like Eliot a little bit, and now we have to share a bed, the others all got rooms with double beds. And Eliot and I were the only co-ed.

I'm gonna kill Hardison. Slowly. Maybe I can make it look like an accident.

"So, you're tellin' me, you got scurvy?"

Eliot's low voice pulls me from my day dream.

"I almost got scurvy," Hardison explains. "Nanna caught it before it got bad and made me drink like a gallon of orange juice a day. Was not fun. You know what happens when you consume that much fruit? It's not pretty. I'm tellin' you it was like a -"

"Ew Hardison!" I exclaim, throwing a crumpled napkin at him. "TMI, dude. TMI."

"Damnit, Hardison."

"What's scurvy?" Parker asks, mouth full of food.

"It's when you're body doesn't have all the nutrients it needs, specifically vitamin c. You get it from fruits and vegetables, and if you don't get enough of it you get real sick," Eliot explains.

"It's why El and I try to feed them to you and Hardison and much as we can," I add.

"It's not anything to worry about really," Hardison says with a smirk, while waving a french fry around. "It's not a thing. Parents made it up to make kids eat their vegetables."

"Oh, interesting." Parker shrugs and continues to eat.

"No, Park-" Eliot starts, running a hand down his face to rest over his eyes. "Damnit Hardison."

I shake my head, then turn to Nate and Sophie to see if they want to be any help, but they are completely oblivious, having their own conversation. Giving each other bedroom eyes and thinking they are being subtle.

I roll my eyes and sigh.

I look down to my plate. My food is already gone and my drink only has a swallow left.

I grab my cup, down the last of the liquid, then push away from the table.

"Alright. I don't have the patients for this. Hardison, good luck trying to undo this one."

I turn and walk away, when Hardison yells after me.

"Hey! What about your bill?"

"You get to cover it for telling Parker that scurvy isn't real."

I flip him off over my shoulder as I open the door and leave.

The restaurant is only a few minutes walk from the hotel, so I don't have to be out in the heat long, thank goodness.

I walk through the front lobby, waving to the young woman, Gemma, behind the desk, then to the elevator up to my room.

The building is cool enough, AC on throughout, but once I unlock my door , heat floods out.

Damnit. One of us must have forgotten to turn the AC on before we left.

I enter the room, like walking into an oven, across the room to the AC unit.

Opon inspection, I find that no matter the buttons I push, nothing comes from it.

Shit.

I go to the phone on the side table and call down to the front desk, the call answering after a couple rings.

"Front desk, how can I help?"

"Hi, Gemma, I'm in room 302, and the AC unit is not working and it's an oven in here. Is there any body who could take a look at it?"

"Oh, shit. I will call maintenance to check it out, and have a couple fans sent up in the mean time. I'm sorry for it going out."

"That's alright. It not your fault. Thank you for your help."

"Of course. Maintenance should be there in a few minutes."

"Alright, thanks."

I hang up and flop back on the bed.

The air stale and unmoving.

I get up to open the window, standing next to it and enjoying the air. It may be hot outside, but the air moves.

A knock arrives on the door after a few minutes.

I go to the door and open it to reveal an older gentleman with a tool box in hand.

"I hear you are having some AC problems," he says.

"That I am. Please come in." I gesture for him to come in. "Thank you for coming. I hope you can fix it."

"I'll do my best," he says as he begins to examines the unit.

I sit on the bed and watch him take of the front of the unit, exposing the inner workings.

He tinkers and grumbles for a few minutes, before standing and turning to me.

"No good." He says, shaking his head. "One of the lines is broken and we don't have the parts on hand. It's out of commission until I can order the parts."

My heart sinks.

"Are you sure?"

He nods.

"Alright," I sigh. "Thank you for trying."

"You're welcome. Why don't we go ask Gemma if there is a empty room for you."

I nod, then get up and grab my room key and wallet. Then follow him out and head to the lobby.

Once there, he explains to Gemma about the unit, and asks if she could find another room for me, then head of towards the back.

I step up to the front desk, resting my arms on top, as she begins to type.

"Is there anything available?" I ask.

She gives me a sympathetic look, shaking her head.

"I'm sorry," she says. "Everything is full. The earliest I could get a room is tomorrow afternoon."

"We leave tomorrow."

I close my eyes, and run my hand over my face.

"It's ok. You said you had some fans?"

She nods.

"We do. I will have them sent up. They aren't as good as an AC, but it'll keep the air moving."

"Thank you, Gemma."

As I turn to head back up to my room, I see Eliot come in the entrance.

"Hey," he greats. "What going on?"

"I'll explain on the way up." I tell him, then walk towards the elevator.

Heim following behind.

Once in the elevator, I explain what happened.

"Great." He groans as he tosses his head back.

Once we get back to our room, the fans have already been dropped off, so we place them around the room to try to cool it down.

"Alright," I sigh, digging through my suitcase for clothes. "I'm going to shower."

"Why? Just gonna get hot again." His tone dripping in annoyance.

"Yes, but I'll be clean and hot." I snip back.

I grab my clothes and slam the bathroom door behind me.

The water is cool and refreshing. It takes away some of the frustration I had towards Eliot, but I'm still annoyed at him.

Once I'm done I put my pjs on, shorts and a tank, hopefully I'll be cool enough overnight.

I exit the bathroom to find Eliot, sprawled across the bed, right arm propped behind his head as he holds his book in his left.

He's only in his tank top and boxers, and the way he's laying, the hem of his top has ridden up to expose some of his stomach. And his arms are now on display, the fake tattoos Hardison and I placed yesterday are now visible, no longer covered by his button up.

The sight sends a heat through me, not helping in the slightest in the oven of our room.

I walk to my suitcase and shove my dirty clothes in.

"You okay?" He asks.

"I'm fine."

He then mutters something and goes back to reading.

I roll my eyes at him, crab my book and settle on the bed next to him, shoving a spare pillow between us.

We stay that way for a few hours, not talking, but at least it wasn't awkward.

When the words on the page begin to blur together, and read the same paragraph over again, I finally decide to put it away and get some sleep.

I tuck my book mark in, and place it on the nightstand, turning the light off, and shuffle down into the bed.

"Goodnight, Eliot." I say as I get comfortable.

"Night," he grumbles.

He moves a few minutes later, turning off his side lamp and settling in bed.

We lay back to back, like we have the past few nights. The only difference now is that it's like a sauna now.

I lay in the bed, blankets tossed off to the foot of the bed. I can feel Eliot radiating heat.

Rolling over, facing him, trying to find some part of the sheets that might be cool still. And I do, but it's gone in a flash.

I can make out his profile in the dark. He lays on his back, hand over his stomach, breathing shallow, and still as a board.

"You're staring," He mumbles.

"No m'not."

"You are. And to jostle the bed every time you move."

"'M just trying to get comfortable but I'm hot."

"So'm I. But I'm still trying to sleep."

I huff, sitting up on my elbow, leaning over him slightly.

"Easy for you to say. You aren't laying next to a radiator. Do you know how much heat you put off. It's like an oven in here, and you are putting off heat. How do you expect me to be able to sleep when it's this hot. I'm pretty sure I'm gonna get heat exhaustion or -"

He moves so quickly I don't have time to react. He grabs my side in one hand and pushes me back into the bed. His body is pressed into mine as he pins me to the bed. Not so that I can't get away at all, but to make me stop moving for a moment.

"I have slept in worse conditions, and survived. So, you better quit complaining about how hot it it is, before I get you a reason to feel hot."

We lay there, body's pressed together. His eyes glow slightly with the light from the street lamps.

"That a promise?"

***********************************************

I sit at the table of the hotel's dining room table, head resting on my hand trying to wake up.

A hand on my shoulder gains my attention, I open my eyes to see Eliot's hand placing a mug of coffee in front of me.

I smile at him in thanks as he sits next to me.

The first sip is warm and comforting, mixed up perfectly. Of course it was.

"What's that on your neck?" Parker asks, pointing to the mark on my neck.

Her question is like a bucket of ice water dumped over me.

I look to her, bring a hand to my neck. I thought my hair had covered it, but it must've shifted.

"Um, I burned it, on a curling iron," I lie, hoping she'll except it.

"But your hair isn't curled. And Eliot has a similar one."

I look to Eliot, his gaze fixed on Parker, his expression neutral.

My gaze falls from his face to his neck, and sure enough, on his neck hidden by his hair, is a bruise I had left last night.

He finally looks at me, but before either of us can say something, Hardison, Nate, and Sophie join us at the table.

We all exchange groggy 'mornings' before Parker breaks the silents.

"She said she burned her neck with a curling iron," she points at me, then to Eliot. "But he has the same kind of mark, and he doesn't use a curling iron."

My face gets hot. I lean my elbows on the table and bury my face in my hands, trying to hide from the rest of the team.

"Got damn!" Hardison exclaims. "You did the nasty!"

***********************************************

#eliot spencer #eliot spencer x reader #leverage fanfic #leverage

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onomatopoetic101999 · 4 months ago

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Regrets

Eliot Spencer x reader

Set during and after The Studio Job (S:3, E:6)

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The men Kirkwood hired to intimidate Nate had noticed you were with him and brought you along by force. They were tall - taller than Nate, and definitely taller than you. At first, you aren’t worried. Eliot would come to save you both in just a few seconds. But then, a minute passes of Nate quietly calling him with no answer. You whisper your own plea of his name, but nothing comes back. You aren’t worried about him being hurt - nobody had a reason to hurt him. No, if he wasn’t answering, it was because he had taken his earpiece out. But why…?

As the men tie you and Nate to the chairs they (forcefully) sat you in, you try to fight the sinking feeling in your stomach. That singer, your client. Kaye… something? She had been eyeing up Eliot since you had first met her. Surely he wouldn’t… not on a job…

Your thoughts are interrupted by a pained wheeze on your left, brought on by a powerful punch to Nate’s stomach. You cry out at them to stop, barely remembering to keep your southern accent intact, but the men just laugh at you. One even goes so far as to backhand you for talking too loudly. He has a ring on, and the power of the blow and the sting of the cut it slices through your cheek makes you gasp as your head is whipped to the side. The man then grabs your chin, turning it so you have to look him in the eyes.

“I said ‘keep quiet’ Sweetheart.”

Where Eliot’s “Sweetheart” always gives you a sort of warm, fuzzy feeling, this man saying it chills your blood. You glare up at him with watering eyes. Distantly, you hear Eliot’s urgent voice in your ear saying, “hang on!” but it barely registers.

Before you can fire back, probably just to receive more punishment, Nate pipes up.

“C’mon, y’all. That’s no way to treat a lady,” he lets out a wheezing laugh, “it’s me you’re trying to ‘convince’ ain’t it?”

When they shift their attention back on him, he smiles easily, playing up his confidence.

“Besides, which one of y’all would be getting the most money out of this anyway? Kirkwood doesn’t pay well from what I hear.”

The men pause and look at each other and, amazingly, begin to argue. The argument turns to blows, and before long, they both are knocked out.

You turn to Nate, amazed.

“How did you know that would work?”

Nate winks.

“I didn’t.”

Just then, the door bursts open, revealing Hardison, Parker, Sophie, and Eliot. The others run straight for Nate, and Eliot beelines it for you. He skips untying you by cutting the rope with a pocket knife before sinking to his knees in front of you. He hovers his hands around your face, eyes locked on the angry, red line that you can feel dripping blood down your cheek. You narrow your eyes when they meet his, and don’t bother to hide the tears leaving them.

He opens his mouth to say something, but you cut him off.

“Where were you? Actually, you know what?” You stand abruptly and turn to help the others with Nate.

“I don’t even want to know.”

“Sweetheart, I…”

You ignore him, straightening your clothes and swiftly walking out the door.

-------

The rest of the job is tense. Eliot clearly feels some kind of responsibility to this woman (Kaye Lynn, you learn she is called). He is furious when he finds out about Kirkwood stealing the song to perform, and he is determined to fix it for her.

He tries multiple times throughout to talk to you, to apologize, but you give him the cold shoulder. How dare he. How dare he! After flirting with you for months. You knew he was a player, you knew he got around, but this? Sleeping with a client on the job? Letting Nate and you get hurt?

…

Honestly, you should have seen it coming. Kaye Lynn was perfect; she was petite, talented, cute - everything you weren’t. Where Kaye Lynn had to look up to meet Eliot’s eyes, you could meet them head on. Where picking Kaye Lynn up would be a breeze, picking you up would take effort. You weren’t ashamed of your height, quite the opposite, but you hated when men saw it as a hindrance to your looks. You’d thought that Eliot was… well, it doesn’t matter what you’d thought. You had been wrong, clearly.

It isn’t until after the con that you speak to him again. In truth, it’s Hardison who convinces you, though you know he would take that to his grave.

You’re in the kitchen of the office/apartment, cleaning and reapplying a bandage to your cut, when he and Eliot walk in. They’re laughing and talking as they enter, but Eliot’s smile dies when he sees what you’re doing. He comes around the island to your side, sitting down next to you heavily.

“Sweetheart, I’m so-”

You stand and grab your mirror before collecting your excess bandages and heading out the door.

You hear Eliot sigh as you leave, but you don’t turn around. You don’t even realize Hardison has followed you until you’re sitting in the poker room, and he takes a seat next to you.

“He really is sorry, you know.”

At this, you frown.

“Is he? He seemed pretty content while Kaye Lynn was still around. Honestly, sleeping with a client in the middle of a job?”

Hardison nods in agreement.

“I know, he was completely in the wrong. He let you get hurt, and worse,” He puts a hand on yours to stop what you’re doing and make you focus on him, “He hurt you. In more ways than one.”

At your narrowed eyes, he smiles wryly.

“C’mon. You really thought nobody would notice? You’ve been head over heels since you joined, Girlie.”

You sigh in defeat and nod, tears coming to your eyes now that it’s been said out loud. You love him. You’re in love with him, and he let you get hurt because he was distracted with screwing another woman.

You lay your head in your crossed arms and let out your anguish in a long sigh. Hardison places a comforting hand on your back, rubbing back and forth until you’re all cried out. You sit back up, and Hardison hands you a tissue.

“I get it, Girlie, really I do. You think it doesn’t hurt every time Parker doesn’t…” he sighs. “These kinds of things take time.”

