Leverage Secret Santa

Co-mod wanted.

daisiesdaily — Wed, 19 Sep 2012 20:00:41 GMT

Hello, everyone! I hope you all had a wonderful summer and caught the last season of Leverge! Good times, eh?

Anyway, the reason for this post is that I am in the need of a co-mod for leverage_sesa. I just don't have the time to dedicate to this community as I used to, so I know I'll need some help this time around.

If anyone is interested, drop a comment here, DM me... whatever way you can get a hold of me, let me know!

gift for scout_lover

whiskyinmind — Sat, 21 Jan 2012 21:46:57 GMT

For the wonderful scout_lover
I am so sorry this ended up being so late sweetheart!

I've created a couple of graphics for two of your fics and a special present under the cut

Sample:

And some icons to match in with them...

And for the surprise part...

Click on the image:

Obviously, it's not complete yet, because I kinda need your input to go ahead with it.

I hope you like it honey! Happy January! (And again, I am SO sorry it's so late!)

In From The Cold

yanzadracan — Sat, 14 Jan 2012 20:54:12 GMT

Title: In From The Cold
Author: YanzaDracan
Written For: Fangirl2323
Fandom: Leverage
Characters: Eliot; Nate
Word Count: 2,052
Rating: PG
Author’s Note: 2011 Leverage Secret Santa Exchange! fangirl2323, asked for most anything including vampires and werewolves.
Summary: Eliot has secrets, but then…he’s not the only one.

In From The Cold

Gift for murtaghs_rose

daisiesdaily — Mon, 09 Jan 2012 15:35:15 GMT

Posting this for inspired_looney... enjoy!

Title: Last Man Standing
Vidder: inspired_looney
For: murtaghs_rose
Characters: All about Eliot.
Spoilers: Up to and including S4 Ep16.
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.
Notes: I know you wanted Eliot/Sterling or Eliot/Nate ship but I'm not great at those, I hope this is okay.

Video here!

gift for lmx_v3point3

mizzy2k — Thu, 05 Jan 2012 13:59:58 GMT

Title: Nothin' But A Numbers Game
Author: mizzy2k
Written for: lmx_v3point3 for the 2011 Leverage Secret Santa
Rating: R
Characters: Nathan Ford/Eliot Spencer
Spoilers: All the way up to "The Experimental Job"
Warnings: Assassinations. Violence. Non-linear.
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.
Summary: This first one, he's a weedy shmuck in his late forties, skin taught and peeling. Eliot comes up from behind him, just enough in sight for the guy to see Eliot's eyes in the reflection of his window, and then Eliot snaps the guy's neck.
Notes: Thank you to whiskyinmind for the prompt.

Here!

That's (almost) all, folks!

daisiesdaily — Tue, 03 Jan 2012 16:42:58 GMT

I hope everyone had fun and enjoyed this run of the Leverage Secret Santa Exchange!

I am aware that there are a few gifts that haven't been posted yet, and those assignments are being sent out to pinch hitters to be finished hopefully soon. So if you haven't yet received your gift, fear not!

~~That being said, I need one or two pinch hitters who will/can write Eliot/Nathan pairing. Any takers?! :)~~

Thanks to everyone who participated in this run!

Happy Holidays, Ariestess!

tinylegacies — Sun, 01 Jan 2012 04:56:34 GMT

Title: The Grifter's Lament
Author: Jen - tinylegacies
Written For: ariestess
Fandom: Leverage
Pairing: Sophie/Tara
Rating: PG
Spoilers: through 4x13 - The Girls' Night Out Job
Notes: I'm sorry this is so late! Life has been a little nuts this month. Under the cut is a ficlet and some icons! I was going to also make you a journal header, but I wasn't sure what you'd like so please let me know!

The first time they cross paths, one is using the name Cynthia and the other is going by Dianne. They're after different targets in the same city (Rome? Venice? somewhere in Italy...) and they end up helping each other out. Afterwards, they stick with the pseudonyms but exchange stories and contact information over a glass of wine.

The second time they cross paths, they're working on the same target and using the names Katherine and Alyssa. They inadvertently combine forces and end up taking down the original target plus five of his closest friends. Over wine, they end up sharing the names Sophie and Tara with the understanding that those were not the names they were born with.

Over the years, they catch glimpses of each other in various cities. They have an implicit agreement to never work at cross purposes though they never quite end up working together either. They always have a glass of wine and share stories when they run into each other but their friendship doesn't go further than that until Sophie switches sides and starts the Robin Hood gig with Nathan Ford.

Tara didn't believe the rumors when she first heard them. There was no way that Sophie Devereaux had switched sides. Especially not to work with Nate Ford. However, she is concerned that Sophie seems to have fallen off the radar. When the dark-haired grifter calls and invites Tara to visit her in the South of France, she can't resist the invitation.

They're laying out by the pool in minuscule bikinis, enjoying champagne, when Tara finally asks. "What have you been up to these days, Soph? I've been hearing some rumors..."

Sophie props herself up on one elbow so she can look at Tara. "Oh, a little of this, a little of that. You know how interesting the life of a grifter can be."

The answer serves to further pique Tara's curiosity. They seldom share intricate details of their jobs, but she senses that Sophie is avoiding telling her something and she wonders if there is any truth to the rumors. "Rumor has it you're playing it straight these days."

"You can't believe everything you hear," Sophie replies.

Tara decides to drop the subject for the moment though she fully intends to bring it up again before she leaves. Unfortunately, Sophie gets wind of some exhibit opening in a Los Angeles museum and she cuts their visit short. Tara is tempted to follow her to the States to see what exactly she's after, but decides that would be over-stepping the bounds of their friendship.

When she answers the phone months later and hears Sophie sobbing on the other end, she immediately regrets not pushing for answers sooner. She flies to Paris to meet Sophie and gets the whole story of what her friend has been up to. She's pretty sure that the concept of Sophie being in love with Nate Ford is way more difficult to wrap her brain around than the idea of Sophie as a modern day Robin Hood. But regardless of how difficult it is to process, she can't say no when Sophie begs her to fly to Boston and help out the old crew while she's taking some time off to 'find herself'.

Tara is surprised by how much she enjoys working with Nate and the rest of the gang. It would be more fun if she hadn't promised not to sleep with Eliot, but it's still a lot more fun than she was expecting. At least until Nate falls off the wagon. She hesitates to tell Sophie at first, but then she realizes how out of control everything is and knows that she's not going to be able to fix it on her own.

She has never been so glad to see anyone as she was when Sophie showed up on that damn boat. They don't have a chance to talk before Tara disappears and Nate gets arrested. Tara is worried when Sophie falls off the radar again but she knows they will reconnect again soon enough. After all, when you're a grifter there are precious few people in the world who really know you.

Gift for nightcamedown

sheryden — Sun, 01 Jan 2012 01:44:36 GMT

Title: Just Fish
Author: sheryden
Written for: nightcamedown for leverage_sesa.
Characters: Eliot and Nate
Word Count: 1124
Spoilers: Slight spoilers for “The Carnival Job” and “The Experimental Job.”
Rating/Warnings: PG; none
Disclaimer: It they were mine, Eliot would be shirtless a lot, and I would be his love interest.
Summary: Eliot and Nate take a quiet fishing trip.
Author's Notes: This was originally going to be a team fishing trip, but Eliot and Nate didn't seem to want anyone else there. Hope you like it!

Gift for caitriona_3

fangirl2323 — Sat, 31 Dec 2011 23:41:43 GMT

Title: Thing That Bring Us Closer
Author: fangirl2323
Written for: caitriona_3, for the 2011 Leverage Secret Santa
Rating: G
Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Humor
Characters: Eliot and Parker, with Nate, Sophie and Hardison.
Note: I don’t own the characters they are the property of Dean Devlin and TNT. Just using them for fun. The fic is not beta’d, so any errors are completely mine.
Summary: What happens when a con goes bad and both Parker and Eliot are hurt?
Word Count: 3,061

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go down, Nate thought as he and Hardison watched flames engulf the building they had just exited. Firefighters were setting up to begin fighting the fire. Cops and ambulances were waiting out front, where Sophie was spinning a cover story for them.

“Nate, any sign of Eliot and Parker?” Sophie asked.

Nate stared at the monitors in the Hardison's van, eagerly hoping to see the hitter and thief coming out of the building. “No, nothing yet, Sophie.”

Fifteen minutes later, the ambulance was ready to leave. Sophie grabbed one of the medics. “You can’t go yet, there are … my friends are still in there.” She pleaded.

Looking at the burning building, then back at Sophie, the medic replied. “Ma’am if they are still in there, I don’t an ambulance will help.”

Sophie gasped. “No, no … you’re wrong. You’ll see.” She stammered.

“Hey!” someone yelled.

The medic turned his head towards the voice, “Yeah?”

“Got some movement over here, bring the gear!”

The medic left Sophie’s presence, his partner already unloading a cart, boards and supplies from the ambulance.

“Nate?” Sophie asked her voice shaky.

“Yes. It’s them. I can barely see Eliot for all the smoke. It appears he’s carrying Parker.”

“Thank God!” Sophie whispers.

+++++

The blonde’s head resting on his shoulder, her breaths against his throat was the only way Eliot knew that she still alive. His whole body wracked with pain, head pounding and barely breathing, he made it a few steps out of the building, then his knees gave out.

Medics appeared quickly, putting oxygen masks on both the hitter and the thief. With help from two firefighters Parker and Eliot were put onto a gurney. Dean was cleaning the blood off of Eliot when he moaned.

“Can you hear me?” He asked gently.

Eliot nodded as he blinked, trying to clear his vision.

“Can you tell me what happened?” The medic asked.

Eliot licked his dry lips and immediately a straw was pressed against them, he sipped water for a minute before speaking, his voice hoarse.

“Parker fell and got her leg trapped. I was working to get her out, when there was an explosion. Parts of the building came down on us. Took me a while to dig myself out, then a bit longer to find her and get her out.” Eliot explained.

“That’s fine. You don’t need to say anymore. She’s fine. Lost quite a bit of blood, some smoke inhalation and she broke that leg.” Dean told Eliot.

Eliot nodded, his own eyes getting heavy.

“Sir, you have smoke inhalation, some nasty gashes that will require stitches and your ribs are damaged. We are taking you both to Boston Medical. “

Eliot growled.

“I’m going with Eliot, Nate. I’ve told them that they are Alice and Eliot Ford.”

“Okay Sophie, we are a few minutes behind you.”

Nate and Hardison watched from the monitors in the van as the medics loaded Parker and Eliot into the ambulances and drove away.

++++

Sophie greeted them at the ER entrance to the hospital. “They had to take Eliot into surgery. Internal bleeding.” She told them as she handed Nate a cup of coffee.

“What about Parker?” Hardison asked.

“She’s fine. They moved across the hall where Eliot will be eventually.

They put a removable, Velcro cast on her leg. She has a nasty bump on her head, but only a slight concussion. The doctor told me that they want to keep her at least twenty-four hours.”

“Okay, okay. What can we do?”

“Not much, just wait for now.” Sophie replied.

