#pretzels leverage

[aardvaark]

parker telling hardison "you realise this isn’t going to be normal, right?" when their relationship is beginning, and him confirming that it works perfectly fine for him… the way she has to check, and the way he so quickly soothes any worries <33

[echofades]

PARKER & HARDISON - Leverage: Redemption | 2.01 - 2.03

[werewolfsmile]

Was anyone gonna tell me that I can get Leverage shipping content from the supermarket, or did I just have to wait till my sister came home with these???!??

[suddenrundown]

[my-beloved-lakes]

Wow I didn't know Rolled Gold sold Parker x Hardison merch!

[littlebigmouse]

People calling the leverage ot3 "beer and pretzels" - I see you, but I need you to understand you're one more word association away from calling the ship "Oktoberfest" and I cannot

[lindseymcdonaldseyelashes]

Hardison x Parker is a psyop by Big Pretzel

[sailforvalinor]

“Well, they’re right here. When you want them.”

I NEED TO LIE DOWN

[somanypetals]

Nancy/Ace + Parker/Hardison 🎵 I love you exactly how you are 💞🔎🥨

These four are very deeply tethered in my heart, and once I started noticing how much all my favourite aspects of both these ships mirrored each other I just couldn’t stop noticing parallels everywhere!

[evergreen-endo]

takiishi with the deep strokes vs endo jackhammering with u on top. who wins

[aardvaark]

i think it’s noteworthy that parker finds a way, multiple times, to pretend to be with hardison in a con. she kisses him in the first david job, she pretends she’s meeting him to have sex in the wedding job, they pretend they’re getting a marriage visa in the zanzibar marketplace job, and they act like they’ve been making out in the jailhouse job. and i can’t think of a time that she’s done that with any of the others?? tell me if im wrong but i don’t think she’s fake-made-out with anyone else, at least.

i mean, parker stabs or breaks the fingers of guys who flirt with her or touch her. yet in the first david job she kisses hardison. in season one, when she’s still so resistant to touch and her heart is so guarded. its just for the con, of course. but a fake kiss, something she can easily write off - that’s all she can do at that stage. she can’t offer her heart, she won’t let herself get attached, and really it takes until the long way down job (ie season 4) for her to start accepting that she is capable of loving and being loved. in season 1, when she was entirely closed off, a fake kiss is all she can do with her feelings for hardison pretzels. she keeps taking the opportunity to kiss him or be together, without the consequence of Having To Talk About It and all the problems she knows would come with that. her method of coping with Emotions is to let herself get into a bunch of mini fake dating AUs with him lol.

i think its worth bringing up because ive mentioned how sweet hardison is with her, and we all talk about how much he cares for her and shows patience and understanding, but its certainly not one-sided! parker’s enamoured with him since pretty early on. her way of showing it is just different and somehow both far less and way more direct lol. they both put effort into figuring each other out and learning to be in a relationship, not to mention that trying to be capable of a healthy relationship with hardison is one of the biggest driving forces behind parker’s character growth. he’s so important to her (and they’re so important to me <3).

[iobartach]

👀 i've got an itch to do more fight / sparring type threads, particularly ones with a tiny bit of plotting / set-up ... y'all should c'mere and talk to me if interested in doing that--

[somethingserious]

we went from 

Parker saying “let’s see how hard you look” to 

Hardison saying “Parker, love of my life” with so much love and confidence in his eyes

[suddenrundown]

parker and hardison send tweet

[kermit-coded]

god. the way hardison walks parker through the steps in the queen's gambit job. the slow dancing. him humming the song while she's in the vault. peak romance.

[sorcererinthestars]

A Quiet Reassurance - Leverage OT3 (if you squint) aka, I wanted an Eliot focused fic for the quiet days WC: 854

It wasn't just that it was raining.

It was a mixture of those dark, cold days when the weather is just on the warm side of freezing but the atmospheric pressure is off, leaving you kind of feeling unbalanced. When the world feels heavier, the ground feels a bit closer, like you're being crushed by some force you hardly feel exists.

That's the day when Eliot's bones ache; the wounds his body has taken over the years get to remind him that he's not invincible. The ache that goes so far deep its almost one with him, a heat in some way that goes all the way down to his toes.

He hurts. Over his life, he's fought. He's bled, he's been beaten with every weapon known to man. He's been clubbed, slapped, punched, kicked. He's had his bones broken, he's been knocked down over and over again and always manages to haul himself back up, finish the fight, protect those who need protecting - no matter what side of the fight he was on. He was always able to keep going.

But mornings like this? Every scar, every phantom pain flares back up to haunt him, to the point where he doesn't even think he can haul himself out of bed to get to the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee (or god, a beer) and hunch over the table like he's aged sixty years. It's hard not to curse the weather - a fucking bullet can't stop him, can't bring him down, but a stiff breeze and a change in pressure can lay him out harder than any knife.

He rolls over painfully, staring at the ceiling, and tries to do what he's learned helps. To - painfully! - tense each muscle to their breaking point before releasing it, that rush of endorphins enough to make him groan with the pain and intense pleasure of it. It's a personal ritual, one every fighter like him has to learn to go through. The aches were going to be there forever, even after he fucking finally quits and leaves this whole life behind.

His shoulders and back are the worst of it. He's used to doing this alone, rolling his shoulders and painfully clawing himself to a sitting position, grunting as the simple movement is almost too much, pain blooming from sleeping in one position too long.

Finally, he lets out a string of curses as he rolls his shoulder and the pain of an old bullet wound sends white hot heat rolling down his arms and his chest, the joint having seized and the movement tugs on all the wrong nerves. Gritting his teeth and riding the pain, he almost misses a soft hand on his shoulder.

Because... that's right.

He wasn't alone this time.

This time, there was another set of hands to gently, wordlessly, knead the pain out of his shoulders. A soft pair of thumbs carefully working through the knots of scar tissue that bound up across his skin. Painstakingly rubbing the pain and then the numbness out, leaving such sweet relief that he almost cries with it, head slumping down.

He doesn't even turn his head to look and see who's hands it is. He knows them enough by now; can tell just by the slightest touch. The ache remains in every part of his body, but the warmth that ignites in his stomach helps soothe it. The hands lay him back down, not letting him take advantage of some of the easing pain and head towards the kitchen for breakfast (as if nothing ever happened).

No, the hands seem to say. You're in pain and we're going to remedy this, you and I. Stay put, we'll work through this together.

So he lays back, on his stomach this time, as a warm body straddles him ever so lightly, hovering above as the talented hands take the time to work out every kink, every bit of soreness the weather brings on, up and down his arms, across his sensitive shoulders, down his back - riddled with scars, remnants of another time - and across his hips. Then even lower, his thighs, his calves, even his ankles. No part of him was spared from weapons over his rough life, and so the hands work every piece of it out.

He is left, twenty minutes or twenty hours later, a puddle. The pain is gone - for now, never forever, but for now, peace. The air seems warmer, almost, despite no one turning up the heat. The hands leave and they could almost groan, wanting them to return. But instead they're replaced by a soft kiss between the shoulder blades.

A promise, almost. You're not alone anymore. You don't have to face it alone anymore.

The hands slide off and the bed shifts as a warm body slides off and pads towards the door, slipping off to start the morning.

And he - alone again, but with the knowledge of love just one room away - closes his eyes and sleeps again. This time with a body free of pain and full of warmth.

Peace at last.