You look at him and nod in consolation.

“He shouldn’t have done what he did, and I am not saying you should give him a free pass. I guess,” he rubs a hand over his head, “I guess I’m just saying give him a chance to explain himself. If his excuses are crap, by all means, keep ignoring him, but girl.” He shakes his head this time, frowning at you. “He is miserable. Absolutely miserable. Like, ‘I don’t think I’ll ever be happy again’ miserable.”

Somehow, you don’t doubt that. You’ve never doubted that Eliot cares for you; he cares about the whole team, despite how he tries to hide it. No, you just know he doesn’t care enough. Not enough to go further than just flirting, and not enough to think of you when another woman was in front of him.

You sigh. It’s not his fault he doesn’t like you the same way. He could have paid better attention, sure, but you can’t keep hating him forever. If you’re honest with yourself, you never did hate him.

“Fine.”

Hardison gives the air a fist bump before standing up. Before he leaves, he leans down to you.

“Don’t tell him I said any of that, okay? I don’t want his head to get bigger than it already is.”

You offer a soft laugh.

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

—------

The next time you see Eliot, you’re thankful you’re alone. You’re doing research on the next con when he comes into the office. You take a deep breath when you see him, and you try to look past the immediate anger you feel. He looks… tired. And exactly as Hardison said: miserable. There are dark circles under his eyes, and when he sees you his eyes light up momentarily before growing dim again. He takes a hesitant step towards you when he, too, notices you’re alone.

“Sw-” he stops, and begins again, this time with your name.

The change makes your heart ache.

“I’m sorry.” he pauses, and when you stay put, just looking at him, he stumbles the rest of the way forward to take your hand in his.

“I am so sorry I let that happen to you. I don’t know what I was thinking. I was exhilarated from performing and I needed to get y-” he cuts himself off again, “you don’t need my excuses. ” he raises a hand to gently run a finger along your cut and he winces as if he can feel it himself.

“Would,” he pauses, as if hesitant to ask, “would you tell me what happened?”

You nod, and tell him the whole story. When you mention the man called you “Sweetheart” after slapping you, his eyes grow dark, as if he’s planning every way he could go back and murder him.

He rubs his thumb along the back of your hand, and lets the hand on your face turn to cup your cheek.

“I will never, ever stop apologizing for what I let them do.”

You shake your head.

“You’ve been apologizing for weeks, El.”

“It’s not enough.”

You sigh, deciding now is as good a time as any to tell him how you felt. Maybe, if he’s still in the throes of guilt, he’ll let you down gently, though in the back of your mind you know he’ll do that anyway.

“That wasn’t… that wasn’t the only reason I was upset.”

Eliot’s frown deepens.

“I was upset because you were sleeping with her while I was getting hurt.”

He sighs, ”I didn’t know you were-”

“I was upset that you were sleeping with her at all.”

At that he stops and looks at you for a moment. Really looks at you. He takes in your tired eyes, your flushed face, your frowning mouth, your tensed posture… He looks, realizes, and frowns deeply. Your heart sinks.

“I know, I know I have no right to be upset about that.” You raise your hands in surrender and stand to take a step back, “and I know you don’t feel the same way, I just-”

He stands up immediately at that, and follows you step for step until you’re backed against the wall. He shakes his head, still frowning, and reaches forward to place a hand beside your head.

“‘You know I don’t feel the same way’?” he groans your name to the ceiling before looking back into your eyes, “I cannot believe how royally I screwed all of this up…”

You shake your head in confusion.

“I don’t…”

He leans in, then, presses the smallest of kisses against the side of your mouth.

“Sweetheart, I slept with her to get over you.”

At your shocked face, he sighs again.

“I know that’s a terrible reason, but it's the truth. The entire time I was up there singing, I was thinking of you. Of your voice and your smile and your beautiful mind. Of how if and when we all go our separate ways, you will be who I miss the most. Who I’ll be thinking of for the rest of my life.”

“You’ve- this whole-” You push on his shoulders a bit, but he doesn’t budge.

“This whole time?!” You shove again, but it’s like shoving a brick wall. In fact, it seems to urge him closer, leaning in to press a hesitant kiss to the side of your neck.

“I know,” he whispers and presses kisses beneath your ear when you don’t stop him, “I know, I’m sorry, Sweetheart.”

“I can’t believe you would…” your voice trails off when his arms wrap around your back to pull you closer, still mouthing along your neck and shoulder.

“Honey, I can’t tell you how sorry I am.” His voice is still soft, you feel the vibrations of it against your skin, and it sends shivers down your body that you know he can feel in return.

He leans back, then, and waits until your eyes open before continuing.

“She meant nothing to me. I know men say that a lot, but it's true. I lo- well.” he pulls you closer again to bury his head against your neck, this time out of embarrassment. You give a small laugh, and reach up to run a hand through his hair.

“You…?” you’re half teasing him now, but you need to hear him say it.

You feel more than hear him take a deep breath then lean back again to look you in the eyes.

“I love you, Sweetheart.”

You beam.

“I love you too, Eliot.”

#magsspeaks #magsscreamsintothevoid #fic rec #ficrec #magsrecs #magswrites #eliot spencer #eliot leverage #eliot spencer x reader #Alec Hardison #hardison x parker #nate ford

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plussizefantasia · 9 months ago

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CozyTober Day 4: The Smell of Smoke in the Air

Eliot Spencer x reader

wc: 2.7k (this sprinted away from me)

warnings: minor discussion of dv, drinking alcohol

a/n: Eliot is one of those characters that I have to write stories for myself because there isn't very many people who do. So to all the people who love him like me: here ya go! Please Reblog if you enjoyed this so more people can see it too! See you all later for Day 5!

One week… Nate had given the team one week to recoup and recollect after our latest con went sideways. The grumpy bastard shoos you all out of the brewpub and tells you not to come back for a week or he’ll sick Sophie on you. Hardison and Parker don’t seem to have a problem with it, they jaunt out of the doors, tossing ideas of what to do between them all the while. You distinctly hear Parker mention something about a new vent installation at a museum whose name you can't pronounce. You shake your head but smile. It's nice, that Alec and Parker have each other, someone to share the troubles of this kind of life with.

“So what you gonna do with your week?” Eliot sidles up next to you, hands you a mug, and joins you in looking out the window into the rain that seems perpetual here.

“Not sure” you shrug, “maybe skip town, visit one of my other apartments?” you shrug and take a sip, chai with a dash of vanilla and cream exactly the way you make it. You’d probably spend the week in Seattle, and check in on your building. You paid for it under a fake name that Hardison was kind enough to put together for you. The penthouse held some of you stuff, decorated and ready to go just in case, and the rest of the building was down-low housing for women who needed it. You had set it up when the team was splitsville after the David job. You suddenly had more money than you knew what to do with and wanted to put some more good into the world.

“Sounds like a good time.” Eliot sips from his own mug. “Want company?”

His question is masked with a heavy nonchalance but you know Eliot, better than the rest of the team and maybe even better than himself. You clock the way his eyes dart to the ground and he licks the corner of his mouth. He’s nervous, but trying not to show it.

Silly man, doesn’t he know that spending time with him is all you ever want to do? Doesn’t he know that he’s the reason you stuck around? Sure, working with a man like Nate Ford, and doing good was reason enough, but Eliot- Eliot is who you’d follow to the ends of the earth, Nate Ford be damned.

“Why not?” You shrug and flash a smirk at him. “We‘ll leave in two hours, I have a pilot who owes me a favor. Unless a private plane is too rich for your blood.” You quirk an eyebrow at him.

“Two hours, see you then.” Eliot winks at you and downs what is left in his mug. He turns and walks away, pushing past the doors and into the brewpub kitchen.

You let out a sharp breath and smile privately. You shake your head and pull out your phone, you have a call to make.

“Frankie, it’s me. I’m calling in that favor you owe me.”

____

Two hours later you are waiting at the runway, a packed duffle on the ground by your feet. You tap your phone against your palm and scan the entrances looking for Eliot. You had texted him the address half an hour ago and he had responded with “;)” which could mean literally anything and you kinda want to hit him for not using actual words.

Frankie descends from the plane and nods to you, “Ready to go?” he asks, reaching down to grab your duffle.

“Patience is a virtue, Morales.” You bit your lip and continue looking around for any sign of Eliot.

You don’t have to wait much longer, the sound of Eliot’s boots hitting the asphalt perks your ears. He is sporting a dark pair of jeans, a red henley, and his leather jacket. His hair pushed back buy the pair of aviators sitting atop his head. He also has a duffle bag, dark brown leather with silver hardware. You can tell that it’s well-loved, how many places has that bag been?

“Not planning on leaving without me were you sweetheart?” Eliot flashes you a disarming smile and comes to a stop in front of you.

“You’re late.” You shoot back.

“Couldn’t find parking.” He shrugs and moves towards the door of the plane, taking the steps two at a time. He peeks his head out from the door and looks down at you, still standing on the runway. “You coming?” He asks.

The plane ride is nice, the two of you talk for some of the six-hour flight. You sleep for a little bit of it, Eliot reads a leatherbound book that you can’t read the name of. It’s peaceful, which isn’t usually the case when it comes to the time you two get to spend together.

Eventually, you land in Seattle and disembark. Frankie passes you keys as you get off the plane. “This makes us even right?” You nod at him and respond, “Yeah, we’re even. At least until the next time I need to save your ass.”

He laughs and claps you on the back, radioing to the tower for a refueling tankard so he can head back home.

You and Eliot walk side by side through the airport, easily locating the Jeep Frankie had arranged for you in the lot. It’s a nice forest green and looks brand new, you’ll have to ask him where he found it.

“Hop in, it’s another forty-five minutes into the city.” You climb into the driver’s seat and toss your bag in the back.

The car ride is similar to the plane. Talking with Eliot is easy, he embraces low-stakes conversation just as well as he listens to the tougher stuff.

Eventually, you get into the city and a few minutes later you are pulling into a street lot next to your building. It’s nondescript, blending in easily with the buildings around it. You grab your duffle and Eliot does the same, making your way to the front stoop. You press the buzzer button next to the door and wait a moment before the light flashes green and the e-lock on the door disengages.

Eliot raises an eyebrow at the level of security but you just shake your head at him. “I’ll tell you later.” You mouth. He nods and steps out of the wetness that was Seattle’s downtown and into the space.

The lobby is sparse and painted a muted grey but it isn’t clinical in a way that neutral spaces can sometimes be. There’s a certain warmth that emanates throughout the whole space.

You nod your head at the blonde woman sitting behind the desk sitting in the corner.

“Hey Marcy, how are things going?”

“Good! We’ve moved out three girls and moved in two more.”

“Sounds like a busy month, are you taking time for yourself?” You ask her.

“‘Course I am, in fact, Tommy will be by soon to pick me up so we can go see that new spooky movie in theaters.”

“Good, well we won’t hold you. Have a good night Marce.”

“You too ma’am.”

You visibly grimace. “I’ve told you to use my name every time you’ve called me ma’am since we met Marcy.”

“You’re my boss, ma’am.” You can see her trying to hide a smile and just laugh lightly before making your way towards the elevator.

“One day Marcy, one day you will use my actual name.”

Eliot just stands back and takes in the banter, he doesn’t really know how to feel at the moment. You have a whole different life here, with people he doesn’t know and apparently, you’re a boss? What else doesn’t he know about you? He’s excited at the prospect of figuring that out.

“Eliot, are you coming?” You ask him, hand out holding open the elevator doors.

That spurs him into action and he sends a polite nod to Marcy’s way before following you into the smaller space.

The ride up is short, only eight floors before you reach the top floor, your floor.

The space is decorated exactly to your taste, this is your favorite place to lay low and he can tell. The space screams you and he can’t wait to spend a week with you here. He’s been trying for literal years to bridge the gap between friends and coworkers to something more but there has always been something in the way. First, it was his own hangups about his past, then it was Moreau. Then the team was under attack, then, then, then. But now... Now was his chance and he would not waste it.

“I imagine you have questions.” You split the silence, offering him a tumbler of amber liquid.

“A few, what is this place?”

“This place as in my apartment, or this place as in the whole building?”

“Yes.” He takes a sip of the whiskey. It’s deep and oaky, smooth. The way he likes it.

“Well, after Dubenich tried to blow us up I figured I could use a place off the record that I could lay low in if push comes to shove. My share of that job was a lot bigger than I thought it would be so I started looking around. I’ve got places like that all over the globe, five I think. This building though, it’s the only one I have like it.” You make your way to the large couch in the center of the space, it looks both chic and comfy at the same time, and when he sits he’s surprised by the softness.

“I bought the whole building, it was easier paperwork-wise that way, but I didn’t need the other twenty-four apartments so I started a shelter. I hired Marcy, who has actual experience in that kind of thing, and asked her how much money she would need to keep this place running and stocked. She gave me a number, I added a zero to the end of it and gave her an expense account. I have more money than I know what to do with, but Marcy does, so…” You shrug and take a sip of your own drink.

“Thats … amazing.” Eliot breathes into the space. “You’re amazing.” He says a little louder. “Not many people in your situation would do the same thing.”

“I’ve done some pretty shitty stuff El. I guess… This is my way of trying to put more good into the world than bad. Like, evening out the scales of karma or something like that.”

“Yeah,” He whispers, “I know what that's like.”

“I know you do, who do you think gave me the idea?” You look at him.

Eliot places his empty glass down on a coaster sitting on the edge of your side table and grabs your own out of your hand, putting in right next to his. He holds your hand in his own. The roughness of his skin brushes nicely against your own. Your eyes track from the point of contact, up his arms, and into his eyes. He’s already staring at you, deeply looking into your own eyes as soon as they make contact.

“I didn’t think that I deserved nice things. I had done unspeakable things to innocent people. Guys like me don’t get happy endings. Then, you crashed into my life with your soft edges and your witty jokes, and your awful taste in music. You made me want nice things. You made me…” he trailes off.

“Made you what, Eliot?” You search his face for the answers you want.

“You made me hope.” He whispers into the air.

A smile spreads across your face, soft and filled with all the love you have in your heart for the man in front of you.