Taking in Hardison’s pained expression, Nate turned and said, “Why don’t you tidy up the loose ends, then go grab some clothes for both of them. Maybe get a book or something from Eliot’s place for him since he’s going to be here a while.”

“You’ll call if there’s any change?” Hardison asked before leaving.

“We will. Call us when you’re headed back this way.”

++++

Two hours later they wheeled Eliot into a private room. Nate and Sophie watched quietly as a nurse hooked up an IV drip in his right arm, while another nurse hooked him up to a heart monitor. He had a bandage on his forehead and his right hand was bandaged.

“He should be coming around anytime now. He did well in surgery. The bleeding was stopped, but the doctor noticed some fluid in his lungs, so we’ve given him some antibiotics to help fight the infection. His leg will be sore from that bad gash, which was stitched. Once he is awake and able to move around, we want him to off of it as much as possible, which means trips to the bathroom only. That will help it heal faster. I’ve left a pitcher of ice for when he wakes. Would you have a couple of cots brought up?”

Looking at Nate, Sophie squeezed his arm reassuringly, “Yes, we would appreciate that. Can you tell me how Alice is doing?”

“She’s fine. Her vital signs are healthy and her breathing has improved. She is sleeping right now, but it’s been approved so that you can sleep there with her, if you would like to?”

When Sophie nodded, the nurse replied, “Good, I’ll have a cot brought to her room too.”

“How long is the doctor going to keep her?”

“He’ll probably release her late tomorrow. I’m not sure about Eliot though.” The nurse replied.

“Thank you for all of your help.” Sophie told the young lady.

“They shouldn’t have gotten hurt, Soph.” Nate said regretfully.

“Nate, it’s not your fault. Parker’s okay and Eliot will be just fine. No one will blame you. It was an accident, you know that, right?”

Nate sighed, “Yeah, I know. I also know that Eliot will blame himself and Parker is so worried about Eliot, which makes me uneasy.”

“She’ll be fine, once she knows that Eliot is on the mend. You sit here with Eliot and I’ll go sit with Parker, but first I’m going to get us something to eat. Why don’t have Hardison bring one of him games with him. That will keep Parker occupied.

++++

An hour and a half later, Hardison was playing on his Portable PlayStation when Parker woke up.

“Eliot, Eliot!” Parker cried out.

“Dang girl, don’t do that!” Hardison snapped as he almost jumped out of the chair, thus killing his character in the video game.

“You’re in the hospital. Eliot got you out of the building.” He tells Parker slowly.

Frowning, Parker snaps, “I know that! What about Eliot?”

“He’s gonna be okay, girl. Relax. Doctor checked on him about a half an hour ago. He said things were good. He’s stable and the antibiotics are working on his lung infection. He’s asleep.”

“I have to see him, Alec.” Parker said firmly as she sat up and began to get out of the bed.

Dropping his PlayStation on the bed, Hardison got up and went around the bed, “Wait, wait, you can’t, you are not supposed to get out of the bed except to go to the bathroom.” He insists.

Eyeing the crutches leaning up against the table next to her bed, Parker glares at Hardison, “If you don’t help me get out of this bed and to Eliot’s room, I am going to whack you my crutch!” She tells him hotly, tears threatening to run down her face.

“Aw. Don’t, don’t do that. Don’t cry.” Hardison sighs as helps her stand up and get her crutches under her arms. He follows her closely, opening the hospital room door and guiding her to Eliot’s room.

Nate’s eyes snapped opened upon hearing the door to Eliot’s room open. When he saw Hardison and Parker on crutches ambling inside, he frowned, tilting his head and quirking an eyebrow at the hacker who was motioning behind Parker that he had no choice. Nate nodded and got up out to the chair.

Once she was standing at the end of Eliot’s bed, Parker gasped. “Oh, God!” Her voice shaking, she looked over accusingly at Hardison. “You said he was okay. The, the tubes and all, he doesn’t look okay to me.”

“Parker, Eliot’s going to be back to normal soon. He just has to take it easy for at least four to six weeks.” Nate told her as he rubbed her back.

“He has an infection? That what Alec told me.” She asks quietly.

“Yes. When they went in to stop the internal bleeding they discovered fluid in his lungs. The doctor said that it was most likely due to the fact that his body was tired and worn down. It’s just a chest infection, Parker. His ribs are bruised, but that’s all. They wrapped his chest to help him heal faster.” Nate explained.

“Surgery!” Parker gasped loudly, glaring at Hardison. “You didn’t say anything about surgery.”

Both Nate and Parker turned to look at the hacker, just as an older nurse walked inside.

“Is everything alright in here? She asked. Seeing Parker standing at the end of the bed, the nurse frowned, “What are you doing in here? You’re not supposed to be out of the bed.” She admonished Parker.

“I had to see him. He’s my friend.” Parker explained.

“I understand dear, but he needs his rest and so do you. Trust me, the best thing you can do for him is to take care of yourself first. He’s going to have a bit of a recovery spell and he’ll need his friends to occupy him. Now, let’s get you back to your room, okay?”

Reluctantly Parker let the nurse take her back to her room and help her into bed. Before leaving, the nurse turned back to look at Parker. “This isn’t going to be a reoccurring thing is it?”

“What?” Parker asked.

“You sneaking into your friend’s room?” The nurse asked letting her mother tone come through.

Hardison groaned, hoping that Parker would say the right thing.

“Um, I don’t know. How long am I going to be here?” She asked the nurse.

“Most likely you will go home late tomorrow.”

“What about Eliot?”

“He’s going to be here for a bit, honey.” The nurse tells her.

“Then I’m staying too.” Parker says firmly.

The nurse shakes her head and closes the door behind her.

+++++

It was four o’clock by the time Dr. Willis entered Eliot’s room.

“Mr. Ford, everything looks good. I’m going to release Alice today. I want to see her back her in three weeks to check on that leg. Until then, I don’t want you walking around you’ve ripped the tendons and ligaments in your ankle. If you stay off of it and keep it elevated, you should recover in about six weeks. If you don’t follow orders it could take up to a year. Do you understand me?

Parker nodded her head. “Yes. How long is Eliot going to have to stay here?”

“The young man that was with you when you were admitted?”

Parker nodded her head again.

“He will be here at least another three days. We have to give the antibiotics time to work.” Dr. Willis replied.

Crossing her arm across her chest, Parker replied “I’m not leaving until Eliot is released.”

Nate and Hardison groaned. Stepping forward, Nate got into Parker’s space. Lowering his voice to the one he used to use on Sam. “Parker, you’re well. You can’t stay here, you have to go home. Now are going to go without a fuss or do we have to do this the hard way?”

“But, Nate … “Parker objected.

“No. You’re going home. Hardison will take you.” Nate said sternly

Not happy with the outcome, Parker mumbled, “Okay, dad.”

Hardison nodded in agreement. “Cheer up, girl. We can visit Eliot once he is not sleeping so much, right Nate?”

Nate started to say no, but instead he found himself agreeing. After signing the forms for Parker’s release and handing prescriptions to Hardison, Nate sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as he watched Parker being wheeled to the exit.

“Is she always like that?” A nurse asked with a chuckle.

“I feel like I am in charge of a zoo sometimes, I swear.” Nate replied before heading back to Eliot’s room to relieve Sophie.

++++

Eliot glared at Parker. This was the third day in a row that he had woken up to find her in his room. It was not that he minded having visitors, but listening to Parker read to him was not his idea of a good time. He had tried growling and threatening her, but she cheerfully ignored him and kept reading to him from the book he had been reading. Sighing, he slid down deeper into the bed, praying for sleep to take him.

A chuckle from the doorway made him pop one eye open.

“It ain’t funny Nate.” Eliot growled.

Nate replied, “Of course not, Eliot.” However he was still grinning and damn if that didn’t irritate Eliot too.

“Where’s Hardison?” Eliot asked, having decided he would rather play video games with the hacker than have Parker hovering over him like a hen.

“He and Sophie are running some errands, so I thought I would keep you company until the doctor comes by.” Nate replied cheerfully.

“Don’t gotta be so cheerful.” Eliot grumbled. Although he perked up when Nate turned the TV to ESPN and told Parker to go get something to eat.

“She’s driving me nuts, Nate.” Eliot whined.

Looking at Eliot, Nate had to stifle the grin that threatened to break out on his face. “She’s just trying to help.”

Eliot narrowed his eyes, but before he could say anything, Dr. Willis entered the room. She was looking over Eliot’s chart.

“Everything looks good. How are you feeling, Mr. Ford?”

“I’m fine.” Eliot replied.

“No headaches?”

Eliot shook his head.

“Your lungs appear to have cleared up, but I am going to give you a prescription for another of antibiotics. I want you to finish the prescription. Now, how is your leg? Not still in a lot of pain?”

“Nah, just a bit now and then.” Eliot replied.

“Okay. Well it looks like you’ll be going home today.” Looking over at Nate, she said, “I want him to stay off of that leg as much as possible. The cut was deep and it went into some muscle tissue. I have an order her for crutches, as I don’t want him putting weight on that leg for three weeks. I’ve already set up a follow-up visit. He’s not going to be staying alone is he?”

“No, I’ll make sure that someone is with him.” Nate told her.

“Good. Take care, Eliot.”

After the doctor had left the room, Eliot turned to Nate, “You’re not seriously gonna … “

Nate looked straight at the hitter, “Yes I am and you are going to follow the doctors’ orders, even if it kills you.”

Eliot opened and closed his mouth, before anything came out. “That sounded like you were talking to a kid. I ain’t your son, Nate.”

Nate snorted, “I know that, but you’ve been acting like child for the last three days.”

“Have not dad.” Eliot grumbled.

++++

Nate wheeled Eliot to the car and helped him into the seat and fastened his seatbelt for him. “Okay, Sophie’s going to take you to your place and stay with you until I come over. We’ve set everything up so that you can stay in the downstairs bedroom for now. No stairs for you.”
Eliot growled, “Nate.”

“I want to stay with him. I’ll be quiet, I promise.” Parker added.

“No!” Eliot growled.

“Aw, isn’t he adorable when he’s cranky?” Hardison said before he could stop himself.

“Oh, I’ll show you adorable!” Eliot threatened.

“Boys!” Sophie snapped.

Nate looked at the two men, “Am I going to have trouble with you two?”

Both men shook their heads. “No,dad. Eliot muttered with a smirk.

Nate growled, “I’m not … Sophie, it’s not funny.”

“Of course not, dear. Now, shoo so I can get him home.” She ordered.

“Home sweet home” Eliot grumbled as Sophie got him settled on this sofa and then handed him the remote.

“Elevate your leg on the ottoman, Eliot.” She instructed as she headed towards the kitchen.

Eliot grumbled but did it anyway. He had found a game on TV and was peacefully watching the game, when the rest of the crew entered the house making all kinds of noise.

“We got pizza!” Parker said with glee.

“I brought sodas.” Hardison chimed in, then looking at Eliot added, “No alcohol for you, son.”

Eliot glared at the hacker.

“I’ve got the table set and the salad is ready” Sophie told Nate. “Why don’t you help Eliot to the table?”

