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deafeningnightcollection-things · 2 years

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The Hospital Job

Nathan Ford x Eliot Spencer

Beep.

The slow and steady sound should be a comfort because of what it means (Eliot is safe, he’s alive, they got to him in time). That is the logical conclusion, but contrary to most of the rest of his life, Nathan Ford finds it impossible to draw the logical conclusion here.

Eliot Spencer, who’s supposed to be all muscle and action, and quiet thoughtfulness, and few words, but he isn’t in motion now. He’s laying still on hospital bed, pale as death, the shallow rise and fall of his chest barely visible. The only sign of life in the room is the steady beat of the heart monitor.

Beep.

Every time he closes his eyes, Nate sees his mistakes, sees the steps he should’ve taken. They’re painfully obvious now, if only they had been mere hours previous.

The con should’ve been easy, get in, get out. Slip into some light method acting for 24 hours, and come out of the whole ordeal far richer than they had been previously. But then things had started going wrong, minor things Nate couldn’t anticipate but they kept stretching the con.

Nate leaned back in the chair, resisting the urge to get up and pace around the room, his throat burned for a drink. He hadn’t had a drink since this whole thing started and that was the problem.

Nate was shaking in his chair as he called out plays, the worst of the detox hadn’t hit yet, he could still do this and then, somehow, he’d find a drink.

“Sophie, go left, there’s a south facing door. Hardison shut off the security camera.” Nate’s eye flicked back and forth between blueprints of the building and the live security footage Hardison was feeding him.

“On it, boss.”

He traced the ventilation system with his finger. “Parker, behind you, there’s a vent. Follow it left, and then right. That should drop you exactly where you need to be.”

“Copy.”

“Tsk. Tsk.” Sterling sat on the desk next to Nate, “is this really the best use of your time, Nathan? They’ve all done this long before you stepped in to play mastermind.” Sterling held a shimmering glass of whiskey out towards him, “what makes you think they need you now?”

Nate swallowed thickly, he knew the glass wasn’t real, that this was only the cruel creations of his alcohol deprived mind, but he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out. He watched it slip through his hand, the sound of glass shattering on the ground echoing in his mind even as he stared at the clean floor.

“Parker could steal this blind folded. Hardison doesn’t need you to tell him what to hack. Sophie has been conning people since before you got into the game. Face it, Nate, what do you really bring to the table?”

“Nate, we’re blown. I got eight guys on my tail.” Eliot’s voice crackled to life through the comms.

Sterling smirked, leaning closer to Nate. “And dear sweet Eliot, the loyal dog, begging for affection at his master’s heel. He could get that from anyone, you aren’t special, Nate.”

“Enough!” Nate roared, throwing his phone at Sterling. It passed harmlessly through him smashing against the opposite wall with a crash. Sterling laughed in his face as he vanished.

“Nate?” Sophie’s voice was on the comms now, “what happened? Is everything alright?”

“Nate.” Eliot’s voice was overlapping with Sophie’s. “I need an exit, I can’t take all these guys.”

“Uh.” Nate tried to steady himself, the plan that had seemed so clear only a minute ago was slipping through his fingers. “We’re blown.” He repeated to himself, mentally sorting through his contingency plans. Surely there had been one for this scenario, there was always a plan.

“Nate!” Eliot hissed more urgently, “I’m running out of room here. I need an exit.”

Nate’s eye flicked back to the security camera feed. “Eliot, go left.” His eyes flew back to the blueprint, frantically scanning the ventilation system. “Parker, back up two turns then go left. The stairwell’s your exit. Hardison, get the van in gear and bring her around back, we’re gonna want to make a hasty retreat.”

“On it, boss.”

“Nate, you got me a dead end.”

Nate’s blood ran cold as Sterling laughter rang in his ears. “No, that can’t…” His voice trailed off as he looked at the blueprints. He’d been looking at the wrong floor.

“Forget it,” Eliot’s voice was little more than a growl. “I got this, just get everyone else out.”

“Like hell.” Nate barked back, “Parker, go up a floor. Do you still have the charges?”

“Oh yeah.” The blonde responded, sounding like Christmas had come early.

“You’re gonna set them up on the eastern wall. Hang on, Eliot, we’re gonna make you an exit.”

“Great.” The hitter’s tone dripped sarcasm as he grunted. “Take your time, I’m doin’ great.”

Nate focused on routing the team out of the building, refusing to listen to Eliot growing progressively more winded as he took hit after hit.