“Good.” You laugh, pulling Eliot’s face into your hand and placing a single delicate kiss on the corner of his lips.

You pull back, only inches away, and scan his face once more. You clock the small scars that paint his face. Places where skin had split and healed and split again. Your eyes trace the curve of his brow, the plushness of his lips, and the shadow of stubble trailing his jawline. Most noticeably though, you watch a flush run up his neck and fill his cheeks.

Your smile widens. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you blush before,” you tell him.

“I haven’t.” He laughs.

“I like it.” You kiss the other corner of his lips softly, waiting and wanting for the flush to grow a deeper shade of red.

That second kiss though, spurs Eliot into action, and from one second to the next you are in his lap, as he ravishs your lips. He’s forceful and gentle at the same time, pulling all kinds of feelings from your heart and noises from your throat.

The sun sets.

The sun rises.

Sometime in between you fall asleep on your couch, you laying between his legs with your head resting on the left side of his chest. His arms wrap loosely around you and his hair forms a halo around his head.

Somehow you wake before him and manage to slip out of his hold, replacing your body with a pillow in his arms when he begins to stir.

You stand over him for a minute grinning like an idiot at the sight of his chest peeking out between the open buttons of his knit shirt. God, you could get used to waking up to a sight like this.

You decide with a quick scan of the pantry and fridge that you’ll make pancakes for breakfast, you have a box mix a bottle of oil, and a single unopened bag of chocolate chips.

You practically dance around your kitchen, mixing the batter, heating a pan, and spooning out enough for the first couple of pancakes.

—

Eliot wakes up when the sun streams in from the window and casts over his eyes. He takes in his surroundings and smiles his own goofy smile when he remembers what happened the night before.

Surprising even himself, he recalls more of the conversation between the two of you than anything else that had transpired. You have more in common than he realized, this both soothes his heart and makes it ache at the same time. What had you gone through before meeting the team? What had you done that made you seek your own form of redemption? How could he ease those burdens for you? Could he ease them at all?

He’s brought out his musing by the wafting smell of smoke followed by the loud chirping of the smoke detector. He jumps up from his spot on the couch and follows the smell to the kitchen where his eyes land on you. You’re standing in front of a pan of what he assumes was supposed to be pancakes except they’re charred and stuck to the bottom of the pan.

He swoops in and takes the pan from your hands, kissing you on the cheek as he brushes past you and towards the sink.

“What were you planning to make for breakfast, rocks?” he teases you and chuckles at the pout that spreads across your lips.

“They were supposed to be pancakes.” You glare at him.

“Sit,” he points at the stools sitting on the other side of your island. “I’ll take over.”

You obey, though not without rolling your eyes. Eliot’ll make better pancakes than you could anyway so it isn’t too much of a loss. Your pride is a small price to pay for amazing food.

You watch him move around the space like he owns it. And you start to think, not for the first time how amazing it would be to have Eliot in your space like this all the time.

You’re going to enjoy this week. You make a mental note to thank Nate Ford again, then think better of it. He doesn’t need anything else to inflate his ego.

#cozytober2024 #eliot spencer #eliot spencer x reader #eliot spencer x plus size reader #leverage #leverage tv #plus size reader #plus size!reader #fanfic #x reader #requests open #requests wanted

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deangirlsstuff67 · 26 days ago

Text

Dammit

Eliot Spencer x Reader

Summary: You want to get to know him better, you end up getting to know him much better than expected.

Warnings: cock warming, anal, anal play, fingering, cum play, squirting, dirty talk, language, fluff, period sex

Authors Note: I’ve started watching leverage and let’s face it Christian Kane is amazing ;) hope you enjoy my venture into this fandom as much as I do !

—————————————————————————

The hitter.

Eliot sees himself as nothing but broken. The shit he’s done and people he’s hurt have stayed with him throughout his life.

Lone wolf.

He’s past has lead him to becoming a hitter for his crew. In a twisted way he sees himself as the protector of the group.

You met the crew when your ex boyfriend conned you out of your entire savings. You couldn’t believe that they got every penny back for you and exposed him for who he truly was. That’s how you met Eliot.

Your broken prince.

The moment his blue eyes locked on you, you knew you were fucked. Problem is he doesn’t get close to anyone besides his team and even they don’t know him that well. Eliot flirts and chats you up any chance he can but he doesn’t go farther than that, you could fuck him all day long but you want more.

You want to show him he’s wrong and there is absolutely nothing wrong with him or his past. You always had a deep love for strays. You could have left when they had gotten your money back, instead you stayed. You stayed because in a weird way they are a family which is something you’ve never truly had.

Guess you’re a stray too.

Your room shares a wall with Eliot’s room. You’ve been taking full advantage of that as much as you can and tonight is no different. Mother Nature brought you your monthly gift a few days ago, for reasons unknown you become a needy, horny mess when you’re on your period. Tonight is no different.

And you aren’t shy about it either. Letting the moans and whimpers be loud enough that you know Eliot can hear you through the wall.

You’re on your knees with a thick dildo, you bought one you assumed was close to his size, sliding in and out of your asshole while a vibrator is buzzing on your bundle of nerves. You aren’t sure when he’s resolve finally snapped, didn’t hear him come into your room to see you in your current situation, it wasn’t until his hand pushed the one holding the vibrator down harder that your eyes snapped opened to see him starring down at your dripping pussy.

“Dammit.” He said it as a whisper but it sounded like a promise all the same.

His voice tips you over the edge into pure bliss. Thighs tremble, his name leaves your lips as your body sags forward and into his strong, hard chest. He’s there, he catches you, but he doesn’t stop. Desire has taken control of him. The vibrator is still snuggled against your clit at his hand, his other one snakes around your waist and down to the dildo still deep in your puckered hole.

“This what you wanted sweetheart, all those nights I’ve jerked my cock off to the pretty little noises you made, were they all for me?”

You don’t respond, fuck you can’t even if you tried so fucked out because he’s here and this isn’t a dream anymore. He grabs control of the pink dildo and pulls it out to the tip before slowly pushing it back in to watch your hole take every last inch. He repeats the action, never speeding up, your body is building towards another orgasm quickly.

“Fuck that’s hot, imagine if it was my cock instead y/n,” his voice is wrecked, control barely hanging on by a thread, “imagine your tight, little hole being split in two by my thick hard cock while you sink down in my lap, my fingers deep in your pussy with your legs spread wide across my thighs, this pretty cunt dripping all over my lap making a mess.”

A whimper is all that comes out.

“I think we should do that, don’t you? See how much your swollen cunt can take. She’s drooling for me baby girl.” His finger strokes through your folds and that’s when he finds the tampon string. You honestly figured it would gross him out and he’d leave. Instead Eliot growls in your ear and pulls until the tampon is removed, throwing it into the waste basket by your bed, he replaces it with two thick fingers pushing into your soppy cunt. “Oh sweetheart, you kinky little minx, now we are going to have some really fun.”

—————————————————————————

Eliot is a kinky bastard, for some reason you never figured that to be true. Makes sense now that you think about it, though that’s hard currently given the position Eliot has you in. He kept his word, you have his hard dick stretching your tight channel full while your back is pressed against his chest.

“Look at you sweetheart, so cock drunk for me while you keep my dick nice and warm.”

He’s large fingers are slowly working your well used heat over with every drag over your g spot, “fuck y/n I’m going to cum just from the mess your creating on my lap and this tight little ass squeezing me so good.” He growled in your ear as another orgasm rips through your exhausted body.

“Eliot I don’t think I can take anymore.” Heavy panting in your ear indicates he’s close, cock twitching inside you.

“One more sweetheart, I need to feel you milk my dick one more time before I fill you full of my cum so it’s leaking out of you for days.”

“Oh fu— u— ck, yes baby,” you start bouncing slowly on his dick as his fingers rapidly fuck your cunt, lips kissing every part of you that he can, “so deep inside me.”

“That’s it sweetheart, fuck yourself on my dick.”

“You’re close, I can feel you squeezing my fingers.”

That’s all it takes before your body goes rigid as the best orgasm of your life washes over you. Eyes roll in the back of your head, Eliot’s name on your breath.

“Fucking hell, such a filthy fucking girl.” Growling in your ear he grabs your hips and starts pistoling into your asshole. Doesn’t take long before you feel the warmth of his cum filling your insides. The feeling brings another smaller orgasm for you, that’s when you feel it, like you’re peeing on his lap. Looking down you watch your pussy gush onto Eliot.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry… I… i… sorry…”

“Wha-,” coming down from the best orgasm he’s ever experienced it takes him a moment to understand what you’re saying. Looking over your shoulder he chuckles as he brings a hand to play with your messy pussy again, “you didn’t pee y/n, relax.”

His fingers move with skill and precision as he quickly makes you gush again.

“Mmm… that sweetheart is your pretty, tight, warm, soft, filthy little pussy telling me she enjoys what I do to her.”

You watch in amazement as he easily makes you leak cum over and over again. Groaning in your ear each time because not only has he never been with a woman who squirts before but your ass is squeeze his sensitive penis every time it happens.

“You’re a squirter baby girl. Messy, filthy, dirty little hole for me to play with whenever I want… because I’m never letting you go again.” Nippling on your ear lobe he whispers with a growl, “you’re mine y/n.”

—————————————————————————

Kinky? Yes.

Dirty? Yes.

Dominant? Fuck yes.

Tonight you’ve seen them all and now you have the great pleasure of seeing the side no one else has in a long time. The sweet side of Eliot. Softly he picks you up and carries you to the bathroom. Turning on the shower he leads you inside.

He doesn’t do anything but wash you up and hold you as he massages your sore, wore out muscles in the warm water spraying down.

Nothing is said between the two of you. Just soft touches and lingering looks. Finally, as you’re looking into his beautiful ocean blue eyes he speaks, “I meant what I said, you’re mine now sweetheart. I should have done it months ago, I was scared. But now, fuck y/n I couldn’t walk away even if I wanted to. Please say you’re mine.”

You smile up at him and bring your hand to rest on his chest, “oh that’s cute El, cause I’m pretty sure you’re mine not the other way around.” You laugh as you stand on your tip toes to give him a heated kiss. Eliot backs you against a the tiled wall, drawing one of your legs up so he can have easy access to your cunt.

“Oh sweetheart, that’s a dangerous game you’re playing.” His fingers ghost over your tired core causing you to moan. You’ll be sore in the morning and walking funny, but you don’t care. This man is yours and you’re about to own every part of him.

“Bring it on baby, I’ve always enjoyed playing with fire.”

—————————————————————————

Taglist:

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#christian kane smut #eliot spencer #eliot spencer x reader #Eliot Spencer x y/n #Eliot Spencer x you #Eliot Spencer x female reader #christian kane fanfiction #christiankane #christian kane #leverage

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rainbow-universe · 2 months ago

Text

Smile Over the Fence

5 Times Your Neighbours Showed Up At Your Apartment +1 Time You Showed Up At Theirs You get new neighbours and meet them and their friends in varying ways.

first leverage fic lets gooooooooooo (haven't watched s3 of redemption yet but i am so excited to!!)

just a fun silly little leverage fic :))

title from his quote: “A good neighbor is a fellow who smiles at you over the back fence, but doesn’t climb over it.” from Arthur Baer

cross-posted on ao3

wc: 4k

1. your new neighbours have just moved in across the hall, but you haven’t met them yet. you’ve seen them, at a distance, but rarely. they moved in efficiently and effectively and it barely seems like you have neighbours. not that you're waiting at your door for them to come out, you have a life. work, chores, friends, things to do. but when you're wandering the halls, on your way out, coming back, you nod to the neighbours you see, give them a little wave, say hi in the mail room as you cross paths.

but your new neighbours, well, they seem interesting, and you offer them quick greetings as you pass by in hall, but you haven’t really met them yet. they don't seem the type to bring over a casserole to meet their new neighbours and you aren't either. but you suppose you'll keep passing them by in the halls and meet them eventually.

the first one you meet is Parker, when she drops down into your apartment from, where you later learn, the vents.

you’ve seen them around before so maybe you’re not as freaked out as you should be to have someone pop out of nowhere in your apartment.

you introduce yourself and ask if they’re from across the hall. her face scrunches, realizing this isn’t the intended apartment.

xe introduces xemself, and you get a name for the face. Parker.

“it’s nice to meet you,” you say, then offer aer food because you were just about to make some for yourself, why not make some for your unexpected guest too and get to know your new neighbour.

they’re a bit suspicious but accept. you ask xem to point out things they like from what you have, you whip something up, serve it on your breakfast counter and eat together in silence.

Parker had only eaten half their plate when she starts picking at it.

you knew not everyone had a good, or even neutral, relationship with food.

“did you want to take it home? have it for later? or if you’re done, we can throw it out, it’s ok. the majority of food waste doesn’t come from households,” you offer, concentrating on your own food so ae has time to process and think about it. “or, you can bring it home and decide later if you want to eat it or throw it out, or give it to a friend,” you add.

you wonder if xe likes chocolate. you offer xem some and she perks up, eyes brightening, so you grab it from the other counter.

“im not sure if it’s good or not … if you like it, you can have it.” you hold it out to aer.

they grab it and open it fast, precisely, aggressively, not giving the package an option of not opening. ae bites into it immediately. thinks about it.

“it’s good.”

you smile. you’d just bought that chocolate, but maybe you’d bought it to make new friends. “good. you can have it.”

she smiles and hums.

xe leaves a little later, deciding to take their leftovers home.

you pack it up in a container you’ll only be a little sad to lose if it doesn’t make its way back.

(and if pictures and other items start disappearing from your apartment, and then reappearing a few days later … well, maybe you have a ghost, and who were you to stop them?)

(and if you started leaving small chocolates in place of your missing items every once in a while? well, they sometimes got returned faster. maybe it wouldn’t be great for your wallet in the long run, but it seemed like a nice way to make friends, didn’t it?)

(and if your container showed up a week after Parker went home with it in the back of your cupboard … well, you’ll thank your ghost with an extra chocolate left by your missing lamp.)