“Uh, I think we’ll all eat in here Sophie.” Nate told her as he winked at Eliot.

Two hours later, all the pizza boxes were empty, Parker and Sophie had fallen asleep on the couch. Hardsion, Parker and Eliot were playing some sort of video game, which Eliot was apparently winning. Smiling at his family, Nate got up and picked up all the empty cartons and tossed them in the trash before gather up all the glasses.

“Anyone want refills?” He asked.

“Nah, we’re good. Thanks” Hardison chimed. “Wait, no, no! How can, you did not just kill me!” He squeaked.

Eliot chuckled evilly.

Nate came back into the room a few minutes later carrying blankets which he covered Parker and Sophie up with. As he headed for the bedroom upstairs, he said. “Lights out at midnight guys. Don’t make me have to come down here.”

Hardison and Eliot groaned in unison at Nate’s orders. Parker chuckled, “I think he likes playing the dad.”

Eliot shook his head, “You’re enjoying this too much, Nate!” He sang in reply. A smile on his face for the first time almost a week as Nate’s chuckle could be heard from upstairs.

Gift for jendavis!

hollow_echos — Sat, 31 Dec 2011 21:37:54 GMT

Title: Five Times Hardison Caught Eliot Red Handed
Genre: Humor
Word Count: ~4,500
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Eliot/Hardison
Warnings: None
Summary: Written for jendavis for the Leverage Secret Santa hosted at leverage_sesa. Happy holidays! Eliot's usually quick on his feet and can get away scot free. There were five times, though, where he wasn't so lucky.
Author's Note: As always, a huge thanks to rusting_roses for the beta.

Click here to read the story at my LJ

gift for serenelystrange!

nightcamedown — Sat, 31 Dec 2011 21:22:01 GMT

Title: Making Nice
Author: nightcamedown
Written for: serenelystrange
Rating: G, no warnings
Characters: Alec Hardison, Eliot Spencer, Parker
Summary: Fluffy post-ep for The San Lorenzo Job.

Read on LJ | Read on DW

Gift for deadflowers5

murtaghs_rose — Sat, 31 Dec 2011 11:51:02 GMT

Fic Title: 5 times Parker met Sam Winchester
Author: murtaghs_rose
Created for: deadflowers5 for the 2011 leverage_sesa exchange.
Fic Rating: T
Characters: Parker, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Minor Alec and Eliot.
Summary: Five times Parker met (and annoyed) Sam Winchester.
Notes: This is one of my first real fics and first time writing Parker so sorry about any characterisation mistakes. I have only really seen the 6th season of Supernatural so I'm not really sure if I did them well but I hope you enjoy it anyway.
Writen for this prompt:- Leverage/SPN xover: Parker pokes Sam like he's a rare specimen of the human race, and then starts to have feelings for him, so she give him strange gifts and pull his hair (like a social akward 5 year old) and Sam is being totaly oblivious, and don't understand why she do this, and Dean is very jealous.

Fic is here: http://murtaghs-rose.livejournal.com/3917.html

Fic for fleurlb - "Movin' Right Along"

serenelystrange — Wed, 28 Dec 2011 06:11:26 GMT

Title: Movin' Right Along
Author: serenelystrange
Written for: fleurlb for the 2011 Leverage Secret Santa
Rating: T
Genre: Humor/Drama, Stand-alone.
Characters: Eliot, Parker, Hardison, as much Hardison/Parker as in the show.
Spoilers: Vague reference to "The Bank Shot Job" and we'll just assume it's goes along pretty well with canon so far..
Note: I own nothing. This sort of became a mash of a few prompts.. then went it's own way. Hope you like it anyway! Title taken from the original Muppet movie..
Summary: When the crew snags a job in Florida, Eliot decides to drive down. To his chagrin, Parker and Hardison tag along. It's funny how close quarters for two days can have a man thinking more about his past than he has in years. But can Eliot reconcile his past with his present before he murders his colleagues? We shall see!

Link to FF: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/7681580/1/

OR

Here on LJ:

A/N - This was intended to be a fluffy little roadtrip fic… but kind of ended up an Eliot character study of sorts. It’s still way more fluff than sadness, though, J

“Why aren’t we flying, again?”

Eliot glares at Hardison through the rearview mirror of the Wrangler.

“Seriously?”

“What?” Hardison asks, his voice just a little too high to believe his innocence.

Eliot continues to glare. Hardison resolutely maintains eye contact, turning the whole thing into a more than a little ridiculous staring contest.

“Stop it,” Parker says, settling into the passenger seat and closing the door.

Eliot ignores her but it only take a few moments for Hardison to give in and look away from Eliot to smile at her.

“Hey, mama,” he says, friendly grin fading into a smaller, sweet smile. Just for her.

“Hey,” she replies, expression unchanged, but voice a bit lower, just this side of soft.

Eliot suddenly feels like he’s intruding, and he clears his throat to break the moment.

“We aren’t ‘not flying’” he says, “I’m driving because I like driving and we don’t have to be in Orlando for a few days.”

“I just didn’t want to listen to Nate and Sophie bicker the whole time,” Parker offers, shrugging.

“And you,” Eliot says, “You didn’t want to fly without Parker, so that better be the last complaint I hear on this trip.”

“Ain’t my momma,” Hardison mutters under his breath, but he sits back and buckles up, anyway.

“We got everything?” Eliot asks, shifting the car into drive.

“I’m all set,” Hardison replies.

Parker nods and shrugs, “I think so. I can steal anything I forget. Except my gear. But that’s in the trunk, I tripled checked. You know… maybe I should check aga…”

“No,” Eliot says, sighing, “I’m sure it’s there, let’s just get going.”

“Fine,” Parker says, pouting, “But if my A-20-15-74 Infinity rig clasp is missing, you’re getting me a new one.”

Eliot grins without looking over. “I know a guy.”

“Course you do,” Hardison says, not even bothering to mutter, “I don’t even know what that is, and you know where to get a new one.”

“Didn’t you bring a gameboy or something?” Eliot snarks back.

Hardison scoffs, “It’s a PSP, for your information. Gameboy, my ass.”

“Oh, I’ll gameboy your ass, alright,” Eliot grumbles, pulling out onto the street.

“That…” Hardison says slowly, “sounds really really wrong, man.”

“And pretty gay,” Parker adds, nonchalantly, “Are you gay for Hardison, Eliot?”

“Oh, for the love of…fuckin’ hell…no. No, Parker, I am not gay for Hardison.”

Eliot’s headache can be seen from space, he’s sure of it.

“Good,” Parker says, “Because you can’t have him.”

The ‘he’s mine’ is left unsaid, but Hardison hears it anyway, and suddenly finds the prospect of 24 hours in a car with Eliot not so bad after all.

Eliot just rolls his eyes and cranks up the radio, letting The Eagles drown out his co-worker’s voices.

By the third hour they’re halfway through Connecticut, and Hardison is fast asleep, curled up impossibly small for his tall frame in the back seat. The radio is on low, some indistinct classic rock station, but it’s just background noise. The weather is unseasonably warm for New England in April, and the windows are down just enough to let the breeze in. It whips Parker’s long blonde hair away from her face, where she tilts it towards the window, watching the trees go by. They’re quiet, only speaking occasionally to comment on something or another, but it’s a good silence. The sun hits high noon and a church bell chimes from somewhere around them. They share a smile at being shaken from their respective thoughts, and continue on their way.

The sixth hour brings them to New York, almost to the city, and with it, the need for a food and bathroom break. Eliot shoots down Parker’s suggestion of Burger King instantly, and Hardison’s Denny’s idea almost as fast. They finally end up at a dingy looking 50’s themed diner, which Hardison is pretty sure has actually had the same staff since the 50’s.

“It’s cute,” Parker says, pointing out the old-fashioned juke box and shiny red booths.

Hardison grudgingly agrees, once he notices that the interior of the diner is much nicer and cleaner than the exterior would suggest.

They rush to the bathrooms as soon as they come into sight, and meet back at the hostess booth, where a kindly looking older woman with a sky-high grey up-do greets them.

“Welcome to Dottie’s, I’m Dottie, help yourself to any open booth. I’ll go get you kids some chocolate milkshakes.”

She slips back into the kitchen faster than they would give someone in at least her sixties credit, leaving Parker to stare up at Hardison in wonder.

“How did she know I wanted a chocolate milkshake?”

Eliot just snickers and says nothing, heading to the booth in the corner, with a full view of the place.

Hardison fights a smirk at her unintentional hilarity, and just shrugs.

“No idea. Come on, I bet they have great fries.”

Parker grins. She does love fries.

The milkshakes are delicious. Parker moans almost obscenely as she sucks the last of it through her straw, and Hardison coughs to cover his embarrassing interest at the sight. Dottie returns at the moment, thankfully, three burger plates balanced expertly on the tray on her arm.

“We didn’t even order yet…” Parker says, more curious than offended.

“You’ll love it, doll, trust me,” Dottie says with a bright red lipstick smile.

“Smells good,” Hardison agrees, nudging Parker with his shoulder.

“Thanks, Dottie,” Eliot says as she lays out the plates and silverware.

“Don’t mention it, sweets,” she says, reaching to pinch Eliot’s cheek like one would do to a small child.

Hardison catches his breath, already imagining the newspaper headline: “Long-Haired Vagrant Murders Beloved Town Icon in Diner Misunderstanding.”

When Eliot doesn’t immediately launch, Hardison breathes a little easier. A moment later, he has to suppress all out laughter when Eliot just blushes and drops his gaze to his plate.

Dottie heads back to the kitchen, and Eliot snaps his eyes to Hardison in an instant, daring him to say a word.

Hardison may be a lot of things, but he’s not an idiot, and he keeps quiet. Parker, already a quarter of the way into her burger, doesn’t even notice the exchange.

They’re almost done when an excited female voice squeals across the room.

“Eliot!”

Hardison and Parker look around in confusion, as they don’t know anybody there. Eliot, however, looks visibly surprised as the girl practically skips to them.

“Candi, hey,” Eliot says, slipping into some kind of cautioned familiarity they’re not used to hearing in his voice.

Hardison gets a good long look at Candi as she stands there with her hands on her hips in the universal “where HAVE you been, Mister?” gesture. She’s certainly pretty, with big brown eyes and a sweet face, albeit with way too much makeup. She’s tiny, even slighter than Parker, and several inches shorter, but her assets leave no doubt that she is, in fact, all grown up.

“Get over here and hug me, jackass!” she demands, clenching one hand around the leather of Eliot’s jacket.

To Hardison and Parker’s surprise, Eliot stands without fuss, wrapping the girl in a brief but tight hug. It looks as if Candi is barely restraining herself from actually jumping into Eliot’s arms, and Hardison is feeling more and more uncomfortable by the moment.

Candi, however, seems unconcerned as she shoves Eliot slightly back into the booth and slips in beside him, across from Parker.

“Hi!” she greets them with pep not unlike Parker’s cover during that pharmaceutical job. “I’m Candi.”

“This is Hardison and Parker,” Eliot introduces them with a wave, “Colleagues of mine.”

“Ohhh,” Candi says, conspiring grin on her face, “So you guys are like spies, too?”