“Parker,” Nate called as a particularly violent shudder had him grasping the table for support, he couldn’t remember when he’d stood up. “Are you in position?”

“Almost.”

Eliot grunted again, as the team was treated to something that sounded sickeningly like bone crunching under a boot.

“Done.”

“Eliot, get away from the wall.” Nate ordered immediately.

The hitter huffed something that might’ve been a laugh under normal circumstances, “say it like it’s easy why don’t ya.”

Nate could only pray that he’d obeyed. “Parker, now!”

The explosion echoed in Parker and Eliot’s comms, like some sort of sick duet.

“Nate?” Sophie is kneeling in front of him in the hospital room. Her voice is gentle as she speaks, as though he may shatter if she’s too forceful. “Parker and Hardison went to get food. Do you need anything?”

Nate glanced at the bottle of whiskey that’s been next to him the entire time he’s been here. He’d tried to reach for a glass when this whole thing had started, and they’d been rushing Eliot to the hospital.

Parker, scarily calm in the driver’s seat, rushing through traffic like a madwoman, Hardison routing GPS navigation to the nearest hospital, and Sophie sitting next to him, offering what comfort he could.

He wasn’t entirely sure where the whiskey bottle had come from, it had been pressed into his hands sometime between the job and the hospital. He’d uncorked it with shaky hands, grateful for something to dull his senses.

“Nathan Ford, ever the useless drunk.”

Nate’s jaw clenched and he lowered the bottle.

“Oh no, don’t stop on my account. I’m just along for the show. Cheers, mate.” Sterling tipped his glass to Nate and tossed back the whole thing in one go.

Nate’s throat burned as he tilted the bottle absently in his hands, but as he glanced at Eliot, sprawled awkwardly across the seat next to him, he felt further removed from the burn. His hand trembled slightly as he closed the bottle and placed it on the seat next to him, but he forced it to still.

“Nate,” Sophie tried again to coax gently, “you can’t do anything for him here, maybe it would help if you left the room for a bit, took a walk, stretched your legs. I could sit—”

“You really, really want to help me?!” Nate was yelling now, he tried to reign himself in a little, but he also couldn’t find it in himself to really care about how loud he was being. “For the love of God, give me something to do. Please, just give me something to do.”

Sophie was quiet for a moment, Nate felt something small and worn pressed into his hands. When he glanced down, he was holding his notebook. The small leather cover worn from years of rough handling and abuse.

“Make a plan,” Sophie said gently. “Do what you’re good at.”

Nate gripped the notebook tightly, his gaze sliding back to the bed.

Sophie stood, making a show of brushing dust off her knees, even though the hospital was probably cleaner than their offices.

“Sophie,” she turned on her heel to face him, “tell Hardison to find the guys that did this.”

She glanced at the bed as well and nodded. “Of course.” And she was gone with a click of her heel on the tile floor.

Nate got up from the chair, moving to stand next to the bed. “Maybe I’m a bigger bastard sober than I am drunk, huh?” Eliot would’ve rolled his eyes at that, if he’d been awake Nate thought, a small reaction sure, but better than the lifeless inactivity that lay before him.

He turned the notebook over in his hands again and again. For the first time in his life, Nathan Ford had no plan.

“You need to wake up so you can punch me in the face for putting you in danger and I can apologize properly.” Nate wants to lean over the bed and shake him awake, do something to make him wake up faster. Anything would be better than sitting here, feeling useless.

“God damnit, Eliot!” Nate’s throat burned with something other than the desire for alcohol, his eyes felt wet, and there suddenly wasn’t enough air in the room. “You can’t leave us alone like this, I can’t do this without you!”

“Do people wake up faster when you yell at them?”

Nate jumped at Parker’s voice as she appeared next to him.

He forced his hands to stay steady, though he was sure Parker had already noticed the trembling. “No, no they don’t.” He smiled wanly, “it’s solely for the benefit of the people who are awake.”

“Are you mad at him cause you didn’t tell him you loved him?” Parker took a sip of her juice box, as though this was just a random day at the carnival, and she hadn’t just pulled the rug out from under him.

“P—Parker,” Nate spluttered, suddenly annoyed that he hadn’t taken that drink when he’d had the chance. But once he’d gotten over his initial shock, he knew there was no point in denying it. Parker could be mercilessly blunt, but she was rarely wrong, and she knew it. And denying it would only lengthen a conversation that he did not want to have in the first place. “There was never a good time.”

Parker shrugged, taking another sip of her juice. “He knows.”