2. the next neighbour that shows up to your apartment is Alec Hardison.

there’s a banging on your door. when you answer it, confused, your neighbour is immediately steamrolling into an explanation of how his wifi just went out and he’s in the middle of something urgent and doesn’t have time to fix his own and can he please come in and borrow your wifi for a bit?

you let him in but tell him that if he slows down your wifi afterwards because he’s still using it, you’ll call the super on him, so they’ll never have a moment of peace, that there’ll always be someone wandering in to check on the water pressure.

he agrees with an amused laugh, setting up on your couch. you tell him the wifi but get the sense that even if you didn’t, he’d be able to connect.

you have chores to do that afternoon and he’s still there, so you let him know that if he leaves before you get back to lock the door behind him.

he assures you he will, and you leave him to it, grabbing your phone, wallet and whatever else you need.

he’s gone when you get back, space cleaned it up bar a few missed crumbs and a note in the middle of the coffee table with his name, number and a thanks for the wifi!, no other evidence he was ever there.

(except that in the coming weeks you get the sense that your wifi is a bit faster than usual …)

(you feel like you should bake cookies.)

3. the next time it happens, it’s late and you’re just getting in bed when you hear someone at the door.

there’s scraping and muttering and you pre-dial emergency services, but don’t hit ‘call’ yet, as you creep forward, wondering if it’s just a drunk neighbour at the wrong door or a really bad (and loud) thief.

you realize who it is after they break in, thanks to his grumbling. Eliot, one of your other neighbours, the grumpy one, from what you’ve (over)heard and seen at a distance, but a good cook from the brief mentions from the other two.

he’s stumbling about in your apartment, mumbling about …

oh. he may not be drunk, but you think he’s at least in shock, drugged, intoxicated, injured something bad, maybe, because he’s fumbling around, complaining to his partners, not seeming to realize it’s not their place. you turn your phone off.

he’s grumbling to Parker about why’d xe have to hide the first aid kit, he can patch himself up himself thank you very much, he doesn’t need help and dammit Hardison why’d you have to change the lights again?, opening cupboards in your dim streetlight-lit kitchen.

you sneak to your bathroom, grab the first aid kit there and place it on the kitchen counter when his back is turned, sliding back into the shadows, though you don’t quite know why.

he turns and sees it. huffs and says, “i know you’re still upset but thanks,” to the empty air, expecting someone to be able to hear it, hiding in the shadows. not you, though. these words, softer than you’ve even heard him speak, aren’t intended for you. this version of him, more tired than you’ve seen him, soft, open, vulnerable, isn't meant for you.

and maybe that’s why. because he thinks he’s in his safe space, and able to be vulnerable with people important to him, but here you are. an intruder in your own apartment, on accident in this moment, and you don’t want him to feel like he has to pull his mask up again.

(you may know a thing or two about that.)

he takes the kit to the living room, sits on the couch with everything laid out on the coffee table and gets to work patching himself up.

you step quietly into the kitchen, hoping he doesn’t catch you and get startled, grab some painkillers and fill a glass of water. you carry it over to where he sits.

you think maybe he’s so tired, from the pain, from the loneliness, from the day, and he really thinks he’s in his own apartment that it’s normal, not out of place, to hear the almost silent sounds of people sneaking around, that he doesn’t look up.

you place the water and painkillers on the side table, and with one last look (wondering if he needs anything else), you go to your room, hoping you won’t have to wake him from his tired delusion if he tries to come to the bedroom.

he doesn’t and soon enough you fall asleep.

you find him still asleep on your couch in the morning and you think that adjusting the blanket over him would probably wake him up, so you leave him be and get to work in the kitchen, quiet as possible.

he wakes up when you’re on your second set of pancakes.

you watch him out of the corner of your eye as he sits up, clocks the first aid kit on the coffee table, then the familiar unfamiliar room. he looks your way and you give him a small smile.

“hope you don’t have any allergies, i made breakfast.” you nod at the plate laid out on the counter.

he silently walks over. suspiciously, carefully. but lowers himself into the seat and slowly brings a piece to his mouth.

this is the cook of the family, and you’re slightly terrified of not meeting his expectations. you try to focus on the batter on the pan in front of you but can’t help glancing at him to gauge his reaction.

he continues eating, a little faster, and you smile proudly to yourself, feeling like you’ve received approval from Gordon Ramsey, or a middle school date’s parents.

you don’t say much, just offer him more and make sure he knows what sort of toppings and beverages you have, eventually standing across him on the other side of the counter, eating your own breakfast, mirroring when Parker visited the first time.

when he’s done, he thanks you in a quiet, gruff, but sincere, voice.

you smile. “no problem.”

he nods and leaves.

(a few days later you find that your coffee table no longer has one shorter leg, and your bookshelves are all even.)

(you think again that you should bake cookies but worry they wouldn’t hold up to Eliot’s standards.)

4. the fourth time it happens you feel you should really reevaluate your safety procedures and reactions, because there’s someone trying to break in again, and you’re just standing there.

in your defense, it’s happened before. and like then, you can hear the person on the other side muttering to themself. you were going to open if for them and save them the trouble, but you’d heard them when you’ve gotten closer.

“-can’t do it, ha! i’ll show them, he’ll have to take me seriously when i steal all his stuff and make his computer sing every time he opens it! he can’t just cut me out, that jerk! c’mon, i’ve done this before, why won’t this door open!”

you can’t help but feel for the person (kid? they sound younger than your neighbours) and leave them be, leaning back against the wall, allowing them this one victory, and wondering if you need to reevaluate your life because your friends would be very concerned if you told them that you let someone pick your lock.

“ah ha!”

…

“oh.” they stare.

you stare back. they look young, a young adult, wide eyed to have been caught breaking into your apartment, and not their intended location.

“good job.” (your friends would be so concerned) “they’re not back yet, i’m presuming you meant to break in across the hall? 7E vs 7F, happens all the time, anyways, you can chill here for a bit in the meantime, if you want. you hungry? i was just about to make myself a snack.”

they blink. cough. “uh, yah, ok.” unsure, but willing to take a break and snoop.

you introduce yourself and head to the kitchen, gesturing that they can make themself at the counter.

she tells you her name, Breanna.

you smile at her. “nice to meet you, cheese and crackers ok?”

“yah, sure.”

you pull out crackers from the cupboards and some cheese from the fridge and set about slicing it.

“how are you so chill about all this?”

you chuckle and shrug. “you’re not the first one to break into my apartment.”

“but why’d you let me keep going if you heard me? why not call the cops or something? honestly Hardison would’ve chewed me out if he caught me.”

you shrug. “probably should’ve, but, wasn’t the first time it’s happened, and it seemed like you needed a win, didn’t want to keep you from your goal.”

you plate the cheese and crackers on your charcuterie board, a little fancier than you’d been planning, but you had a guest which was a great excuse to be posher than usual.

midway through your snacks you speak up, “if you want to get in a little faster, there’s a spare key hidden by the fire alarm at the end of the hall.” you shrug innocently, making another cheese and cracker sandwich. “just in case you wanted to … i dunno, impress them with your speed and have more time for shenanigans.”

you don’t know Breanna. haven’t seen her around here before, and didn’t know if she actually was here for your neighbours across the hall, didn’t know if she actually knew them at all. but the grin she gave you (bright and mischievous) made you think of a younger sibling’s smile when they were about to annoy their older sibling.

(it was a smile you knew well, you’d seen it plenty times before.)

“thank you!” she was out of her chair and out the door, words left behind fading and leaving you in silence once more.

you lock the door behind her and clean up the kitchen.

(really, if they didn’t want their place broken into, it’d either be secure enough already, or it’d be a good reminder for them to update their security. it’d be good for them.)

the final time … a man is sent to your door.

there’s a knock one day and you’re wondering if it’s one of your Neighbours (across the hall) or one of your neighbours (anyone else in the building). you answer it and don’t recognize the person standing there. “hello?”

“hi, i’m Harry Wilson, i know-” he points to the door across the hall “-your neighbours, i was sent here to ask if i could use your balcony?”

you stare at him. you think he might usually be a confident man from the way he wears his suit, but he seems too business-like to know your neighbours (not that you actually know what they do) and he seems out of his depth. you wonder how he knows them (if he knows them.)

“who sent you?” you raise an eyebrow. you need to be sure before letting this 9-5 businessman into your apartment.

“Sophie and Hardison, and, um-” he frowns.

(he has an adorable frown.)

you don’t know a Sophie (other than Mrs. Tiller’s cat from 11C, but you doubt a cat sent him) but your phone buzzes in your pocket and you take it out.

it’s from Hardison.

he’s with us, u can trust him.

can we use ur balcony for a bit?

Harry’s harmless, dw about him, he was an evil lawyer but he’s doing better now :)

you’re not sure what ‘with them now’ means, and you’re not sure if you want to know, plausible deniability and all, but you're proud you were right about the business type.

you look back up at Harry, consideringly. you step back and open the door wider, gesturing him in. “c’mon in then.”

“thank you,” he smiles.

(he has a nice smile.)

you lead him across you apartment (feeling a little self-conscious at the homey mess that it is) and open the balcony door for him. “here you are.”

“thank you,” he repeats, and goes outside.

you watch him a moment, closing the door slowly, hearing talk to himself in a not-talking-to-himself sort of way (“yes, i have a view of the front of the restaurant and the alley…”) and wonder again just what sort of shenanigans your neighbours get into.

feeling a little confused, unsettled, off-balance, curious … you don’t quite know, you head to your kitchen and set about getting snacks ready.

you assemble a tray and with a deep breath, you take it out to the balcony.

“i brought snacks, may i join you?”

“oh, you didn’t have to, um-” he glances down at the street, whatever’s going on there “-sure, and, uh, if i start talking to myself …”

you wave him off, spreading the snacks out. “won’t hear a thing.”

he smiles, a bit embarrassed, self-conscious, awkward, you’re not sure, but he takes some of the snacks and you eat together, the wind and traffic carrying the conversation between you.

“so. i'm told you were a lawyer?”

he laughs. “an evil lawyer. i quit my practice, trying … i'm trying to do better now, help people instead.”

“a self-declared former evil lawyer. how very … good, of you. it’s good that you’re trying to help people.”

he smiles and you think he’s a bit self-conscious about it, not yet comfortable being a ‘good guy’, but you think he’ll be good at it, if it means this much to him to … redeem himself.

he shifts and you stay silent, sensing his attention has been called back to his work, and the reason you’re out on your balcony.

he responds to presumably the voices in his head, a hidden earpiece, ghosts, maybe…

you fall into companionable silence, but every once in a while, between his … work … talk, he turns and asks you questions about yourself. you return them and end up spending hours talking about all sorts of things under the sun. you find out you like similar things and he makes you laugh more than anyone not in your friend group has been able to in a while.

(and maybe when he’s distracted by relaying the comings and goings of the restaurant's back door you find yourself glancing to see if he wears a wedding ring. he doesn’t. you tell yourself not to think about it so much.)

you go inside in the middle of one of his one-sided conversations, as much as you wanted to stay (it’s amusing to watch after all), you were growing cold and hungry again, you hadn’t realized how long you’d stayed there. so you pack up the dishes and carry them inside and start on dinner, not being able to keep yourself from glancing out the window every once in a while.

it’s almost ready and you’re about to pull out dishes for two, when he comes back inside in a rush.

you raise your eyebrows, a small smile gracing your face.

“i have to go, thank you for everything,” he says on his way out.

“no problem,” you call after him. (at least you hadn’t got out dishes yet.)

you hear him pause at the door. he pops his head back around the corner. “it was really nice to meet you.”

you smile. “yah.”

then he leaves. you lock the door behind him and finish up, serving yourself and sitting at your counter to eat. alone.

(if you have to put on some music or move to the couch to watch a show so it’s not so quiet… well, there was no one to know anyway.)

+1 you don’t talk to you neighbours a lot, in fact you don’t see them all that often either. but their missing presence seems even more pronounced in the following weeks. (you feel like your plants are judging you, smitten after just one meeting??.) maybe they’re just busy, or travelling, or working, or you’re just missing each other every time, but it’s been a while since you’ve seen any of them. (and if you’re a little more eager to one of them in particular? well, that will stay between you and your plants.)

finally, on one of your days off, you take matters into your own hands and start baking.

you make two kinds of cookies, because you panicked and worried that not everyone would like one kind.

you assemble a plate to take over, hype yourself up, put your phone in your pocket, make sure your door’s unlocked so you won’t get locked out (but would it be the worst thing in the world if they had to help you break into your own apartment? … yes, if they weren’t at their apartment and you ended up locked out with only cookies for company), and knock on your neighbours’ door.

“hello?”

you don’t recognize the person who opens the door and immediately panic and wonder if they’ve moved out or if they never lived here in the first place, but then you hear Parker’s voice in the background asking who’s there.

“Sophie? who is it?” ae pops up behind Sophie and waves when she sees you. “hi!”

“hi, i brought, uh-”

“cookies!” the plate is out of your hands before you know it, brought up close to Parker’s face as xe inhales the scent of the freshly baked cookies.

you point out the two kinds. “i, uh, wasn’t sure what you liked so i made two different ones, i hope that’s ok.”

“ooooh yay!! more cookies!!” xe cheers and they’re off, disappearing with the cookies.

you hear more voices from the depth of the apartment, you think it’s Hardison who asks Parker who it was.

“um.” you’re about to return to your apartment, quest to deliver your cookies (and check that your neighbours still existed) accomplished, when you hear Hardison’s voice call out, inviting you in to share the cookies.

Sophie must take pity on your panicked expression at being put on the spot, because she offers again. “you should join us, the cookies will be gone before you know it.”

you glance back at your apartment. “i, uh, let me just go lock up.”

Sophie smiles at you.

you dash inside, make sure you have your phone and keys and panic about going into their apartment. they’ve all been inside of yours at this point (except for Sophie … that you know of), but this will be the first time you’ll be seeing theirs and it scares you more than you can explain.

but you decide, ‘gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss, baby!’, and leave your apartment, locking it behind you and seeing Sophie still standing there with the door open and a gentle smile on her face.

you go in, toeing your shoes off at the door. Sophie leads you to their living room where Parker, Hardison, Eliot, Breanna and Harry are sitting.

they greet you enthusiastically and warmly when they notice you’ve joined them, complimenting your baking skills.

you laugh. “i was worried i wouldn’t meet your standards but im glad you like them.”