Parker laughs out loud but Hardison shushes her before answering.

“Something like that, yeah. How about you? How do you know Eliot?”

Candi’s bright expression sobers for a moment as she remembers, but she forces it back into place as she answers.

“He helped my family out of a bad situation five years ago. We owe him everything.”

“I told you then,” Eliot scowls, “You don’t owe me anything. I owed your daddy a favor, is all. I was just returning it.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Candi says to the others. “He saved my life. And my mother’s.” She laughs. “I wanted to marry him by the end of it all. My mom had to pull me off his arm when he was leaving.”

“It’s true,” Eliot says, laughing as well, “She was even tinier then, if you can believe it, barely above my waist, even at thirteen.”

“Hey, I grew!” Candi protests, “I’m five foot two, now!”

Eliot just rolls his eyes and ruffles her hair.

“I still think you should’ve taken me with you,” Candi says, smirking so he knows it’s not a real concern.

“You’re a child,” Eliot replies, looking to Hardison and Parker for support.

Parker just watches the exchange with amusement, while Hardison is torn between mocking Eliot for having what appears to be a pseudo little sister, and not wanting his entrails spilled out in a retro diner.

“Not anymore,” Candi says, and there’s no mistaking the interest in her voice.

“Oooh,” Parker says, unable to contain herself, “She wants to have SEX with you!”

Hardison chokes on his soda as Candi flushes bright red. Eliot sighs deeply.

“Yes, thank you for the excellent observation, Parker.”

“We talked about appropriate and non-appropriate situations, remember?” Hardison asks Parker, staring at her meaningfully.

“Sorry,” Parker says to Candi, “But don’t feel bad. A lot of women want to have sex with Eliot. I can’t figure out why, though.”

“Hardison…” Eliot says, his headache returning.

“Hey, girl,” Hardison says to Parker, “why don’t we let Eliot and Candi catch up? Let’s go play with the crane game or something.”

“I can beat that in 5.3 seconds,” Parker replies, eyes lighting up with delight, “But I bet I can break my record!”

They go off to the front of the diner, leaving Eliot and Candi to talk. Candi slips out of the booth, sitting back down where Hardison was, facing Eliot.

The atmosphere is calmer now, that Candi has gotten over her initial excitement, and subsequent embarrassment. She has grown up, Eliot notes, as he gets a good look at her. Under the bright pink lip-gloss and neon eye-shadow is the baby face he remembers, but it’s less youthful roundness, more cheekbones and delicate features. Her eyes are the same, though, big and wide and deep brown, framed with thick lashes, far too similar to a baby doe for her own good. He knows she’ll have men on their knees as soon as she figures it out.

“Just gonna stare at me?” she asks, catching him in the act.

“Maybe,” he retorts, sticking his tongue out at her in defiance. “It’s just weird that you grew up.”

“Everyone grows up, Eliot,” she says, rolling her eyes.

He looks at her fondly, and reaches over to poke her button nose. “Don’t rush it, kiddo. Enjoy being young.”

She mimes biting his finger as he pulls it away, and he laughs, remember a similar exchange five years as they said goodbye.

Candi’s face softens, no doubt remembering the same thing.

“I waited for a letter,” she confesses, looking torn between embarrassment and annoyance. “After a while, I started hoping for a postcard. After a few years, I just prayed I never saw your face on the news.”

“It wasn’t safe to be in contact then,” Eliot explains, “I’m sorry. It was risky enough sending...”

He trails off, realizing what he was about to say, but Candi just laughs.

“I know about the money. Mom was so shocked that it just kinda slipped out one day. Because of that money, we got to keep the house, and great-aunt Dottie got to keep this place. You don’t even know how many people you helped. Hell, mom had a hard enough time keeping the whole thing a secret from Dottie.”

“How’s your momma, anyway?” Eliot asks, changing the subject that makes his throat clench uncomfortably.

“She’s real good,” Candi says, “Kind of a wreck about me going off to college in the fall. Umass Boston, can you believe that?”

Eliot laughs outright, then, head thrown back with it.

“Boston, huh?”

“Yes…” Candi says, looking slightly concerned.

“Well,” Eliot says, “I’ll have to show you around. And threaten any assholes who try to get in your pants.”

“Wait, what?” Candi says, bouncing in her seat, “You’re in Boston now? Oh my god! Mom’s gonna love this! Ooh! I can visit you all the time! And ooh, I bet you can get me a fake ID, right? And hey… maybe I want to let some of them in my pants! No hurting them unless I say so!”

“Maybe not all the time,” Eliot laughs, “But you can definitely visit. And fuck no; I’m not getting you a fake ID. You’re a good girl. Who isn’t going to let douchebags impregnate her.”

“Ew, Eliot,” she says, wrinkling her nose, “I wouldn’t have sex with a douchebag.”

Eliot glares.

“Or…with… anybody?” she says, slowly.

“That’s better,” Eliot says, nodding sternly.

“So I guess Brandon from last year doesn’t c…”

“Quiet!” Eliot demands, “I do not want to hear it. What’s Brandon’s last name?”

“NO,” Candi says, “leave him alone.”

Eliot huffs but settles down.

“Fine. But if I see you on facebook with a douchebag, I’m gonna kick his ass. Fair warning.”

“I can accept that.”

They’re back on the road, only an hour off schedule, Hardison behind the wheel while Eliot stretches out in the back. They make it through New Jersey and into Maryland before Hardison breaks and asks Eliot about Candi.

“So,” he says, in what he thinks is a neutral and conversational tone. Parker’s snort of amusement tells him otherwise.

Eliot lifts his head up slightly from where he’s lying and raises an eyebrow, which Hardison takes as a “go ahead, ask me about my mysterious and troubled past” gesture.

It’s possible he’s put too much thought into Eliot’s facial expressions, but that’s another thing entirely.

“She seems like a nice kid,” Hardison says, eyes still on the road as they cruise through. By some miracle, there isn’t much traffic at all.

Eliot grunts his agreement but says nothing else.

“Did you have sex with her?” Parker asks, in that tone where they can never tell if she’s serious or not.

“She was a baby!” Eliot says, offended. He sits up fully to glare at Parker.

Parker is unfazed and stares back calmly as she explains.

“Not when you helped her, today when you two were alone.”

“Seriously?” Hardison laughs, “They were only alone for like twenty minutes. And we were ten feet away. Not even Eliot can pull that off.”

“Oh, I can pull… dammit, Hardison!” Eliot curses, cutting himself before turning his attention back to Parker.

“No, I did not have sex with her. Not now, not then, not ever.”

“I was just asking, don’t be so touchy,” Parker says, smirking.

“Why do you have to egg him on?” Hardison asks, though Eliot can tell he’s fighting his own laughter.

Parker shrugs, “It’s fun.”

“Anyway…” Hardison says, trailing off, “Come on, El, we’re curious.”

“I don’t actually care,” Parker feels the need to point out.

“Fine,” Hardison says, “I’m curious.”

Eliot scowls at them, for good measure, but answers anyway.

“I served with Candi’s dad a long time ago. He came home in a body bag. So when his family found themselves in some trouble a few years back, I helped out. It’s not that interesting.”

“It was more than that,” Parker says, turning her surprisingly sharp gaze on him, “Even I could tell that it was more than a job to you.”

Eliot scowls again. “Stop being insightful, it’s annoying.”

“Bite me,” Parker says, sticking out her tongue.

“Don’t bite Parker,” Hardison protests, half-heartedly, knowing they aren’t listening to him anyway.

“I got pretty beat up,” Eliot says, sighing. “I couldn’t go to the hospital, I’d just come off a big job, it was too risky. Linda, Candi’s mom, put me up in their spare room while my broken leg, and everything else, healed.”

“How long?” Hardison asks.

“Two months,” Eliot says, with a rueful smile, “It was stupid. I could walk with a crutch after two weeks, and the cast her doctor friend put on came off after a month. But they wouldn’t let me leave. I guess I didn’t really argue that much.”

“Did you have sex with the mom?”

“PARKER!” Eliot and Hardison exclaim in unison.

She glares at them, “What?” she rolls her eyes at Hardison, “Like you weren’t thinking it?”

“I wasn’t… it didn’t… this isn’t about me!” Hardison replies, focusing intently on the road.

Eliot sighs again.

“No, I didn’t have sex with her either. They just… they grew on me, alright? It was nice to be treated like a good man for a while.”

He crosses his arms and looks pointedly out the window, effectively ending the conversation.

It’s pitch black by the time they pull into a motel lot, somewhere in Virginia.

“I still say we should just keep driving,” Eliot grumbles, even as he’s yawning.

“I want to sleep in a real bed,” Hardison says, pulling his and Parker’s duffel bags over his shoulder as he shuts the trunk.

“Didn’t you ever go camp…never mind,” Eliot says, snorting.

“Do you think they have chips?” Parker asks, unconcerned by the petty argument.

“What? I don’t know, probably,” Eliot asks, giving her his patented ‘something wrong with you’ look.

“Can we just!” Hardison says, gesturing towards the door.

“How many rooms?” The woman at the desks asks.

“Three,” they say at once, all tired of hours in the car with each other.

“Oh,” she says, staring at the computer screen, “It seems like we only have two rooms left. Two rooms, king sized beds. Will that be ok?”

“Fine,” Eliot says, smirking, “One for me, one for them.” He hands the woman a credit card with a wide grin, “It’s on me.”

“El…” Hardison says, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

“You and Parker are adults,” Eliot says, calm as can be, “I’m sure you can share a nice big bed.”

“It’ll be fine,” Parker agrees, leaning into Hardison’s side for just a moment. “I don’t mind sharing.”

Before Hardison can reply, the woman is speaking again.

“Alright, Mr. Smith, you three are all set. Rooms 203 and 209. I hope you enjoy your stay. Y’all be sure to come down for your free continental breakfast before 10AM.”

They accept the keys, real metal keys with surprising weight, and thank her before heading up the stairs.

Eliot kicks off his boots as he drops to the bed, stretching out just because he can. The bed is more comfortable than he expects for a cheap motel, and smells faintly of lavender. Getting undressed suddenly seems too arduous a task to take on, and he falls asleep before he can even get his jeans off, one hand still on his open belt buckle.

Hardison sits on the edge of the bed while Parker is in the bathroom, pretty sure he’s moments away from a panic attack.

“Ok, Alec, breathe,” he whispers to himself, “You can do this. It’s cool, it’s good, it’s fine. You got this! Oh God, you don’t got this.”

He drops his head to his hands and takes another deep breath.

“It’ll be fine,” he says again, “So maybe you don’t know exactly where you stand with Parker. Maybe you don’t have labels, and maybe you only makeout during a con, and maybe… ok, this isn’t helping. And now you’re talking to yourself.”

He wipes his sweaty palms on the thick flannel of this pajama pants and gives himself a mental shake. The bathroom door opens and he looks up. He can’t help but smile at the sight.

Parker’s wearing a blue and white pajama set, decorated with what looks like hopping bunnies. Just when he thinks she can’t get any more adorable, she proves him wrong. He doesn’t mind in the least.