Nate nearly dropped his notebook in shock, few people in his life managed to surprise him and Parker was most of them.

“He smiles more, after you stopped sleeping with Sophie and started sleeping with him. You’re good for each other.”

Parker finished her juice box and tossed it in the trash can behind her without looking. “Make sure he keeps smiling.” She marched out the door.

Something unclenched in his chest as he stared at Eliot once again. He leaned forward conspiratorially, even though Parker was presumably long gone, though you never knew with her. “She likes you, you know?”

“I get knocked out for a couple hours and you’re already spilling your deepest secrets to me, shoulda done this ages ago.” Eliot’s voice was rough from lack of water and his gaze is slightly hazy from the pain meds, but he was mercifully awake, and alive, whispered the voice in the back of his head that sounded like Sterling.

“Eliot.” Nate breathed, he moved next without conscious thought.

Eliot’s lips were surprisingly soft, though slightly dusty (soot, his mind supplied helpfully) and Nate jerked back quickly. Eliot blinked up at him slowly, the combination of the kiss and drugs frying his brain.

Nate couldn’t resist the soft smile that swept across his face before he could stop it.

“Nate.” Eliot smiled at him, one hand groping the air uncoordinatedly, searching for someone to hold. Nate slipped his hand into Eliot’s gently, just as the latter’s brow began to furrow. He relaxed immediately at the contact, allowing himself physical tells that he rarely showed unless they were in a safe private environment (the hospital qualified as neither).

“Get some sleep, Eliot.” Nate whispered gently as Eliot’s blinks grew slower and further between, the hitter still needed his rest.

“Wanted to say…” Eliot’s sentence faded into unintelligible mumbles as his grip on Nate’s hand went slack.

Nate dragged his free hand gently across Eliot’s face, tucking the loose hair behind his ears. Carefully, ever so carefully, he extricated his hand from Eliot’s. He lay the hitter’s hand gently back on the hospital bed and tucked the notebook into his coat pocket.

The burn in his throat was growing more insistent and now that he knew Eliot would be alright, the temptation of alcohol was too much to resist.

“That’s not going to get rid of me, you know.” Sterling commented as Nate took the first swig of whiskey. “As long as there are people like him, that you care about, who can be put in danger, I’m gonna be in the back of your head.”

Nate snorted, “I make a shitty bedfellow, just ask Sophie. Hell, ask Maggie.” He took another swallow, “Eliot’ll say the same thing soon enough.” He pulled the notebook out, “I’m no good to anyone, there’s a reason why you shouldn’t get involved with your team.”

Nate laughs lightly, but there’s no humor to it, it’s far too late to undo this thing with Eliot, and even if it weren’t, it would take a stronger man than him to do it. The hitter deserved better, Nate knew that, but in this little dance of theirs Eliot had chosen him, and that had to count for something.

Nate took a gulp of the bottle, shaking his head slightly to drown out the sound of Eliot’s bones cracking as it echoed in his ears. His hand clenched around the bottle, suddenly seized by the mad desire to drink it all in one go. He had done worse surely.

Beep.

The sound of the heart monitor gave him something to focus on besides, the crunching in his ears. The rhythmic sound was more comforting now that Eliot had awoken.

Beep.

Crunch.

Beep.

Crunch.

Beep. Crunch. Beep. Crunch.

The hospital room was suddenly too small, too hot. The whiskey burned in his stomach, threatening to come back up the same way it had gone down.

I need some air.

Nate stuffed the bottle into his jacket hastily and grabbed the notebook. He only paused a moment on the threshold to glance back at Eliot, the others would keep him safe. He had a feeling that Parker was watching even now. A flash of blonde hair at the window confirmed his theory.

Nathan Ford had forgotten the smell of dew at night. Back before he found more mundane things to worship than a god, he used to sit on the grass at night. Reading bible passages to himself and staring at the stars.

One of those loves stuck, the other did not.

To this day, he’s fascinated by the stars. From a scientific standpoint, he knew little about them, but from an astronomer’s perspective, he was rather well versed. He knew which stars appeared in each hemisphere over the course of the year, but most importantly he knew the stories behind each constellation.

Stories were important in his line of work (if you could call thievery work that is). People came to him with sad stories, screwed over by big corporations, and he did his best to write them a happy ending.

Nate’s thoughts shifted to Eliot, as they were want to do most days. He leaned back in the grass, stretching out his legs, and took a small sip of whiskey. Just enough to get that pleasant burn back in his throat.