Hardison and Eliot wrangle the plate from Parker to offer you one, you take a cookie, and Breanna quickly steals the plate next.

you end up sitting next to Harry, who sends you a soft smile.

(you don’t catch they teasing looks the others send Harry afterwards.)

you get to witness them acting like the family they are, banter, affection, food fights and all, laughing with them until your sides hurt.

(and if Harry’s eyes lingered a bit too long on your form when you weren’t looking, well… no one needed to know.)

(and if he was noticed by his family teammates, … well then they’d do the only thing to do, tease him about it and urge him to ask you out.)

(and if after you left, the teasing got worse, well, Harry’d leave the apartment to get out of range of their lighthearted barbs.)

(and if instead of going outside like he’d said he was going to, he ended up across the hall and got up the courage to knock, well then you’d open it and invite him in with a smile.)

(and if you two talked for hours before realizing how late it was, no one was there to call you out.)

(and if when he finally left, he asked you out on a date for later that week… well, you would’ve said yes.)

but even if that doesn't happen, you have fun.

~~~

thanks for reading!! feel free to rb and leave nice comments <3

#leverage fanfiction #writings by oak #gender neutral reader #leverage ot3: hitter hacker thief #leverage x reader #eliot spencer fanfiction #parker fanfiction #alec hardison fanfiction #breanna casey fanfiction #harry wilson fanfiction #sophie devereaux fanfiction #x reader #x gn reader #harry wilson/reader

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01rocketboy01 · 2 months ago

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I need to write for Leverage because I can’t take the lack of fanfics anymore it’s gonna drive me insane so if anyone has any ideas let me know

#leverage #leverage x gn reader #nate ford #sophie devereaux #parker leverage #alec hardison #eliot spencer #breanna casey #harry wilson #leverage redemption

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klaus-littlestwolf · 2 months ago

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Eliot Spencer Moodboard

Eliot Spencer in Love

(Leverage Moodboard)

#Eliot Spencer #eliot spencer x oc #eliot spencer x reader #eliot spencer imagine #leverage #leverage moodboard #leverage reboot #leverage redemption #moodboard #Eliot moodboard #Eliot Spencer Moodboard

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fablesrose · 4 months ago

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Ch 23 - The Double Blind Job

Series Rewrite Masterlist

Pairing: Eliot Spencer x Ford!Reader

Description: A job in the pharmaceutical industry hits a little too close to home as a dangerous drug is about to hit the market.

Words: 7.8k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey, Eliot and I are walking past the pub heading to that cafe a couple blocks down, you wanna come?” Hardison asked when I picked up the phone.

I looked down at the outfit I was wearing and figured it was clean looking enough to step outside into public in, “sure, see you in a minute.”

When I got down to the street, Eliot and Hardison were just walking up. It looked like Eliot had a similar idea to me, riding the line of comfy and presentable. Hardison looked a little more dressed up with a scarf.

“What are you, a hipster in Portland?” I asked when I saw his outfit.

“That’s what I said,” Eliot huffed.

“I just have style,” Hardison said, “It’s not my fault you look like a bum next to me.”

“Hey!” Eliot and I said at the same time.

Hardison quickly corrected himself, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. Y/n, you look nice.”

I laughed at the clear exclusion and Eliot punching him in the arm.

“Ow!”

They started bickering, so before it could escalate, I wedged myself between them, putting them on either side of me and wrapped my arms around them, forcing them to continue to walk towards the cafe. “Come on, boys, I think we all need a little treat this morning.”

The rest of the walk went by without much incident. Once we got to the cafe Eliot opened the door, Hardison went in ahead of me and as I passed Eliot, he placed his hand on my lower back as he followed me into the building. He kept his hand there, though it was almost hovering, as Hardison ordered in front of us. I ordered, and when I had finally pulled out my wallet to pay, the cashier was already handing a receipt to Eliot. I looked between the receipt and Eliot, finally pulling it out of his hand to see that it had my drink and his on it.

“Eliot,” I almost whined.

“Yes, sweetheart?” He looked at me innocently, a smile on his face.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I insisted, feeling my face warm from the moniker.

His smile widened, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He then handed me my drink from where the barista had slid it over the counter to us. He then turned to add sugar and cream to his coffee before we joined Hardison who was standing away from the counter with a pastry.

“Thank you,” I whispered, taking a sip before we reached him.

Eliot just hummed.

“We staying or going?” I asked once we all stood together.

“We can head back, there’s something I want to check,” Hardison said, “but I’m almost done, let me just finish this.”

I watched as he took two more bites, finishing the pastry before throwing away the wrapper.

“Already?” I asked, “Do you not savor anything?” I took a gulp of my drink, feeling like I needed to catch up.

“Not today,” he replied, “It was too good to wait.” He took a napkin and wiped his face before tossing that too, “alright, ready to go?”

I looked at Eliot who rolled his eyes as he took a drink.

“I mean, I guess,” I said.

“Cool.”

Hardison led the way with Eliot and I right behind him when as we stepped onto the sidewalk, a woman ran into Harison, who then bumped into me. My drink spilled all over me and Eliot who stood beside me.

“Sorry,” I winced, and then turned to see who had bumped into us.

“FBI, sir,” two men came running up to us, flashing a badge that didn’t look right. “That young lady is in our custody,” he said, pointing at the woman who had run into us and Hardison was currently holding.

Hardison laughed, “Oh, you made two mistakes, bruv… First, you flashed that fake-ass FBI badge at me. Second, you spilled her drink.” Hardison then pointed at me and Eliot, who was looking over the damage. Eliot then tossed what was remaining of his coffee behind him and ran to beat up the two fake agents.

The three of us: Hardison, this mystery woman, and I, all watched as Eliot beat them to a pulp before joining us to head back to the pub. The woman told us along the way that her name was Ashley and that she was just sitting there at a different cafe down the block when a man approached her, offering information about the drug trial her sister was part of. The drug trial that led to her sister’s death. When she had turned her back to take a call, he had disappeared, but she noticed those two men watching her across the street. When she had tried to walk away they had started to chase her down, and that's when she ran into us. Super suspicious, sounded like our kind of thing.

“Alright, I’m gonna go change,” I said once we reached the pub.

“I’m gonna head home and change, too,” Eliot said, looking over his stained shirt, not only from my drink, but from the fake agents too.

“Sounds good, see you in a bit,” I told him as he walked down the street to where I assumed he had parked.

“Why don’t you go into the pub, I’ll go tell Nate to meet you down there,” I told Hardison.

“Can you tell him to bring my laptop down too?” he asked as he descended the stairs with Ashley.

“Sure.”

I did as we discussed, telling Nate to get downstairs with the laptop, and then went to change. I decided after I stripped down that I still felt gross, so I took a quick shower before putting on the clean clothes. They were a little nicer than my previous ones, figuring that if this was indeed a job, that I might need to look more publicly presentable.

When I had gotten myself all straightened out Hardison called to confirm my suspicions. Eliot was going to come pick me up to head over to Dr. Robert’s house. Apparently this was the man that Ashley had spoken to at the cafe.

“Hey sweetheart,” Eliot said as I hopped in his truck.

“Hey,” I mirrored, noticing that he had dressed up a little bit too. “Nice gloves,” were the only thing I commented on.

He smiled a bit as we drove, his grip on the wheel tightening though the leather gloves he was now wearing.

We pulled up to the address Hardison sent us and walked up to the Doctor’s apartment. Eliot knocked on the door while I called his name. We waited for a moment to listen for any movement inside, but it was quiet. Eliot tried the handle and it didn’t budge.

“Door’s locked and no one’s answering,” he said.

“Alright, see if you can break in, but be subtle,” Nate answered through comms.

Eliot and I exchanged a look.

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered before kicking the door in with one blow.

“Real subtle,” I teased.

“You didn’t seem to have any ideas,” Eliot defended as we walked into the room. “Did you have a lock pick set on you?”

“Don’t tell Parker,” I replied, pretty much confirming that I didn’t.

Eliot called Dr. Robert’s name again while we walked further into the room. When there wasn’t an answer, I walked up to the table and picked up a set of keys.

“Does Dr. Robert’s drive a BMW?” I asked, looking at the key fob.

“Pretty small apartment for one of those,” Eliot commented, looking around the room further.

“He doesn’t drive a BMW, he drives a moped,” Hardison answered.

I hummed, thinking, and examined the key fob further. There was a seam in an odd place for just a decorative item. After some fiddling, it parted into two pieces, showing one side was a cap.

“It’s a flash drive,” I said.

“Plug it into Eliot’s phone,” Hardison said.

I momentarily wondered why my phone wouldn’t work, but didn’t vocally express it. Eliot tossed his phone to me from across the room. I fumbled it for a moment before catching it into my chest. I finally plugged the drive into the port, “is it working?”

“Okay, according to these files Dr. Roberts was meeting with, uh, Darren Hoffman,” Hardison said. “Now Hoffman was trying to buy something from him for… Two hundred thousand dollars.”

“Sounds like a bribe,” Nate said.

“To buy his silence maybe,” I added.

“There’s nothing in his account that shows up that big,” Hardison countered, “if it was a bribe, he didn’t take it.”

“We’ve gotta figure out who this Hoffman guy is,” Nate said.

I took the opportunity to slide Eliot’s phone, still plugged into the drive into my pocket so I could continue to explore the apartment.

Hardison pulled up information on Hoffman. He was the CEO of PallaGen labs, who bought the company that was doing Ashley’s sister’s drug trial. Hoffman was a career executive, jumping from CEO position to CEO position with little to no background in any of the fields he was the executive for.

I was about to turn a corner in the apartment when Eliot called out.

“I found Dr. Roberts. Y/n, don’t come in here.”

I paused. “Is he dead?”

“Yeah.”

“Is he gruesomely dead?”

Eliot paused for a couple of seconds. “No.”

I walked into the room to see the doctor curled up on the couch, looking pale and almost peaceful, but very dead.

“They made it look like a heart attack,” he said.

“What do you mean, made it look?” Nate asked.

Eliot started examining the body, starting at the face, “Well, there’s nine places that a professional will use to deliver an injection.” He had to pry the doctor’s arm up from his chest and pry his fingers up from their clenched position. “They went under the fingernail.” Eliot let the arm go to settle back to its original position, “your Dr. Roberts was murdered.”

I sighed, looking at the body, not sure how to feel. It’s not the first dead body I’ve seen, but the others were nothing like this. I could feel Eliot’s eyes on me, evaluating me. He seemed to determine that I wasn’t going to start crying or puke, so continued to survey the room, checking the doctor’s pockets and drawers for anything useful.

Sophie and Parker then joined the conversation saying that they had found the people Nate had sent them looking for, Parker listing off a substantial list of names.

“Okay, who have you talked to so far?” Nate asked.

“Well, that’s not really an option,” Sophie replied. “They’re all dead.”

That made Eliot pause again as the air started to feel heavier. It’s not everyday or every job where we have had evidence of the widespread impact of our marks, with a solid paper trail of just how many have already died. Usually its financial, or reputational ruin, or one or two deaths with the potential to save many more. I can’t remember a job that started with a death count this high.

This job wasn’t going to be a fix-it job. This was going to be an avengement.

Eliot and I did a little more searching of the apartment, but didn’t find anything else. I confirmed that Hardison had everything from the flashdrive before pulling it out of my pocket. I wiped off any fingerprints I may have left on it with my shirt and left the key ring on the table where I found it. I silently handed Eliot his phone back as he escorted me out of the apartment, his hand hovering on my lower back, much like it was this morning. It didn’t feel like the same day, though.

Eliot pulled the front door closed, making sure it didn’t swing open freely, even though he broke it down. We then walked silently back to his truck where the drive back to the pub was also silent. We seemed to wordlessly agree that we could pick this all back up tomorrow. It was probably for my sake. The more I thought about it, it probably didn’t bother Eliot as much as it did me. I couldn’t pin point quite what I was feeling, which made it that much harder to process.

I told Nate and Sophie I was turning in for the night, the both of them were staying up for a little while to do some research and planning.

I kept turning the day over in my mind. What triggered the feeling? Why is it lingering so much? Is it just the death, or the fact that a medical company is doing it? Maybe both. Eventually I digested it enough to fall asleep.

I woke up the next morning still in a bit of a funk, but feeling a lot better than the day before. I headed down to the poker room where Hardison had set up. Nate, Ashley, Hardison, and Parker were already there.

“How’re you feeling?” Nate asked once I walked in.

“Not quite myself,” I answered honestly. “But I can do whatever you need.”

Nate hummed, looking over some paperwork, “Just relax for now, I’ll let you know if we need an extra man on this one.”

I nodded, somewhat relieved, and sat at the table.

Nate and Hardison started explaining the plan. Parker was going to break into Hoffman’s office to find out what Dr. Roberts had on him. Her cover was going to be a pharmaceutical rep in training, previously a cheerleader and runner up beauty queen, to fit in with the other reps.

“Beauty queen?” Parker asked skeptically.

“Oh yeah, nice touch right?” Hardison said. “That was Ashley’s idea.” Hardison smiled, giving Ashley a fist bump while handing over Parker’s name badge which she took tersely.

Nate moved onto Sophie’s part, getting close to Hoffman so he would go to her when we rattle his cage and scare him. In order for that to happen with Hoffman’s busy schedule with a new drug launch, we had to steal an appointment with a Jennifer Pearson, an FDA rep.

“I’m sorry,” Ashley interjected, “how will you keep the real Jennifer Pearson from showing up?”

Nate looked at me for a hard moment, thinking, before replying, “Eliot can do that.”

Hardison called Eliot to give him a head start on getting ready and Parker pulled me aside while he was distracted.

“I need you to do something for me,” Parker said seriously.

I blinked, “Okay?”

“I need you to keep an eye on her,” she said with a sharp tilt of her head to point at Ashley.

I glanced at Ashley who was smiling at Hardison, “What am I watching for?”

“I don’t know, anything suspicious!” she whispered. “Please?”

I looked between the three of them: Hardison, Ashley, and Parker, starting to get a sneaking suspicion of what was going on here. I felt a smile twitch at my lips, “Maybe specifically between Ashley and Hardison?”

Parker’s jaw clenched and she didn’t meet my eyes.

I let myself smile softly before placing my hand on her shoulder, sympathy coursing through me. I knew the feeling. “Yeah, I can do that.”