“Tired,” Parker says through a yawn, moving over to the other side of the bed and crawling under the covers.

“Yeah,” Hardison agrees. He stands to turn off the overhead light, leaving only the small, wall-mounted lamp above the bed on.

He gets into the bed, closer to the edge than he needs to be, but still too tense to move any closer. He closes his eyes immediately and wills himself to go to sleep.

Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t work.

The thing with him and Parker, he muses to himself, silently, is that almost everything between them is never said. It’s an understanding that they have, even if he isn’t always sure they’re on the same page. They don’t talk about it, and he doesn’t push it, because he knows that she’s worth waiting for, in every sense of the word. But it’s still difficult. Because more than anything, he can feel her. It’s palpable, and it’s always there, the tension. He wants. Sure, he thinks, he’d love to make love with Parker, God knows he’s dreamed of it. But even more than that, which is a considerable feat, he wants to love her, and know without doubt that she loves him back.

They’re face to face, and even with his eyes closed, she’s all he sees.

He can’t help it; he reaches out to her, but catches himself at the last second, dropping his hand softly to the middle of the bed. Shaking his head at his own silliness, he tries to sleep again.

He feels her move, then, though he doesn’t open his eyes. She reaches up and pulls the cord on the lamp, casting the room into pitch black. When she pulls away, however, she finds his hand and presses her palm to his.

Hardison grins in the dark and twines their fingers together. Sleep comes easy after that.

When Hardison and Parker make it down to breakfast, they find themselves face to face with what Hardison can only assume is one of Eliot’s favorite days ever.

Sure enough, Eliot is in the breakfast room, grinning and flirting unabashedly, accent stronger than either of them has ever heard.

“Who are all these girls?” Parker asks, eyeing the college-aged, far too preppy, scantily clad, girls that appear to have taken over the hotel.

“We’re the college volleyball champions!” a perky redhead answers, as she skips by with a muffin.

Hardison is too baffled to say a word, but he inches closer to Parker automatically. They may be attractive, but this many perky females in one small space makes him nervous.

“I didn’t know that was a thing,” Parker whispers to him, “That’s a thing?”

“Apparently,” he replies, eyeing the coffee pot that seems miles away through the throng of blonde and tan.

“Come on,” Parker says, grabbing Hardison’s hand, “there’s a waffle maker!”

The waffles are actually delicious, and they eat across from Eliot, ignoring the chattering around them.

They drag Eliot out, almost literally, around noon, and head for the car.

“How do you just keep finding college girls that want you?” Hardison asks, half mocking, half genuinely curious.

Eliot just smirks.

“Nasty,” Hardison says, “You could be their father!”

Eliot grins, “Oh, they can call me daddy if they want.”

“Didn’t you say Candi was going to college in the fall?” Parker asks, in such an innocent tone that it must be anything but.

Eliot’s face freezes mid-grin, quickly turning into an expression of horror. Without another word, he opens the drivers’ side door and slumps behind the wheel, slamming the door shut after him.

Parker and Hardison exchange a look before having a quick rock-paper-scissors game that decides who gets stuck sitting next to the grumpy Eliot.

“You have a tell,” Parker says when she wins.

“Eliot told you what it was, didn’t he?”

“Maybe.”

Hardison just rolls his eyes and heads for the passenger side door. Parker crawls into the back and stretches out as best she can, still snickering.

Eliot drives all the way through North Carolina without a word, a feat that impresses even Hardison, as the drive is several hours. They stop at a gas station when they cross over into South Carolina, much to Parker’s delight.

Eliot fills up the tank while Hardison waits for the bathroom. Parker, bag of chips in hand, comes to stand by him, leaning against the car.

“You buy those?” Eliot asks.

Parker just continues munching, ignoring the question.

“That’s what I thought,” Eliot says, but he’s almost smiling.

“Why are you so angry?” Parker asks, giving him an assessing look, “Even more than usual.”

Eliot quirks a brow and gives her a glare. “What did I say about being insightful?”

“What did I say about biting me?” Parker counters.

“Don’t think Hardison would like that very much,” Eliot can’t help but tease.

The gauge clicks and Eliot takes the moment to gather his thoughts, putting away the pump and screwing the gas cover back onto the car.

“I wanted to drive,” he says at last, leaning back against the car beside Parker. “Alone.”

Parker nods. “Why didn’t you just say something?”

Eliot laughs, dryly. “You’re a good distraction,” he says, “The constant aggravation keeps me from thinking too much.”

“Thinking about what?” Parker asks, giving him her best version of Sophie’s ‘concerned’ look. It’s not terribly convincing, but he appreciates the effort.

“Just… thinking,” Eliot replies, shrugging.

“I don’t understand,” Parker says, frowning.

“Most days,” Eliot goes on, “It’s easy to live in the moment. We do good, you know?”

Parker nods.

“But I’m not a good man,” he says, frowning briefly, “at least; I wasn’t, for a really long time.”

Parker moves closer, just a bit, until their sides are barely touching as they lean against the car. She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t try to convince Eliot otherwise, even if she feels it. Eliot has always appreciated that about her, she doesn’t waste breath on empty words.

“You all drive me crazy, you know that,” Eliot says, growling slightly, “I’m not sure if you and Hardison or Nate and Sophie are worse.”

They pause to think for a moment before answering in unison.

“Nate and Sophie.”

Eliot laughs at that, before turning slightly to actually look at Parker as he makes an admission.

“I was annoyed when you two tagged along, but then…”

“Then, what?”

“And then I wasn’t,” he says, brow furrowing, “which annoys me even more.”

“So you’re angry because… you aren’t angry?” Parker asks, eyebrows still raised in disbelief.

“I’ve been…” Eliot pauses, practically pouting, “domesticated.”

Parker laughs loudly at that, throwing her head back with the sound. Hardison chooses that moment to finally reappear and he looks understandably lost.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, flitting between Parker’s red face and Eliot’s scowl.

“Eliot’s a cat!” Parker announces, bounding to the other side of the car before Eliot can swat her.

“Ooook, then,” Hardison says, deciding not to tempt the wrath-of-Eliot by asking him to elaborate while they still have 300 miles left to go.

“Road trips are boring,” Parker says when they’re halfway through South Carolina.

“Play the license plate game,” Eliot says, in a tone that clearly says ‘leave me alone, I’m driving.’”

“I don’t know how,” she replies, turning around to look at Hardison in the back, “How do I play that?”

Hardison looks up from his Ipad and smiles.

“It’s a kid’s game,” he says, “You look around and see how many different states the license plates are from.”

“Oh,” Parker says, looking disappointed, “That’s not very interesting.”

She shoots Eliot a displeased look, which he resolutely ignores as he takes a sip of his coffee.

“You’re forgetting who you’re with,” Hardison grins. “I’m sure Eliot and I can tell you more about those people than the states they came from.”

“I’m not a part of this,” Eliot says, dully.

“Show me!” Parker demands, as she unbuckles her seatbelt to turn around and face Hardison, ignoring the protests from both of the men.

“We get pulled over, you’re flashing the cop,” Eliot warns.

“Hell no, she isn’t,” Hardison argues.

“I’ll just taze him,” Parker shrugs, “or her.”

Hardison sighs, “Don’t get pulled over, Eliot.”

“Show me!” Parker demands again.

“Ok, ok,” Hardison says, picking out a grey sedan in front of them. He fiddles with the tablet and runs the license plate through a whir of processes that Parker only pretends to understand.

“Alright,” Hardison begins, “The car is registered to one Mrs. Samantha Smith…”

“Suspicious,” Eliot points out, before going back to ignoring them.

“Says mister ‘I’m not a part of this,’” Hardison mocks before looking back at his screen. “Anyway. Samantha Smith, who doesn’t have any other alias, by the way, is your basic homemaker. Two kids, accountant husband, awesome garden…”

“Boring,” Parker interrupts, sighing.

“Give me a minute,” Hardison says, fingers a blur over the screen, “Everyone’s got something... there we go!” he says, triumphantly.

“What is it?” Parker asks, bouncing.

“Turns out little Mrs. Smith got picked up last year for cocaine possession. Outside of a, get this, exhibitionist sex club. In the outskirts of Savannah.”

“Oooh,” Parker says, “She looks so… normal.”

They take a moment to peer into the car as best they can, noting the average woman with curly blonde hair and an honest to God cardigan.

“I’m not surprised,” Eliot says, “She has a brooch. Anyone who wears brooches and is under 70 is into some kinky shit.”

“Where do you even get this stuff?” Hardison asks in disbelief, but Parker just nods.

“I’ve always liked brooches,” she says, absently, completely unaware of how both men’s eyes dart to her with interest.

“Now, this guy,” Eliot says, pointing out a middle aged man in a black convertible, “Used to be a big-wig at some company, but got laid off when the economy tanked. He used the money he siphoned from them when the rumors started to buy that car.”

“You can’t know that,” Hardison says, rolling his eyes, but he types the information into his programs anyway, reading for a long minute.

“Son of a…” he says, “It’s all true. The accounts under Roger Wellman, who the car is registered to, received a relatively small but consistent deposit over a six month span. He bought the car two months after he lost his job.”

Eliot grins. “Also,” he says, “he’s cheating on his wife, and at the moment is getting sucked off by someone younger than his kids.”

“Oh, come on,” Parker says, even as she’s giving the car another look. “It is weird that he has the top up on a convertible when it’s this nice out,” she admits.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Hardison insists, “he could just have the a.c. on.”

“Pay attention to the car,” Eliot says, “Watch how it moves. It’s a very distinctive… way.” He leans back and shifts the wheel slightly, one way, then the other. The car moves with it. Not enough to be overtly noticeable, unless it’s being looked for. And now that they’ve seen it, they can’t un-see it.

“Damn,” Hardison says, shaking his head and calling out to the car, “Y’all nasty! And dangerous!”

Parker and Eliot laugh at that, and it’s only a moment later that Hardison joins in.

The coast of Georgia is prettier than Parker had expected, and she demands that they stop for ice cream along the water. They find a little tourist place to stretch out their legs and Parker goes off to get ice cream. She returns only minutes later, three peach ice cream cones in her hands.

“Here,” she says, handing Eliot his ice cream, and his wallet, back.

“Really?” he says, but it’s more habit than actual annoyance.

Hardison just snorts and accepts his own ice cream.

They sit on worn pier and dangle their feet over the edge as they eat. The sun is a while from setting, yet, but the air is cool by the water, and it isn’t long until Parker is shivering in her thin t-shirt. Rolling his eyes, Eliot gives her a little shove that sends her into Hardison. Surprised, the hacker steadies her with an arm around her shoulders. When she leans into him, he leaves it there, holding her as close as she lets him.

He doesn’t need to look at Eliot to know the other man is smirking. But for once, he really doesn’t mind.

They stay there until all they can taste is the salt in the air. And when they pile back into the car, it’s with a quiet camaraderie that’s both rare and surprising, but altogether welcome.

Parker sleeps on the last leg of their journey, lying down with the sun as it sets. Hardison convinces Eliot to let him drive the last few hours against the hitter’s protests, knowing the other man needs to be more rested for the job, just in case.