Happy endings were the hardest to write, and the messiest to predict. Coming from the backgrounds that they did was no help. Nate wasn’t naïve, he had no misconceptions about what Eliot had done before Dubenich had assembled them all.

A string of deaths and missing persons had followed Eliot wherever he took a job, and yet, from the moment they met, the hitter had been gentle. His hands were covered in blood and yet, they were tender to a fault. From the awkward head pats (and later hugs) that he’d given Parker, to the affectionate clap on the back or shoulder squeeze he’d exchanged with Hardison from time to time.

There was affection everywhere he thought he was allowed to give it.

Nate forcibly kept himself off that list for as long as he could, trying to lead to the team dispassionately (unable to completely fall in with thieves). In hindsight, he’d been kidding himself, their ragtag little team had been a family, since they’d allowed themselves to trust each other on that first con.

Caring had been both quick and inevitable.

“Bit of a close call today, wasn’t it?” Sterling sat next to Nate on the grass.

Nate shrugged, he really wasn’t in the mood to hash this out with the hallucination again.

“You can tell Hardison to stop looking, my guys tracked them down. They should be sitting in a Parisian prison by noon tomorrow.”

Nate glanced to his left, brow furrowing. “You’re not a hallucination.”

Sterling smirked at him indulgently and inclined his head slightly in agreement. “Did you miss me, Nathan?”

“Believe me,” he said, raising the bottle to his lips. “If I didn’t have to see your face, I wouldn’t have.”

An emotion that might’ve been concern on a normal person flickered across Sterling’s face. He stood, brushing bits of wet grass off his pants.

“Sterling?”

“Hmm.”

“Thank you.”

Sterling was turned away from him, but Nate could imagine his smirk. “Just don’t go racking up too many favors you can’t pay off, eh Nathan?”

Nate toasted Sterling silently behind his back, bringing the bottle to his lips one last time. “You know me, Sterling. I play high stakes, or I don’t play at all.”

“The universe does have a way of bending to your insane machinations.” Sterling finished brushing himself off. “Do me a favor and tell that hitter of yours how you feel. I didn’t get his attackers arrested just for him to die of old age before you actually talk to him.”

Nate spluttered indignantly, “did Parker tell everyone about that?”

“Goodbye, Ford.”

Nate followed the sound of laughter into Eliot’s hospital room.

Parker was perched on the side of Eliot’s bed like a large blonde cat. She glanced up immediately as Nate entered the room, she always had a sixth sense for that sort of thing.

“Are you gonna kiss and make up now?” Parker asked.

“I think so.”

“Good.” She hopped off the bed in one fluid motion and skipped out the door without so much as a backward glance.

“There’s something not quite right with that girl.” Eliot murmured affectionately as she left.

“So,” Nate began, wishing he had more whiskey left, to help him say what needed to be said. “It needs to be said, after today. I’m stepping down from the team.”

“Nate.”

Nate held up a hand placatingly, “I was compromised while you all were in the field. That’s inexcusable.”

“That’s a load of crap. You were in withdrawal, cause of the job. You never woulda done that on purpose.”

“Eliot—” Nate tried.

“No. You don’t just get to step down because you had a bad day and it scared you!” Eliot shook his arm, as though looking for something to punch. “We all have bad days and we still come back to the team. We need each other. I need you!” Eliot’s shoulders slumped, “you don’t want to run the team, fine! But don’t give some excuse, call it what it is. You’re a coward.”

Nate isn’t scared anymore, he’s angry now. “You don’t get to call me that! You have no idea what it was like for the rest of us, sitting here, waiting for you to wake up.” He closed his eyes for a moment, praying for strength, “I can still hear your bones cracking…” Nate admitted softly, “if I hadn’t been out of it, you never would’ve gotten hurt. I can’t stop thinking about what might’ve happened if—” but Nate doesn’t even let himself finish the thought.

Eliot’s expression softened, “anyone ever told you, you think too much?”

Nate huffed out a watery laugh, “once or twice.”

“I love you.”

Eliot’s lips are just as soft the second time around, but firmer now that he’s more awake. Pushing into the kiss with a desperate force.

They need to talk, and soon, but there’ll be time for that later.

#Nathan ford x Eliot spencer #Eliot Spencer x Nathan ford #Nathan ford #Eliot spencer #Jim Sterling #Nathan Ford & Parker #Nathan Ford & Jim Sterling #sophie devereaux #parker #alec hardison #Leverage #Leverage TNT #The 12 Step Job

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