Parker finally met my eyes again. Her body seemed to relax just a hair before she nodded at me in thanks and left to get ready herself.

Then it was just a waiting game for a little while. Waiting for Parker’s check in time, for Sophie’s stolen appointment time, for the real Ms. Pearson to show up. Hardison did a little bit of prep work, but most of the time was filled with talking. Between Ashley and Hardison specifically. Nate was mostly staring at the screens and some paperwork, lost in his own head. Ashley and Hardison pulled me into the conversation a time or two, but stayed mostly focused on each other. I had to give it to Parker, they were being a little friendlier than I would like if I was in her shoes. Which I guess I have been a couple of times. I think she was handling it relatively well.

Which, I did try to help her out, every time they started to go down a rabbit hole and start talking to each other closer and closer, I would gently try to add something to the conversation, making sure they were still in the real world and maybe not so close together. To their credit, it didn’t seem to bother them too much, so I didn’t feel bad being a horrible wingman for Hardison. Ya know, the whole “gals before pals” routine.

And then, just like that it was rapid fire of our team heading into the belly of the beast: Pallagen. First, Parker checked in with her pharmaceutical rep team. Then Eliot was there to intercept Ms. Pearson, offering to show her around to keep her busy. Sophie then swooped in to take her appointment with Hoffman.

We had the comms tuned to Sophie’s conversation. She had an air of flirtation, catching Hoffman’s attention.

“I’m sorry, I’ve just heard so many amazing things about this company, and… and the man that runs it,” she said once introductions were made.

“Well, you know… Can’t believe everything you hear,” he replied in cool humility.

“I’m sure in this case, I can,” Sophie doubled down. “I know that you must be very busy, but I was hoping you might show me around.” She placed down a file with a smack that we could hear through the comms, it must be the paperwork the real Ms. Pearson came to sign. “I have to discuss the possibility of doing some consulting for you.”

“I’d be honored.”

“Consulting is code for bribe,” Nate explained simply.

The three of us turned to look at him.

“Yeah, doctors who review drugs for the FDA are allowed by law to take consulting fees from the drug companies,” Nate continued.

I wasn’t super familiar with the practice, but I had heard of it. Hardison seemed to know more about it as he added onto Nate’s explanation to Ashley, who seemed the most in the dark. “See, it’s fifty thousand to each doctor on the FDA panel; two hundred thousand to the director of the New York Medical School to speak at the Pain Awareness Institute; and then twenty-five thousand to each celebrity who attends the annual dinner at the institute.”

“That’s a lot of money,” I said, mostly to myself.

“What’s the Pain Awareness Institute?” Ashley asked.

“It’s a foundation founded by Hoffman and PallaGen to, uh, legally funnel bribes,” Nate answered.

“This is legal?” Ashley asked in disbelief.

“Unfortunately,” I answered.

“We’re in the wrong business, man,” Hardison smiled at Nate and then me.

I cracked a smile and a huff at the joke, but Nate didn’t acknowledge it, moving on with the con.

“Parker, Sophie’s cleaning out Hoffman. Get in position.”

Sophie gave an all clear, meaning Hoffman was out of his office and she had planted a device on his digital door lock to keep it open. We then proceeded to listen as Parker used her awkwardness to her advantage for a full minute (though I’m sure it felt like a lot longer to everyone else) to get out of a sales role play exercise.

Once she got into Hoffman’s office, she sent Hardison all of the files on Hoffman’s computer.

“Locked file on a locked workstation,” Hardison said, picking out the file almost instantly. “I smell secrets… Oh, 256-bit A.E.S. encryption? Adorable.”

The file opened up with ease with multiple documents popping up on the screens.

“Wait, hold on,” Nate said, pointing at one document in particular, “this right here, make that bigger.”

Hardison obliged, blowing up a page that showed the chemical composition of Vioplex, the new drug Hoffman was launching. Nate sorted through some pages on the table until he pulled another chemical composition diagram. He walked up to the big screen, comparing the two diagrams.

“It’s identical,” he concluded.

“It’s HT1,” Ashley said, “I’ve spent three years learning everything I could about the drug that killed my sister. That is HT1.”

“Okay, so I thought Roberts made a connection between HT1 and Hoffman, but no, it's between HT1 and Vioplex,” Nate said. “So Hoffman is going to release HT1 as Vioplex… And a lot of people are going to die.”

The weight I had been feeling since yesterday just became even heavier on my chest. Now there was even more at risk.

Ashley did some more studying of the chemical compounds of the two drugs, telling us that they were the same drug, but Vioplex had a few time released protein inhibitors that would hide the symptoms and delay liver failure from months to years.

“No, he can’t get away with this, no,” Hardison said after Nate looked over all of Hoffman’s bribes in order to push this drug through.

“Listen, the FDA gets five hundred thousand complaints every year about bad side effects. By the time anybody figures out what’s going on, Hoffman will be long gone to his next CEO gig,” Nate explained.

“So he’ll never be held accountable for the people he killed,” Ashley concluded.

“That’s right, we need physical evidence that HT1 and Vioplex are the same thing,” Nate said. “We need the HT1 vials.”

“You think they still have them?” Ashley asked.

“Does any company or person over thirty five you know not have tax and other quote on quote ‘important’ documents on hand dating five to ten years back?” I asked rhetorically.

Ashley blinked at me.

I looked at Hardison in disbelief, hoping that he would agree with me. He gave me a pained frown and a nod telling me that he got me.

“Yeah, drug companies keep samples of everything,” Nate answered her more directly.

“They’ve still got vials of smallpox in over a dozen countries,” Hardison added.

“Do I wanna know what countries?” Ashley asked.

Hardison and I both shook our heads no.

What this all meant though, was that our con just got more complicated. Nate instructed Parker to try and find anything on where the vials were stored and Eliot had to keep Ms. Pearson around until we could get her the HT1 vials.

“Dude, she’s on a flight in two hours,” Eliot whispered, emphasizing the conflict of the situation.

“Well, do not let her get on the plane,” Nate replied while exiting the poker room to get a drink at the bar.

As I contemplated how he would do that, Eliot already got to work in making it happen. His tone when talking to her softened and lowered in a way that made goosebumps slightly raise on my arms and neck. He suggested she stay for a while, to not only tour PallaGen, but the city with him as well. I could hear her contained giddiness through the comms of changing her flight plans in order to oblige him.

It was only when Parker said that she found a safe and was scoffing at his easy password that I noticed that my hands were clenched hard enough to leave deep indents into my palms from my nails, my hands slightly discolored from the change in blood flow. I stretched my hands, trying to get myself to relax and distract myself from Eliot flirting with the FDA rep.

I noticed Hardison staring at my hands, seeing the indents and discoloration. “What?” I demanded, a little harsher than intended.

“Nothin’” Hardison snapped back with raised eyebrows and pursed lips, turning his gaze back to his computer.

I caught his lips start to creep into a smirk, so I tried to glare at him to knock it off, but it didn’t work. I tried to let it go and focus on something else, anything else. Unluckily, that something came when after using her phone to scan some documents she found, Parker was at risk of being caught when a security alert was sending guards to Hoffman’s office. Hardison told her to get out.

“No no no, Parker, you don’t get out,” Nate denied. “You stay right where you are until we get what we need.”

Hardison and I shared a look. What was he doing?

“How much time do I have? Sixty seconds?” Parker guessed.

“No,” Hardison replied, looking at his watch and getting up from the table, heading to the bar where Nate was, “fourty, uh, thirty-five, now twenty.”

“Now you have nineteen, you’re gonna stay where you are,” Nate said.

I followed Hardison out of the room to talk to Nate.

“No, Nate, look,” Hardison began, “security is literally seconds away from Hoffman’s office.”

“We need those vials,” Nate insisted.

“But we also need Parker,” Hardison answered.

While I was anxious about Parker, the feeling softened, hearing that from Hardison. I already knew she didn’t have anything to worry about with him, but hearing this just made it that much clearer to me, just the way he emphasized it, it was beyond just a teammate worrying about another member.

The anxiousness fully left when Parker told us she was done a moment later, escaping the office before security could arrive.

Nate’s smug and self assured expression at her answer caused me to purse my lips. This was toeing the line more than I would like. Even from Nate. Even for me, who has a higher tolerance for his bullshit than almost anyone.

I wasn’t sure how to articulate this to him right then, though. I just had to stew over it while Sophie finished up her meeting with Hoffman, Parker made her way back from PallaGen, and Eliot continued to entertain the FDA rep. Luckily with the latter, I didn’t have to listen to it once Sophie and Parker were out. His part was the equivalent to background noise of the con.

I was heading back up to Nate’s apartment at the end of the day to unwind with the others a bit when Sophie came nearly stomping into the pub. She had a fury on her face that told me that she was going to give Nate a talking to. That took a bit of pressure off of me to do it, though I knew I probably should still address it, Sophie could probably do it better and get through to him more than I could. As much as he loves and respects me, knows I am capable, I know that sometimes, I’m still just his little niece. A little girl that he needs to take care of, that he knows what’s best for her.

It’s kind of funny actually. Both of us knew that he had no idea what he was doing back then, but he tried his best. He still has the underlying feeling that he knows what’s best though. Maybe that contradiction is just something that comes with being a parent, or in this case guardian. Or maybe it’s not that one could feel that they know best, but that they know better, so for now it is the best for the child.

I guess it’s no good speculating. I won’t know for sure until I have kids of my own. If I have kids of my own.

I sat down across from Hardison after entering Nate’s apartment. It wasn’t long before Eliot strolled in.

This was the first time I had seen today, and boy, I wish I hadn’t seen him at all. He was in a suit, but no tie. Instead, his white shirt had two buttons tastefully undone. His hair was silky and voluminous as ever. Now I had to imagine him spending the whole day looking like that with the FDA rep. My jaw clenched as I tried to smile and greet him.

He sat at the head of the table between Hardison and I. He didn’t say anything as he lowered his head to the table, resting it on his crossed arms.

“Little Jennifer Pearson’s wearing you out, ain’t she,” Hardison teased with a smile.

“Dude, we walked the freedom trail twice,” Eliot answered without lifting his head.

“Nice,” Hardison grinned, assuming the innuendo, which I also assumed, causing even my practiced and poised tight smile to falter. I didn’t want to think about that, let alone hear about it directly from him.

Eliot slowly lifted his head, “No, man. The actual freedom trail.”

Hardison’s smile started to falter.

“We took paddle boats to the public garden, shopped on Newbury Street. I went to something called the Boston Duck Tour,” Eliot’s answer became slowly more exasperated, showing his displeasure and exhaustion.

I hated to take pleasure in his lack of, but I couldn’t help the bittersweet feeling coming over me. I would have liked doing all of those things with him, so hearing that he didn’t like it caused me to shrink a bit. On the other hand, I had to bite the inside of my lip to keep from breaking into an inappropriately wide smile, because at least he didn’t enjoy it with her.

Man, I’m turning into a monster.

I cautiously reached over and rested my hand on his arm, squeezing it comfortingly, “I’m sorry Eliot.”

He shifted his focus to me and his face softened a touch, “Thanks, sweetheart.”

Nate then walked in with a quick stride, without Sophie I noted, and sat at his desk to continue working.

“Yo, the information I got from Hoffman’s office confirms that he’s still got vials of HT1 in PallaGen storage,” Hardison told him. “Thing is, the vials are stored in a case amongst hundreds of other cases in one of ten storage facilities. Now, if I do my math, that means this case was —”

Eliot banged his head on the table, “It’s gonna be hard to find!”

“I believe I was making that point,” Hardison said almost sarcastically after a pause.

“Well, we are going to get Hoffman to lead us to the vials,” Nate answered coolly. “We’ll use Sophie’s friendship with him to get information, then I’ll enter the game to push.”

Eliot lifted his head with a cautiously thoughtful expression, “You realize the last guy that pushed Hoffman ended up dead?”

“Yeah, well, let him take his best shot,” Nate replied. “We’ll see who walks away this time.”

I felt my eye start to twitch at his attitude. I didn’t notice that I had started to grip Eliot’s arm, probably painfully, until he put his hand on top of mine. I instantly snapped my attention to him, relinquishing my grip on him, but he kept his hand on top of mine, giving it a squeeze.

The three of us then exchanged a skeptical look.

“Prison’s changed him,” Hardison said.

“Better or worse?” Eliot asked.

“Haven’t decided yet,” I answered.

On that note, we, with the exception of Nate, decided to call it a night.

The next day, Sophie went to meet Hoffman over drinks to further discuss her consultation. Hoffman pretty much confessed to everything we assumed of him. People were going to die from Vioplex, and he didn’t care. He wanted Sophie to push the complaints to the bottom and once the deaths become a problem, they’ll send out an apology and pay the fines that would be a small fraction of the profits.

Strangely, even though Hoffman was a dirtbag of one of the worst varieties, he still had enough chivalry to give Sophie his jacket when she expressed she was cold. Maybe that was some of her flirting and subliminal messaging though. She slipped away to take a phone call, giving Nate and opening the scare Hoffman a little bit.

Nate blackmailed Hoffman, saying that not only did he know that Vioplex is HT1, but that he had proof, namely the vials that we needed to steal. Nate asked for five million dollars in exchange for his silence. Nate rattled him enough that Hoffman couldn’t wait to go check on them. He quickly excused himself from Sophie and retrieved his jacket from her, where she placed a button cam on so we could spy.

The button cam was high definition and included GPS so we could track his path. We watched as he went to a particular facility and walked the halls to a particular storage room. He typed in the code in full view of the camera, so I chose to write it down, just to help keep track of it, along with the case number once he reached it.

“Thank you Mr. Hoffman,” Nate said, watching the screen.

“Now, Parker, look,” Hardison instructed before sending her off to get them, “we have the location, alright? Got the access codes, and we have the case number; all you have to do is go pick the lock on the cage. Now, I’m gonna compare Hoffman’s path to yours and, uh, lead you to the right room.” He handed her a button cam of her own so we could watch which she attached to her leather jacket.

“Good luck,” Ashley wished with a smile.

Parker lifted her head to look at her with poorly concealed disdain, “Luck? Do I look like I need luck?”

I placed myself in front of Parker, breaking her line of sight on Ashley, “hey, I’ve got it,” I reminded her in a whisper.

That seemed to stop her for a second enough for Hardison to reassure her, “whoa whoa whoa, she just meant like, you know…” he smiled and gave her a thumbs up.