They drive without talking for a long time, listening to the radio and occasionally humming along. Hardison laughs as a Hall & Oates song comes on, and he turns to find Eliot laughing, too. They share a look, both remembering the job at the bank.

“That was kind of fun,” Eliot says, almost fondly.

Hardison snorts, “Yeah, besides Nate getting shot and all.”

“Well yeah,” Eliot rolls his eyes, “obviously.”

“Seems like forever ago,” Hardison muses; eyes landing on Parker’s sleeping reflection in the mirror.

“Seems like yesterday,” Eliot counters.

“That, too,” Hardison agrees. “No regrets, though.”

Eliot stalls on his response, tongue suddenly feeling too heavy for his mouth. But then he smiles, so minutely that Hardison almost doesn’t catch it.

“A lot of regrets,” Eliot says, “but not with y’all.”

“Aww,” Hardison can’t help but tease, “you love us! You big teddy bear.”

“I will break your face,” Eliot says, sternly.

Hardison just laughs.

They drive on.

Nearly two days after they left, they arrive at the hotel in Orlando. Nate and Sophie get cursory greetings before they all head in to get a few more hours of sleep.

Later that day, they amble out of the van and ready themselves for the job. The giant gates welcome them as they instinctively huddle closer to each other, in the surrounding crowd.

“Everyone ready for this?” Sophie asks, smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles in her dress.

Eliot gestures to Hardison and Parker before nodding. “I spent two days in a car with them, I could use some violence.”

“He’s lying,” Parker says, “He doesn’t want to hurt us. Much.”

“Mm-hm,” Hardison agrees, tossing an arm over a suddenly growling Eliot’s shoulders, “he loves us. Come on man, hug it out.”

Eliot just sighs and slumps his shoulders in defeat, fighting the grin that threatens to appear.

“If you’re done with… whatever this is,” Nate says, slipping on his favorite sunglasses, “shall we?”

They all nod their assent and ready themselves for the rush of people.

“Good,” Nate says, pausing dramatically for a moment, “Let’s go steal Disney World!”

THE END.

fic for arabwel

scout_lover — Sun, 25 Dec 2011 06:25:47 GMT

Title: These Things that Were
Author: scout_lover
Characters: Eliot Spencer, Damien Moreau, Chapman (whom I’ve named Myles), Nate Ford (briefly)
Rating: PG-13 (implied, very implied, consensual m/m relationship)
Warnings: None
Word count: 4,983
A/N: This is my gift for arabwel. The prompt was: Eliot/Damien Moreau when the times were good, with an additional wish for outsider pov. Merry Christmas, arabwel, and I hope you like your gift!

He worked for Moreau back in the day. A lot.

Gift for ghoulfang

deadflowers5 — Sat, 24 Dec 2011 15:47:09 GMT

Type: art
Artist: deadflowers5
Created For: ghoulfang
Characters: Eliot
Rating: PG
Notes: I'm going with the prompter obvious love of Eliot. So this art post is all about Eliot. Eliot in every which way. I hope you will like it.

More here

fic for whiskyinmind

mizzy2k — Sat, 24 Dec 2011 11:34:25 GMT

Title: Gaze In Your Mirror (and see yourself)
Author: mizzy2k
Written for: whiskyinmind for the 2011 Leverage Secret Santa
Rating: T
Characters: Eliot Spencer/Emma Swan
Crossover fandom: Once Upon a Time
Spoilers: Vague reference to "The Experimental Job".
Warnings: Dead body.
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.
Summary: Eliot gets a call out of the blue from an ex-flame, bounty hunter Emma Swan.

GAZE IN YOUR MIRROR (AND SEE YOURSELF)

Fic for Mizzy2K

lmx_v3point3 — Sat, 24 Dec 2011 02:08:55 GMT

Fic: Job Code 1138 - Apprehension of Fugitives
Author: lmx_v3point3
Written for: mizzy2k for the 2011 leverage_sesa exchange.
Rating: PG-13
Words: 8100
Pairing: Nate/Sophie/Eliot, Alec/Parker
AU: THX 1138 fusion
Warnings: Out of character (sedated) characters. AU situations. Dark themes.
Spoilers: For the original film, none for Leverage.
Disclaimer: None of the characters or locations are my own, THX 1128 belongs to George Lucas, and Leverage belongs to its creators and license holders.

"You need to be honest with us, or we can't help you." NAT 4875 sat back in his seat, passive and friendly.

Fic for hollows_echos

caitriona_3 — Thu, 22 Dec 2011 03:09:55 GMT

Title: A Haunted Past
Author: Caitriona
Created For: hollows_echos
Characters: Parker & Eliot
Word Count: 1709
Disclaimer: At most I own a few seasons of DVDs and a multiplicity of plot bunnies who don't cooperate when I need them to.
Rating: PG-13
Author’s Note: Here was the prompt: A part of Parker's past comes back to haunt her during a con. Eliot's there to support her. Ok, and maybe beat up the person who caused that pained expression, that fear, which crept over her face. Eliot protects his own. One of my plot bunnies woke up and here is the result.

Story can be found HERE

Fic For Zortified: When Our Shadows Clash

yanzadracan — Wed, 21 Dec 2011 02:48:25 GMT

Title: When Our Shadows Clash
Author: YanzaDracan
Created For: Zortified
Fandom: Leverage
Characters: Eliot; Nate; Sophie; Parker; Hardison
Word Count: 6,097
Rating: PG-15
Author’s Note: 2011 Leverage Secret Santa Exchange! zortified, asked for the following: Hurt/comfort, angst, transformation (weres of all sorts).
Summary: In a world where the Old Races and humans live together, Eliot is a bounty hunter/retrieval specialist. Takes place during Seasons 1 and 2 up to The Bottle Job.
Disclaimer: I don't own them, various producers and studio executives who make more money than I can imagine own them. I'm not making any money. Any goofs are mine.

No one paid any attention...

Fic: Tomorrow for yanzadracan

elshadowboxer — Sun, 18 Dec 2011 16:41:40 GMT

TITLE: Tomorrow
AUTHOR: Electric Light Shadowboxer
CREATED FOR: yanzadracan
RATING: R for bad words
WORD COUNT: 4,518
CATEGORY: Slash
PAIRING: Nate/Eliot
DISCLAIMER: I do not own, nor am I associated with Leverage. No copyright infringement intended. This little piece of insanity was written for fun, not profit. I make no money. Literally.
SUMMARY: Sophie finds out about Nate and Eliot.
NOTE: Written for the Leverage Secret Santa 2011. Thanks to piratekit for the awesome beta!

http://elshadowboxer.livejournal.com/13818.html#cutid1

Fic :: "Trust" [Parker/Sophie, NC17] :: for sienamystic

ariestess — Tue, 13 Dec 2011 06:01:05 GMT

Title: Trust
Author: A. Magiluna Stormwriter
Email: stormwriter@shatterstorm.net
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Parker/Sophie
Date Written: 9 December 2011
Word Count: 2404
Written for: leverage_sesa 2011
Recipient: sienamystic
Prompt(s): trust me to catch you / let's do something reckless and fun
Summary: I've done a number of things over the years to achieve my goals as a grifter, but this was never one of them.
Spoilers: None
Warnings: No standard warnings apply.
Content Notes: Minor D/s implications.
Website: ShatterStorm Productions – Frisked & Conquered
Link to: http://f-n-c.shatterstorm.net/
Archive: ShatterStorm Productions only…all others ask for permission & we'll see…
Feedback :: Constructive feedback is always welcome.

Author’s Disclaimer: "Leverage," the characters, and situations depicted are the property of Dean Devlin, Electric Entertainment, and Turner Network Television (TNT). This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes. Previously unrecognized characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. This site is in no way affiliated with "Leverage," TNT, or any representatives of the actors.

Author’s Notes: My original idea got screwed up somehow and I ended up having to start all over again for this story. And you know what? I'm happy that I did. I am loving this story in ways I really hadn't thought about until I wrote it. Anyone who knows me knows that I'm a dyed in the wool Sophie girl, but I love me some Parker, too. And their interactions are so lovely.

Dedication: My muses, for always coming through in the end…

Beta: Many thanks to cuspofqueens for the beta. Any remaining mistakes are entirely mine.

"Trust"
By A. Magiluna Stormwriter

"Do you trust me?"

Read on LJ
Read on DW
Read on AO3

Fic: Brave Love Mercy, 1/1

zortified — Sun, 11 Dec 2011 17:31:11 GMT

Title: Brave Love Mercy
Author: james
Recipient: sheryden
Pairing: Nate/Eliot
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3865
Warnings: none
Disclaimer: not mine, no profit made, characters stolen but returned unharmed
Notes: Written for Leverage SeSa 2011. Many thanks to ratherstory and aris for the excellent betaing!
Summary: When a job goes badly, Eliot needs something from Nate that he doesn't usually ask for.

Read on LJ
Read on AO3

Living for the Weekend

jendavis — Mon, 05 Dec 2011 18:49:09 GMT

Title: Living for the Weekend
Author: jendavis
Written For: bandwidth_limit
Rating: G
Word Count: 2913
Characters: Sophie/Nate, Team
Summary: After working a long con infiltrating the Boston PD, Sophie just wants to on vacation with Nate. Apparently, she's not the only one.
Warnings: N/A
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue, don't take this too seriously.
Notes: I wasn't able to work in the Rizzoli and Isles part of the prompt, as I've never seen the show, but I hope bandwidth_limit will forgive me!

Story posted at AO3, LJ and DW.

I Act Out and You Act Tough

sienamystic — Sat, 03 Dec 2011 20:35:27 GMT

Title: I Act Out and You Act Tough
Author: Sienamystic
Recipient: Telaryn
Fic Rating: Adult, Explicit
Characters: Eliot Spencer/Faith Lehane(BtVS)
Spoilers: None. Pre-team.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, just borrowing for evil sexy purposes.
Summary: Eliot's seen a lot of things. But there are some that he's never run across. Title taken from HoneyHoney, "Ohio"
Also posted at Ao3

It was eleven o’clock on a night that was just starting to hint at the coming of fall, and Eliot was willing to bet that this lonely little motel somewhere in the ass-end of Kansas - or maybe he was actually in Colorado by this point, who the hell knew? - was just about the only outpost of civilization for twenty miles. It had appeared out of nowhere, on the side of the little back highway he was taking his time traveling down, because sometimes you just needed to stay out of sight while people forgot about you. Right now, a little anonymity was the exact thing he needed.

Well, that, and a beer.

He eased his truck into the cracked asphalt parking lot, got out, and surveyed the terrain. The place was obviously a holdover from the fifties...maybe even the forties, at that...small bungalows clustered around a sad looking patch of grass and a flagpole with no flag, just a metal clamp that clanged against the pole relentlessly in the chilly wind. And hey, lucky for him, the owner was smart enough to know that he wasn’t going to make much money off of tourist traffic, and had turned one of the bungalows into a bar, judging by the neon sign that blinked Beer Beer Beer at him in glowing red letters. He checked into the motel, got his key, tossed his bag in without even looking twice around the tiny room, and went straight over to see what was on offer. It turned out to be a little juke-joint sort of place, unsurprisingly. All wood-paneling, neon, and peanut shells on the floor, with a pool table in the corner and a jukebox blaring something that sounded like one of Elvis’s B-sides.

Eliot had been surveyed by the twelve or so patrons of the establishment when he pushed open the flimsy wooden door - not in a hostile way, but in a curious one. Figured that they didn’t get much new blood around these parts. Two older women in jeans and frilly blouses sat idly chatting with three men, all wearing hats with feed store logos. In the corner, a half-hearted game of pool was underway. Eliot headed towards the bar, skirting a table holding a quartet of bikers telling road stories, with an impressive number of empty mugs on their table. All four sent flat glances in his direction, made an assessment, and apparently decided he wasn’t interesting enough to divert them from a story involving an engine hoist, three bottles of tequila, and a man named Fat Jake.

The barmaid, a grandmotherly woman who looked like she should have been running a church picnic instead of tending a roadhouse bar, gave him a big smile as he approached the bar. “Help you, hon?”

“Beer, please. And a burger, if possible.”

“Nothing easier. I’ll get you some fries, too, You look hungry.” She drew him a beer in a giant, slightly chipped mug, slung it in front of him, and disappeared through a swinging door, presumably to the kitchen.

Eliot was about halfway through his beer when she reappeared, sliding a plate with a burger, fries, and the largest pickle spear he’d ever seen in front of him. He dug into the food gratefully. It had been hours since his last stop and all he had eaten for most of the day were a couple of candy bars from a truck stop in Nebraska. He had just polished off the last of the fries, with a generous dousing of ketchup, when the door to the bar banged open again, and a girl walked in.

The men in the feed hats stared. The bikers stared. Hell, Eliot himself was staring. The newcomer was a gorgeous brunette, all smokey eyes and pout, and she walked into the bar like she knew everyone there had been waiting for her arrival. She wore jeans and a t-shirt, topped with a brown leather jacket, none of which was remarkable at all...but the way they clung, showing off a set of remarkable curves...that was remarkable. Quite remarkable. Damn.

She strode in without any hesitation and with just a hint of challenge in her walk, her long legs carrying her past the gawking men, one of whom got a purse in the chest from his lady friend. Ambling up to the bar, she smiled at the barmaid. “Beer, please. Been a long night and I could use one.”

“Bet you could, at that, hon. Anything else? Dinner? Man over there will vouch for the hamburgers.” She gestured at Eliot, who did his best to look like he hadn’t been gawking.

“Uh. Yeah. Good burgers.”

The girl flashed him a smile that was all mischief. “Glad to hear it. Sure, burger me.” Her accent wasn’t from around here. Boston, maybe - but a long ways back. He couldn’t place her age, either. Late twenties, perhaps? She moved well, too. He was reminded of racehorses, that same combination of power and beauty that top athletes have, but he was having a lot of trouble putting her in any sort of context. He knew why he was in this lonely little bar, but why the hell was she?

The barmaid sent a beer skimming down the bar and she caught it, tipping it up to swig a healthy gulp. Eliot did his best to turn his attention back towards his own drink, but he remained acutely aware of the girl’s presence just next to him, like standing too close to a live wire. He looked at her sidelong, watching her without making it too obvious. She wasn’t giving anything away, however, and was calmly sipping her beer like she wasn’t the current center of attention of the entire place. A lot of poise on this one. For a while, the bar was quiet, save for the jukebox, which had switched over to Patsy Cline, and the quiet clack coming from the pool table.

One of the bikers, after a whispered consultation with his buddies, climbed awkwardly to his feet. Ah, somebody had decided to make a play. He was a tall, skinny man with a sleeve of really badly done tats and an adam’s apple like a python that had swallowed a pig. He eased his way up to the girl, cleared his throat, and said, “Par’n me, miss. I thought I’d introduce myself. I’m Bug. Can I buy you a drink?”

The woman grinned at him, completely unflustered. “Hi, Bug. I’m Faith. And I would be happy to have a drink with you. In fact, I think some shots are called for, and as I’ve had an especially good day - first round’s on me. Let the lady do the buying.”

Eliot hid his smile behind a hasty gulp of beer. She had just turned things around on the man in a way guaranteed not to offend, and which didn’t trap her into any sort of closer involvement with the guy than she might want. Clever. And observant, too - she noticed Eliot noticing, and shot him a sideways glance that was full of what his momma used to call “devilment.” Well, what the fuck. Let’s see where the night led. He picked up the shot that the barmaid was distributing, and tipped it back, saluting Faith with the glass. “Next round’s on me.” The guys around the pool table cheered.

It turned out that, after many, many, many, many more shots, the night led to a stompy, enthusiastic, but not especially synchronized country line dance, homemade karaoke (Walter, one of the feed store guys, insisted on singing along to every “tear in my beer” ballad he could find on the jukebox), a few good-natured rounds of pool, which ended in Faith ruthlessly whipping the asses of every challenger, a long confessional from Bug about...something (Eliot missed the start of the story, and by the time he tuned in, it seemed to involve a pet rabbit and somebody’s kid sister), and a spirited round of arguing about whether or not the Packers were going to the Super Bowl. In between, Faith had started making certain things very clear to Eliot, starting with a lot of eye-contact and moving quickly into the “lingering touches along the forearm” kind of territory. Eliot was starting to feel a bit swimmy from the focused attention - surely it wasn’t the whiskey, he had stopped tossing back shots a while ago, now - and wondering if the bed back at his bungalow would fit two. When the jukebox launched into a slower song, Faith grabbed Eliot’s wrist in an unexpectedly strong grip, and dragged him out onto the dance floor.

“Let’s dance.”

“I don’t know,” he said, laughing. “You’re such a shy, retiring lassie that I’m afraid of being too forward.”

“I know. I’m a delicate flower. And you’ve got a cute ass. Are we dancing, here?”

He put his arms around her and she swayed against him, her body radiating heat. The contact made his pulse kick up, and suddenly all his clothing felt too tight. She was wearing something spicy that still clung to her, underneath the smells of cigarette smoke and booze, and he pulled her more tightly against him, his nose in her hair so he could inhale it deeply. And then...he froze.

“Faith? Should I ask why you have a fucking big knife strapped to yourself?”

Faith leaned back and squinted at him. “You’re not supposed to ask a lady personal questions, Eliot. Especially when you’ve got two knives on you, plus one in your boot, and thus might be considered just a teensy bit hypocritical with said personal questions. Plus” - she thumped one of Eliot’s biceps - “I’d bet dollars to frosted doughnuts with jelly inside that you’re pretty handy in a fight.”

“Uh...”

She smiled sweetly at him. “What, I wasn’t supposed to notice? Dearie me, shall I ever be a proper girl?”

Eliot let out a short bark of laughter and Faith laughed along with him. “Yeah, I thought so.” She slid her hand up his neck, fingernails scratching lightly, and he shuddered. “Feel like some company for the night, stranger-I’m-picking-up-in-a-bar?” Her breath was warm against his cheek.

Eliot leaned in for a long, deep kiss that flashed heat through him. “I would really enjoy it, mystery-lady-with-the-big-knife.”

The bang of the bar’s front door startled them both. The feed store men and their ladies had apparently decided to call it a night. In fact, the bar was empty, save for the bikers and themselves, and two of the bikers were just now slinging a third between them and stumbling out the door as well, presumably to their own bungalow. Bug had passed out, face down on the table. The song on the jukebox faded out, and suddenly the place was quiet. And...darker, for some reason? Had some of the lights dimmed? There seemed to be more shadows in the room, hiding the corners, dimming the neon signs.

He was suddenly on alert, and next to him, Faith had tensed, just as aware of the sudden wrongness of the place.

The barmaid, Elva, reappeared from the kitchen. Hands on hips, she looked at the near-empty room, and suddenly Eliot was certain that things were about to go very bad, but he couldn’t figure out why or how. Elva kept smiling, but her eyes had changed somehow, holding a cold malice that made him shudder.

Faith mumbled something under her breath that seemed oddly...exasperated? That couldn’t be right. Meanwhile, Elva had taken a couple more steps into the room, her motion oily.

“What, is the party over?” And what a fun night it was, too.” Elva sidled over to Bug’s unconscious form. “And this poor young man has had so much to drink. Lucky that I like the taste...”

And Eliot saw, to his great horror, her face change even further. Her human features twisted, great ridges appearing over her brow and between her eyes. Her eyes, a milky blue, turned yellow. And, most terrifyingly of all, a pair of fangs sprouted between her lips as she pulled Bug’s head back by the hair, exposing his neck. He stood, frozen, for the first time in his life completely shocked into stillness. She was...what was...what the fuck...

In that moment, Faith struck. With a crazy, inhuman leap, she was across the room, hurling the transformed Elva into a wall with shattering force. Elva’s body splintered the wall and she slid to the floor, and, unbelievably, grunted, clambered to her feet, and lunged at Faith, moving faster than anything Eliot had ever seen. She grabbed Faith’s arms from behind, twisting them back and up, her fingers clawing bloody gashes into Faith’s skin. For a moment, Faith struggled to free herself, caught at an awkward angle where she couldn’t get leverage.

Eliot shook himself out of his paralysis at the sight. Grabbing a pool cue, he whipped it in a wide, flat arc, sending it cracking along Elva’s back. The thing yowled like a scalded cat and twisted away, her grip on Faith’s arms loosening. Faith planted her feet and bucked, and Elva staggered, falling sideways and right into the way of a hammering blow Faith sent rocketing into her face. With another unearthly yowl, Elva flew backwards to the floor. In a blur of movement, Faith grabbed the pool cue from Eliot, cracked it over her knee, and with no hesitation whatsoever, jammed the splintered end into Elva’s chest. Elva screamed, shuddered, and...

Nothingness. Dust. For a second, the outline of her body hung in the air, and then her body vanished entirely. A fine ash now coated the floor, but no body, which was...which was not possible. There had been a woman there, and then a crazy nightmare thing, and now, a handful of minutes later, nobody at all. Eliot stumbled backwards a few paces, staring at Faith, who was not nearly as upset as she should have been about what had just happened.

“What. The fuck. Is going on.”

Faith sighed, and dropped the broken pieces of the pool cue. “God, sometimes you just can’t get a day to yourself without work interfering. C’mon. Let’s go to your room. I’m sick of the smell of booze.”

********

“So. I’m going to tell you some things that aren’t really common knowledge. It’s not exactly a secret, it’s just that the human brain doesn’t do so well with them, you know? So it gets chalked up to kids on PCP, or gas leaks, or something, But I figure you’ll be able to handle it.”

Faith had settled him on his own bed, and gone into the bathroom. He sat there, trying to center his breathing and calm the fuck down as she showered quickly and came out with damp hair and a t-shirt that read “Sunnydale High” on the front. It hung down to her knees, and made her look like the girl next door instead of the sensual bad girl that had walked into the bar so many hours ago.

“Go get a shower, dude. We’ll talk after you settle down some. Most people don’t get to walk away from that kind of shit, so I get that you’re shaken up.” He had noticed, as he walked past her to step into the bathroom, that the scratches on her arms looked much more shallow than he swore they had been before. As if they had begun healing already.