Nate chose to send her on her way to change the situation. He handed her the trick case that she was going to switch the vials into, “go do your magic.”

Parker took it with the same expression, but left the poker room without further argument.

Sophie let us know when she got into PallaGen and quickly told us that Hoffman was up to something. “Hardison, are we tracking his phone?”

“I’ve got a signal, I just don’t have a connection point,” he replied.

Nate’s phone started ringing on the table next to me. I picked it up, looking at the screen to see that it was Hoffman calling, and handed it to Nate.

“And now I have my connection point,” Hardison quipped.

We listened to the short conversation between Nate and Hoffman that, in summary, consisted of Hoffman agreeing to the deal, but wanting to do it in person instead of just wiring him the money. Nate agreed before either of us could tell him no, convincingly at least.

“‘You’ll be there,’” Hardison mimicked, “Nate, it’s a trap. What are you–”

“Do you wanna end up like Dr. Roberts?” Sophie asked. “All Hoffman has to do is send his goons out into the crowd to brush past you with a syringe.”

“She’s right, this is a suicide mission,” Hardison agreed.

“Alright, listen, listen,” Nate interrupted, “If I don’t do it, it’s gonna tip Hoffman off and this whole thing will fall apart. So, I guess the rest of you are just gonna have to get it done before they manage to kill me.”

Through this whole exchange I couldn’t bring myself to say anything. I was angry, scared, and overwhelmed. With how nonchalant he was in his last statement, a surge of energy boiled over and I burst from my seat, rounding the table to stand in front of him, blocking his way.

“That’s bullshit!” I yelled. I wanted to say something else, but nothing came out. Instead I found my hand raising to slap him, but it paused about halfway to his face. It stopped and I clenched it to a fist and just shook it at him before hitting it to his chest. Through this Nate’s expression didn’t change, he just looked at me in his arrogant way when he doesn’t really care what happens. The outburst suddenly drained all my energy and resistance in an instant. I was finally able to whisper, “don’t let them take you away from me too.”

I thought I saw his expression soften, just for a moment before he kissed me on the forehead, whispering something into my hair that included “birdy,” but I couldn’t make out the rest of it. And then just like that, the moment was over and he was back to how he was, confidently sidestepping me and walking out of the room.

I grabbed the closest chair and slumped into it, the lack of adrenaline now draining on my body and emotions. Hardison hesitantly patted me on the shoulder before returning to his computer.

“You okay, sweetheart?” Eliot asked through comms on his way to PallaGen to entertain Ms. Pearson for a little longer and hopefully keep Nate from being killed.

I hummed, pausing before actually answering, “Ask me again when this job is over.”

Everything was quiet until Nate showed up to PallaGen.

“I’m in. Does anyone see anything suspicious?” he asked.

“No, but that’s kind of the point,” Eliot replied. “They’re gonna try to blend in. Look for guys that have a couple inches on everybody else here, and hands in their pocket. Shoes that lace up a little too high. Security guys always wear shoes they can run in.”

“Noted,” I commented.

“Narrows it down,” Nate fired back.

Ms. Pearson’s voice came through the comms, asking if Eliot was even listening to her. Eliot agreed distractedly, but couldn’t really respond.

“You know, I’ve dated a lot of you drug company guys,” she said, “you’re all the same. You’re nice, you’re handsome, and married to the job. Look, I’ve really enjoyed our time together. I’m just looking for someone who’s a little less settled.”

Eliot tried to stutter out a rebuttal.

“It’s not a criticism,” she assured. “You are a great guy. I’m just not looking for someone who sits behind a desk all day. I want someone who travels the world and takes risks, somebody a little more dangerous.”

“Right,” Eliot hesitantly responded.

Eliot chuckled and ensured she would wait to sign the paperwork with Hoffman until after the launch. She agreed that they could hang out for a little while.

“You alright Eliot? You need time to shake it off?” Nate asked bluntly.

“Shut up!” Eliot replied. “Let’s get this show over with.”

“You know? Respect,” I said. “Upfront, knows what she wants. I like it. It kind of compliments your grifting skills Eliot.”

Hardison gave me a side eye when I said upfront, to which I told him to shut up.

“Hardison, how are we doing on the vials?” Nate asked.

The route to the vial’s and Parker’s location, marked as a red dot was on the screen, Ashley and Hardison were watching it standing close to the screen. I chose to stay in my seat to try and give myself room to breathe.

“Parker’s two minutes out,” Hardison replied.

Parker’s dot deviated from the route, taking a wrong turn.

“Wait, wait, stop,” Hardison said. “Parker, you’re going the wrong way, turn around.”

She silently did as she was asked.

“Alright, now take a right,” Hardison told her. “There’s a security camera over your right shoulder.”

“Got it,” she responded. There were a couple of beats of silence as she maneuvered around it before she asked for the code to the door.

Hardison and Ashley looked at each other, asking the same question before scrambling back over to me at the table to find it. I sighed and pulled out my note where I had written it down.

“Parker, it’s five one one nine nine three,” I told her.

“I’m in,” she replied a second later.

I looked over to Hardison and Ashley who were staring at me, paused midway through shuffling through papers and scanning the video tape of Hoffman.

“What?” I asked. They didn’t answer, so I lifted my note that I had the code written on and waved it a little, “contingencies.” I turned back to watch the screen and Parker’s progress.

I heard Hardison mumble a bit clunkily, “you are your… uncle’s niece?” Clearly altering the saying of ‘you are your father’s daughter’ as he worked on his laptop making sure the motion sensors were disabled for Parker

I hummed in response.

Parker was able to get in and switch out the cases, putting the vials in a trick case that can make it seem like the vials are there or missing from the case, depending on when and how you open it.

“Done,” Parker said once she had exited the cage, but not the room.

“Alright, good,” Hardison replied. “Turning on the motion sensors… now.”

There was a moment where nothing happened.

“Parker, come on,” I said.

She sighed. There was another pause before she spoke. “I triggered the motion sensors. The HT1 vials are in the cage. How long until security’s here?”

“Fifteen seconds,” Hardison replied.

“Plus or minus?”

“Plus or minus none. Get out of there now.”

With a little bit of finangling with the guards, she was able to get clear.

Then it was time for Nate to at least try to get out before things got messy. Unfortunately that wasn’t in the cards with Hoffman’s goons grabbing him and bringing Nate to his office.

“So glad you could join us,” Hoffmann said.

Nate chuckled humorlessly, “What’s going on?”

“The deal’s changed.”

“Look, I don’t understand,” Nate stuttered in reply, “I thought a businessman like you would know how to keep a deal.”

“We had a deal when you said you had the vials, but you were bluffing. Nice, getting me to lead you to the storage facility. Too bad the hack you hired to steal the cases got caught.”

“Mm, she didn’t get caught.”

“She left empty handed,” Hoffman shot back. There was a pause before he continued, “See? Now I have the vials, and I have you. I think we need a new deal.” He then told his goons to wait outside and guard the door.

Eliot quickly made his way to the office and took care of the guards, making sure the door was clear.

“As far as I’m concerned, the old deal still works,” Nate said. “You give me the money, and no one finds out that Vioplex is identical to HT1, right? Okay, alright, listen… I’ll lower the price for you: two million dollars.”

“Still negotiating, huh? Well, I gotta admire your persistence.”

“Well, you know, the truth’s gonna come out once people start dying.”

“Well, sure, but by then, Vioplex will have made this company billions of dollars, and I’ll have turned that success into a penthouse office in a fortune five hundred. I think I’ll try oil next,” Hoffman replied, showing that Nate knew his corrupt CEO types well.

Sophie, at this point, went and approached Ms. Pearson at the launch party, introducing herself as Hoffman’s assistant, saying that he was ready for her to sign the paperwork, sending her up on her way to the office.

“It’s a great idea, great plan,” Nate conceded. “There’s just one little snag.”

“What’s that?”

“We stole the vials.”

“Then what’s this?”

“That’s an empty box. Yeah. We have the via- well, we had the vials.”

“You ‘had’ the vials? Where are they now?”

“Well, now, they’re in the champagne that you’re… drinking.”

Hoffman didn’t reply, there was a clacking noise coming through the comms of him opening the trick case to see it was empty with a little note saying ‘cheers.’

“Now, I got to tell you, it was a pretty concentrated dose,” Nate told him, “so, your liver will fail in the next few hours. Two days tops. You should be experiencing nausea, followed by this intense, profound, uh, fatigue, loss of appetite-”

“Now stop it!” Hoffman stopped him. “I know you couldn’t have drugged the champagne. I’ve been watching you since you’ve got here.”

“Well, I’m not working alone, so…”

Ms. Pearson entered the office, introducing herself, and told Hoffman that his assistant sent her up when he expressed confusion. Hoffman insisted that he had already met the FDA rep, and so Nate reminded him that he wasn’t working alone, revealing that Sophie was in on it.

Hoffman stormed out of the office with a ‘no!’ Ms. Pearson, understandably, asked what was going on, so Nate told her to follow Hoffman, that he would explain everything, handing her the case to keep with her.

Hardison hacked into the security system so we could watch the chaos unfold. Hoffman went around yelling about the champagne being poisoned, smashing glasses out of people’s hands. Hardison put the chemical compositions of HT1 and Vioplex next to each other on the screens, showing that they were the same. All of the shareholders were in shock and Ms. Pearson put the pieces together quickly. Hoffman insisted that we had stolen the vials, and so Ms. Pearson opened the case to show that they were still there. Now she had the vials to do testing with. The press surrounded Hoffman, asking questions.

“Fifty high profile doctors, two dozen medical journalists, and an FDA rep,” Sophie said once she met up with Nate.

“That should do it,” Nate replied.

“You do realize that that stunt you pulled defines ‘out of control,’” Sophie said.

“I just wanted you to see that I would never put any of you at risk if I wasn’t willing to take the same chances myself.”

“I love that you think that’s comforting.”

“Let me just pose a question,” I said. “Would you have made the same calls if I were in there?”

There was silence on the other end of the comms.

“That’s what I thought.” I pulled out my com and started helping Hardison clean up.

They made their way back to the pub. Parker pulled me aside again where I assured her that Ashley was fine, and nothing weird or inappropriate happened between her and Hardison. Despite this, she still looked a little uneasy.

Hardison sat down with Ashley to give her some financial compensation and a new quest of finding all the people that were impacted by HT1. Parker continued to stare them down, so I turned to Sophie who was sitting next to her and told her that it was her turn with Parker. Sophie gave me a perplexed look but I didn’t elaborate as I left the pub.

Eliot was waiting for me on the way to my apartment.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asked again, referring to earlier in the job.

I sighed, a lot of the anxiety of the job leaving, “Yeah, I think I’ll sleep for a couple of days though.”

Eliot nodded.

“Thanks for looking out for Nate.”

“That’s my job,” he replied simply.

“I still appreciate it,” I reiterated.

We stood looking at each other for a moment before I turned and finished the short journey to my apartment. I followed through and almost immediately fell asleep, the lack of adrenaline and anxiety exhausting.

A/n: Reblogs and comments are welcome and encouraged! Thank you for reading!

Tags: @instantdinosaurtidalwave @kniselle @technikerin23 @kiwikitty13 @plasticbottleholder @wh1sp @who-actually-cares-anymore @romanreignsluver1 @fictional-hooman @nothingryuu @onomatopoetic101999

#eliot spencer x reader #eliot spencer #leverage #rewrite #slow burn #multichapter #nate ford #sophie devereaux #alec hardison #parker #ford!reader

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security-chief-odo · 1 year ago

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The Fake Dating Job - Chapter 4

Elliot Spencer x Reader

Previous chapters: 1 2 3

Note: Thanks for your patience. My life has been crazy as of late. In exchange for bearing with me, I offer you, probably my favorite chapter so far of any of my fics.

Word count: ~3.7k

Description: You and Eliot pine for each other throughout the reception. Will your ex get in the way of your happiness?

• • •

After the ceremony, you and the rest of the bridal party are asked to hang back for photos. As the rest of the guests file into the reception hall for the cocktail hour, Eliot makes a brief detour to give you a peck on the cheek. “See you inside sweetheart.” he says softly before rejoining the rest of the guests.

Your mind occasionally wandered to Eliot throughout the photo process, whereas his mind never left you from the moment that he left the bridal suite this morning. You looked gorgeous in the dress your sister had picked out for you. Maybe he could blame the dress for why he spent more time focused on you than on the actual wedding.

Though that is the beauty of this whole plan, there would be nobody to explain it to as he was supposed to want to stare at you. There would be no moment where Hardison calls him out for staring at you for a little too long. There would be no explaining, rather lying, to Parker about how protective he gets over you on a mission. There would be no knowing look across the room from Nate or well meaning advice from Sophie. There would be nothing but his own thoughts and delusions that you would ever want him to be more than just your fake boyfriend.

When the bridal party finally makes their entrance into the reception hall, his eyes are searching for you. Despite how happy you are for your sister, a feeling of relief nearly consumes you once you find yourself by Eliot’s side once again. Though, as you make your way to the table, your relief falters slightly at the realization of who you’ll be seated near. Your ex is seated at the same table as you, only two seats away.

Eliot’s warm embrace calms you though. This is what he was here for ultimately, to be a barrier between you and your ex. To make the night go better for you. And in a small way, he was already doing just that.

After the couple shares their first dance, dinner is served. You desperately try to avoid giving your ex any attention, and Eliot makes that easy. He eats slowly, taking time between bites to shower you with little bits of affection. His hand rests on your thigh through much of the meal and you hope that the flush that crosses your cheeks isn’t too obvious in the dim lighting. You could get used to these casual touches, if only they weren’t for show.

“How’d you like the food?” you ask, hoping that a bit of small talk can keep your wishful thoughts at bay.

“It was alright.”

That response alone was very telling so you quietly finish the sentence he was too polite to complete. “But you could’ve done better?” You raise your eyebrow at him as he half nods.

“I’m just sayin’ I know what these wedding caterers charge and they should take a bit more pride in their work.”

You can’t help, but chuckle at this as the DJ announces the father daughter dance. You turn your chair towards the dance floor to watch your father and sister share this moment and Elliot does the same beside you. He wraps his arm around you and pulls you closer to him. You can’t help but lean into the touch. You probably don’t need to do as much as you are to sell the act, but damn it, if this is your only opportunity to be this close with Eliot, maybe relishing in it a little isn’t a bad thing.

After the dance, cake is served and this time Eliot has no complaints. The cake is as close to perfect as any cake could be. As you finish, you remind yourself to ask your sister where she got the cake from so you could maybe stop by the bakery on your own before you leave town.

As the dance floor opens up, you take this opportunity to go talk to your parents. You haven’t had enough time with them this weekend and you really have missed them. Ever the gentleman, Eliot insists on tagging along to properly meet them. He is far too good at this fake boyfriend thing.

You greet your parents with a warm hug. “I’ve missed you guys!” you say trying to be heard over the music. “It’s been too long.”

“And whose fault is that?” your dad asks.

Your mom nudges him and gives a disapproving glare at his bluntness. “You should visit more. Maybe then it wouldn’t have taken so long for you to introduce us to this handsome fella.”

“I’ve been telling her the same thing.” Eliot steps in with the charm offensive in full force. “I’m Eliot.” He shakes each of your parent’s hands. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“All bad things I suppose?” your mom asks teasingly.

“Hardly. She’s told me so many fun stories about your family. Though maybe a few of those stories could be classified as embarrassing.”

It’s nice to see your parents get along with Eliot, though it shouldn’t matter to you. You will have a fake breakup in a few weeks and this will be nothing but a memory for both of you. A damn good one too.

You’re broken out of that train of thought when you hear your mom reply, “Oh, is that so?”

“She’s got plenty of embarrassing stories of her own.” your dad adds in. Eliot lets out a hearty laugh at the prospect.

“Oh? Any worth telling?” You bury your face in your hands in fear of the mortifying words that may come next from either of your parents.

“How about you buy me a drink and I’ll tell you anything you wanna know about our dear Y/N?” Your mom suggests.

“Gladly” Eliot guides your mom to the bar and out of your earshot as you sit with your father.

You sit in silence at first, just enjoying the shared time. Minutes pass before your father speaks again, without even looking directly at you, “He’s good for you, you know.”

You figure the best way to avoid being caught in a lie is to just stay as close to the truth as possible, so you tell your dad your real thoughts on Eliot. “I know, he’s a really nice guy. He’s funny and caring. I really love him.”

“That’s not what I mean.” He turns to fully face you. “I just haven’t seen you this happy in some time.”

“Oh.” you say, stunned. This statement catches you off guard but luckily your father continues, so you don’t have to fill the silence.

“You seemed so sad before, especially with James. You used to force those tight lipped smiles that you thought we didn’t notice. This new guy has brought back your infectious smile. The one you don’t even seem to notice, you just do it.” He pauses slightly, “I missed that smile.”

This conversation comes to an end as your mom and Eliot return laughing loudly. Once he approaches the table, he stops in front of you. “Care for a dance?” He offers you his hand.

You gladly accept and follow him out onto this dance floor.You dance through several upbeat songs, joking and laughing at each other’s goofy dance moves throughout. For a moment, you forget how painful going back to normal life may be because having this much fun with Eliot reminds you how important your friendship is. The heartbreak could never break this bond. The bitterness of pining could never overpower the sweetness of these moments you share.

He spins you around and holds you close to him, your back to his chest. As you sway together to the music Eliot whispers in your ear, “You know, your mom told me some interesting things about you.”

“Oh god. What did she say?” You brace yourself for whatever ungodly stories from your youth your mom may have dug up for this occasion.

“Nothing too bad. I actually thought it was cute.” You turn in his arms to face him and raise your eyebrow as if to ask him to elaborate. “First she told me about the time you cut your own hair.”

You let out a chuckle, mostly in relief at how benign of a story that was. “I can still remember the terrible bangs I had in my school pictures that year. It felt like it took forever for those to grow out.”

“So is that why you convinced your sister to do the same just two years later?” He looks at you accusatorily and you know that your mom had to have given him more ammunition if he’s already digging in on the teasing.

You raise your hands defensively, “I just handed her the scissors and told her I thought she’d look cute with bangs. What she did after that is not my business.”

You wrap your arms around Eliot as you continue to dance as you bicker. “Oh I’m sure it was all her own idea.” His smile only widens as he continues, “She also showed me this picture of you as a kid where you were laying face first into your plate of mashed potatoes. It was cute. You’re still pretty cute when you get all sleepy like that.”

This catches you off guard because it’s just one more moment that’s a step past friendly without any reason for it. Nobody could really overhear your conversation over the music. He said that just for your benefit, or maybe just to sell the act. Maybe in a different life Eliot could have been an actor, he certainly played the part of lovestruck boyfriend pretty convincingly.

Trying not to focus much more on his words, lest their implications consume you, you add, “Did she tell you how I used to fall asleep at my bedtime so religiously I would sleep sitting up at family gatherings or in the cart at the grocery store?” He shook his head in response. “Yeah I wish I was still that committed to my sleep schedule.”

“Well ain’t that the truth sweetheart.” There’s a softness about him that is so rare and nearly indescribable. It’s a nearly magnetic force and you find it impossible to look away from him. It feels like if you even glance away for a second, the levity will be gone and the weight of the world will once again return to rest on his shoulders.

Soon you have to shift your focus as the DJ announces the bouquet toss. The men clear off the dance floor as all of the unmarried women gather. Sure, it doesn’t really mean anything if you catch the bouquet, but you find yourself reaching for it nonetheless. Maybe it was fate or maybe just luck or maybe it was set up by your sister considering her earlier remarks, but regardless the bouquet is in your hand and you’re staring down at it in shock.

Your sister hugs you and you know it’s going to break her heart when you and Eliot “split up.” Though by now, you’re too deep into it and so you have to act excited about this turn of events. A small part of you is excited though, the part that has clung onto every romantic moment this weekend as if it’s more than a fantasy. Perhaps that part isn’t so small.

On the side of the dancefloor the excitement over your purely hypothetical future builds in Eliot too. Fuck it. He won’t have many more chances to do this. He makes his way across the floor to you and happily pulls you to him, first in a tight hug, then into a lingering kiss. One that he has to hope you can’t just feel the sincerity of his desire dripping from.

You could get used to being kissed like this. Though, as your family is currently about half of the room, you pull away from Eliot, you can’t convince yourself to go very far away. Your foreheads rest against each other and the tension is palpable. Damn. He really is committed to convincing your family. He would have you convinced if you hadn’t been the one to set up this whole ruse.

Around you the dance floor fills again as the DJ turns on a slow song. You and Eliot hold each other close as you dance. Eliot softly sings along in your ear. His soothing voice slowly erases every worry you’ve had about this night. You feel safe and at home in his arms, and even if it won’t last, you can’t help sinking further against him. Truly if your heart must be broken, there’s nobody you would trust more to break it kindly.

You and Eliot are lost to the world around you as you both relish in what little time you have left to hold each other. That momentary bliss comes to an abrupt halt as the song fades out and you notice a presence looming just behind you. Just then you hear James’ voice behind you as his hand touches your back, sending a chill down your spine at your own unease. Speaking to Eliot he asks, “May I have her for this next one?”

Something seems off to him, but you reassure Eliot that it’s fine with a polite nod. There’s a sinking feeling in his chest, of course this was never real so he should have been prepared for rejection, but it still stings seeing you in someone else’s arms. Maybe that’s why you invited him, not to avoid your asshole ex, but to make James jealous.

Eliot goes to the bar to drown in something other than his own self pity and insecurities, and is met with your mother inviting him to sit next to her. Despite his own feelings, he won’t ruin things with your family so he orders a drink and sits at the open stool she has offered him.

“You’re good for her, you know?”

“I try to be.”

“I mean it. She’s happier with you than she has been in a long time. She still thinks she doesn’t deserve you though.” your mom looks at him with a sad sort of smile.

“What?” he asks incredulously.

“She’s always been a worrier. You can see it in the way she holds you,” she pauses in thought before correcting herself, “in the way you hold each other. You’re both so scared the other will leave. You don’t think you deserve her either, do you?”

It’s a relief in a way to be able to be truly honest for once this weekend. “No ma’am. I can’t say I do. I’m happy to have her until she realizes that though, and that’s enough for now.” He waves to the bartender and orders a second drink.

“You’re both idiots, I swear.” Your mother lets out a long sigh. “Do you treat my daughter with kindness?”

Suddenly, under your mom’s gaze Eliot feels like he’s sitting in the principal’s office facing detention. He feels small. “Of course.”

“And you love her?”

“Yes.”

“So are you saying Y/N doesn’t deserve your kindness and love?”

“No ma’am.”

“Then pull your head out of your ass and stop acting like she’s going to leave you. That girl loves you, anyone could see that, so why are you sitting here with me at the bar, drowning your sorrows?”

He hangs his head in defeat, he couldn’t argue the point of your affections, not without ruining your plan, so he settles on the easier argument. “She already has a dance partner.” He gestures to the dance floor.

Your mom finally glances over to you and rolls her eyes. “God I’ve always hated that son of a bitch.”

Eliot can’t help the deep belly laugh that escapes him. Your mom cursing in anger is funny when it’s not directed at him. It’s then when you turn to where he can see your face, your features lined with sadness. His protective instincts finally kick in and he heads your way. He tries to hang back to get the full scope of the situation.

As Eliot was at the bar, your ex had been saying truly awful things. As Eliot reapproached, he continued. “He’s gonna leave you, you know?”

Eliot couldn’t make out any of what was being said, but he knew from the tension in your body that you weren’t happy. He’s kicking himself now for letting his own insecurities put you in the exact kind of situation he was here to help you avoid.

Not wanting to cause a scene, you plaster a fake smile on your face and through gritted teeth say “I fail to see how that’s any of your fucking business James.”

“I’m just looking out for you, babe.”

“Don’t call me that” you cut him off.

He continues, not acknowledging what you said. “I may have moved on, but I still care about you. You don’t deserve to be hurt when he finds a prettier girl and runs away with her.”

“Fuck off, James.” Eliot isn’t going to stay with you, but that doesn’t mean you need to tolerate James’ bullshit. You pull yourself out of his hold but he follows behind you.

Eliot quickly approaches as he sees this and is in earshot finally for the last insult James throws out. “You know, I don’t know why you bothered catching that bouquet. Nobody is ever going to love you, much less marry you.”

In an instant, James is grabbed from behind, turned, and pinned against the nearby wall. You barely hear the commotion behind you as you exit the reception hall and finally let a tear run down your face.

Inside all eyes are on Eliot and your family has gathered as he begins yelling at James, “What’s your fucking problem, man?”

All too cocky, James smirks, “Here to ask if you can have my current girlfriend when we break up? You clearly love my leftovers.”

That earns him a broken nose. Eliot’s fist makes sharp contact with his face and the blood from his nose quickly stains his white shirt. “You need to shut the fuck up and leave Y/N the fuck alone, or you’ll find out just how quickly I can break another bone.”

Ever the idiot James opens his mouth to reply, but, before he can, your sister yells at him, “Better yet, get the fuck out of my wedding.”

With the bride’s blessing, Eliot and your father drag James out to his car and, seeing he’s been beat, or perhaps fearing being beaten again, he leaves without another word.

He sees you sitting on a bench outside the reception hall and breaks into a jog, wanting to comfort you. He holds you to his chest as you gently sob. As much as you didn’t like that James was saying it, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was right, but you let that insecurity burrow further inside your heart as you realize something far worse. You probably just ruined your sister’s wedding.

You sit up abruptly and wipe the tears from your face, “I need to go apologize to my sister.” You run inside, leaving Eliot to slowly follow, though he washes your ex’s blood off of his hand before re-entering the reception hall.

Your eyes scan the room and finally land on your sister. The anxiety makes the words practically spill out of your mouth, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to cause a scene at your wedding. I know I can’t make it better, but I’m sorry for ruining your night.”

Both of you are crying now. “You didn’t ruin anything. I shouldn’t have let him come, even if he was dating one of the other bridesmaids. If anything you fixed the wedding by getting rid of that piece of shit.”

“Well I’m pretty sure the getting rid of him part was more Eliot than it was me.” you chuckle. He walks up behind you, as if summoned by the mention of his name.

He looks toward your sister and her now husband as he wraps his hand around yours. “I am so sorry for,” he pauses and gestures vaguely towards the spot he had pinned James, “well, all of that really.”

Your sister laughs, “No need. We’ll just call it dinner and a show, and it was quite the show.” she leans in towards you both and in a far more serious tone adds “I heard from some of the others what he was saying before. You did the right thing, you could’ve gone a bit further to teach him a lesson if you ask me.”

He looks to you, now remembering that your ex had plenty of time in his absence to say far worse than what Eliot heard. “Wish I would’ve.” he lets out a nervous laugh, still unsure where he stands with everyone else. “I’m just glad he’s gone though and can’t cause any more trouble.”

Your sister replies, “Agreed. Though maybe try not to hit anyone at the next wedding?”

“I think I can manage that.” He smiles, glad to see that everyone is still in good spirits.

The groom, also seeming to relax, throws in, “You’d better because if those flowers are anything to go by, it’ll be your own.”

Eliot wraps his arms around you, and with more sincerity than you were prepared for says, “Hopefully.”

Trying so hard not to get lost in your imaginary future with Eliot, you change the topic. “Your wedding was really beautiful by the way. Congratulations.” You hug your sister. As you pull away, you lean back against Eliot and say. “I think it’s time for us to go back to the hotel though. I think we’ve created enough of a story tonight.”

“Of course,” she agrees. “Have a good night. Thank you both for coming.” Then as you walk away, your sister calls after you, loud enough for about half the room to hear, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, lovebirds.”

This leads to a few hoots and hollers from the other guests, just trying to tease and embarrass you further. You flip your sister off as Eliot guides you out of the room.

• • •

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