Eliot had blankly scrubbed at himself, pulled on some gym shorts, and emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam.

“All right. I’m calm. And I really, really want to know what in the hell that was that you just...killed? back there. Because I’ve never seen anything like that and I’m pretty sure I never want to again.”

Faith looked at him, nodded, and pulled him down next to her on the bed where she sat cross-legged against the headboard. He wrapped an arm around her waist, and although he’d never have admitted it, her solid presence was comforting.

“So, um. That was a vampire. Your first question, right? And yeah, they’re creatures of myth and legend, not real things, yadda yadda. Except they’re totally real, and I’m one of the things that gets to kill them.”

Eliot’s voice was a croak. “You’re a...thing that kills them? What kind of thing, exactly?”

“Damn, I guess I should have phrased that better. Might indicate a teensy bit of self-loathing on my part. I’m mostly human, I guess. But I have a few more options installed than the regular package has. I can bench-press a Buick, for one. And I’ve been trained up to do the job.” She looked over onto the dresser, where the knife he had noticed on her was now sitting. “I got shown all the fun ways to kill a vamp.Knives are useful, and all, but it’s harder to get a clean beheading without a sword, and those are a bitch to conceal. So we usually resort to staking them. Take off the head, or stake them through the heart. Bodies go poof no matter how you kill them. Makes cleanup a snap.”

“I don’t want to believe any of this, Faith. This is some high-grade crazy shit you’re spouting right here.”

She nodded. “I get that. And if you want, you’re totally free to turn this into the night that loony chick dropped LSD in your beer and you tripped your balls off.”

Eliot shook his head. “It’s crazy shit, but I know what I saw. She had fangs. And you staked her, and her body turned to dust. I can’t spin that into some sort of hallucination. What the hell is a vampire doing out here in the ass-end of nowhere?”

“When you think about it, she had a pretty sweet setup. Transient traffic, easy to pick off people who move around a lot, maybe people nobody will miss. Vamps work on the same principles as your average human serial killer, really.”

He thought about it, and as he did, she squirmed under his arm, tucking herself against him so her head rested on his shoulder. “Thanks for the assist, by the way. You handled yourself pretty well. Most people lock up completely, which adds evidence to my theory that you’ve got some skills of your own.”

Eliot pondered how to reply to that. Finally, he said simply, “I used to work for Uncle Sam. Got myself trained in a few strange things here and there myself. I work on my own now. But, I have to say...vampires never really entered the picture.”

“Ah, the old government-trained assassin thing.” When Eliot stiffened, she poked him. “Hey, I’m not judging, here. We all have our own paths to walk. I’m a mystical killing machine, who am I to say anything? Anyway, Buf- a girl I know dated a supersoldier type. Mondo freaky, but what can you do?.”

Eliot laughed, startled. “I don’t...I can’t...you just have a different outlook on life, don’t you?”

Faith shrugged, and nestled more closely against him, which caused her shirt to slide up and exposing a span of thigh. She was, it was quite clear, not wearing any undies at all under the tent-like shirt. “Right now, Eliot, I’m just happy to have gotten through another day. And I’d like to end it in a way that’s more fun than how it began.”

“Point made.” He pulled her upwards and she purred with delight, straddling his lap so he could lean forward and kiss her, his tongue playing along her lower lip as she slid her arms along his chest and around his neck. He was hard, abruptly - hard to aching, and she moved her hips in a slow figure eight on top of him, chuckling as he let out a strangled moan and slid his hands over her ass to pull her against him more tightly.

“See, the thing is,” she whispered, her cheek pressed to his, “I used to be the type to burn quick and hot, slam, bam, we’re done here. But as I’ve gotten older and wiser” - she licked the rim of his ear and then bit down on his earlobe, making him swear and laugh at the same time, “- I’ve learned to appreciate taking my own sweet time.”

She slid down the length of his body, taking his gym shorts with her as she went. Her mouth was cool, and as her lips slid over his cock he shuddered, tangling his hands in her hair. She teased him for what seemed like hours, her tongue shaping an exquisite torture everywhere it went. She seemed to have an uncanny knowledge of when he was too close, and would pull back, laughing heartlessly as he groaned underneath her. Then she would begin again, taking him deeply into her mouth until he was panting, his hips making small jerking motions. When she lifted her head away, the absence of sensation was a physical ache.

She started licking her way back up his chest until they were kissing again, her body pressed tightly against his. He pulled away long enough to yank off her t-shirt, revealing a pair of breasts that were everything the snug shirt from earlier had promised. He got a little revenge by tugging at her nipples, first gently and then with a little more force as she squirmed on top of him. They were both slick with sweat, her body gleaming in the dim light of the room.

He tried to roll, to tuck her underneath him, but she put her hands on his shoulder and leaned, pinning him to the bed without seeming to exert any effort at all.

“You weren’t...kidding about the strength thing, were you?” The last few words came out in a strangled croak as he felt her wetness slide over his cock. So close...but still she continued to tease until he thought he’d scream, rubbing herself against him, leaning forward to kiss him, her breasts pressing against his chest.

"Nope. Kind of a turn-on, isn’t it?" She slid her hands down his arms to his wrists, and in a quick movement drew them up over his head, holding him down while she tortured him ruthlessly.

He was finally reduced to begging.

“I can’t...Faith, god. Fuck me, woman.” She laughed, and finally relented, lowering herself onto his cock, her thighs clasping tightly against his. She rode him like a cowboy on a bronco, her hips doing things that were almost certainly impossible. Eventually, she freed his wrists, and he reached forwards to hold her waist and then brush his thumb over her clit, rubbing as she gasped. "Oh, god, fuck. Fuck, that's good. Fuck me, Eliot."

He growled and rolled, finally trapping her underneath him so he could thrust into her ferociously, their bodies slamming together. She wound her legs around his waist, and again he was struck by her strength - all that power contained inside her, all focused on him. His thrusts were met by her body arching up to meet him, fucking him just as intently as he fucked her, the two of them finding their rhythm and losing themselves in it completely. The world went white, and he came, hands making fists in the sheet on either side of her body, feeling her shudder underneath him. Her lips moved against his shoulder as she said something, but he couldn’t hear it over the roaring in his ears.

She let him rest, briefly. The sun came up before they finally slept, intertwined in a sticky tangle of limbs and sheets. And when he woke, hours...eons...later, he was alone.

The note on the table read,

“Eliot,
Sorry to continue the woman of mystery thing, but sometimes the shoe fits. Doubtful I’ll ever see you again, but the world’s smaller than we realize. If you ever need assistance along the lines of last night, give a ring to the phone number on this card. And no, not THAT kind of assistance, Giles would be so shocked.

Love,
Faith”

He tucked the card away in a hidden pocket. An hour later, he was back on the highway.

It's hard being Nate Ford sometimes...

telaryn — Sat, 03 Dec 2011 11:35:55 GMT

Fic Title: Unexpected Understandings
Vid Title: On the Outside
Author: telaryn
Created for: elshadowboxer for the 2011 leverage_sesa exchange.
Fic Rating: NC-17
Characters: Nate/Eliot
Word Count: 1,887
Spoilers: Pre-series, set at the beginning of Sam's illness. Eliot and Nate are on opposite sides of the law, and Nate is starting his downward spiral.
Warnings: Oral sex, bondage, dub-con
Disclaimer: No ownership claimed, no profit earned.
Fic Summary: Nate ends up on the wrong side of the situation while pursuing Eliot Spencer. While subduing his pursuer, Eliot realizes something unexpected about the well-known insurance investigator.

Nathan Ford had a goal he’d held close to his chest for years. Once in his professional life, he wanted to chase Eliot Spencer and not end up on the wrong side of the situation.

This particular pursuit wasn’t looking to turn out any better for him. When he finally regained consciousness, Nate was lying face down on a dirty concrete floor. His head was throbbing, and every muscle in his body appeared to have gone on strike. Dimly he realized someone was crouched next to him, binding his wrists and ankles together.

Son of a… Adrenaline shot through him, tensing every muscle in his body for a moment, and making him cry out in pain.

“Take it easy.” His captor’s voice was an easy Midwestern drawl. Oklahoma, Nate recalled, details of Spencer’s file coming to him automatically. Deft fingers finished binding him; Nate pulled reflexively against the cord, but there was no slack at all, and the way Eliot had tied him up left him no room to maneuver.

Eliot shifted position over him, and combed his fingers through the tangle of Nate’s hair. “How’s your head?” Nate understood that he was looking for a lump, but the gesture was impossibly soothing. Still somewhat disoriented, Nate moaned softly, leaning into the other man’s touch.

The questing fingers paused for a moment, and then tightened into a fist – tugging experimentally on his curls. Nate stopped breathing for a second, closing his eyes as he struggled against an unexpected surge of hormones. Oh God – not now..please… He’d known at the time it was a bad idea to let Sterling talk him into bed last night, but Nate had never been able to hide when the stress was getting to him. The choice between a bottle of cheap whiskey while they were on a job and letting Sterling tie him up and fuck him senseless had seemed an easy one at the time.

Unfortunately now, it meant that his body was reacting in entirely the wrong way to being subdued and bound by his target. “Interesting,” Eliot murmured, tugging again. This time Nate couldn’t stop the small, gasping moan that escaped his throat.

“Stop,” he said quietly, still not trusting himself to look at Spencer. Belatedly he added, “please.”

He heard the quiet whisper of Eliot’s boots sliding across the dusty concrete. “Look at me.”

It was stupid to refuse, but Nate’s first impulse was to do exactly that. With each passing moment his body was demanding more things that his brain couldn’t allow. Spencer would see that in his eyes – Nate knew the man’s file as well as he knew anything in this life, and that was the truth of it. He would see Nate’s conflict, and tied up like this Nate would be helpless to stop him taking advantage of it.

The idea of Eliot taking advantage of it - of him - sent a stab of pleasure straight to his rebellious cock. God, please, this is not happening, he thought, looking up at last.

The eyes that met his held the only hint of expression in the younger man’s face. They were contemplative – studying Nate, considering his responses, and deciding what to do about it. Silence stretched painfully between them; Nate knew that in his current state if he said a single word that wasn’t a direct answer to a direct question, it was all over.

“Where’s your partner?”

“Don’t know.” It was the best answer Nate could give; the fact that it happened to be the truth was irrelevant to the situation.

He imagined he saw the hint of a smile on Eliot’s lips. “He the one that leave you worked up like this?” The question was punctuated by Spencer digging his fingers into the curve of Nate’s ass and dragging deep furrows across the bruises Sterling had left there the night before. The combination of pleasure, pain and humiliation was so overwhelming Nate lost control of himself long enough to choke out a strangled “yes”. His hips rose, following Eliot’s movements, and Nate whimpered softly at the feel of his erection dragging against the hard, unyielding concrete.

“Very interesting,” Eliot said, a slight touch of amusement coloring the words. “That’s a pretty dick move, not taking care of you when he had the chance.” There was a soft “snick”, and Nate saw the glint of metal at the edge of his vision. Knife…oh God… Spencer caught his full attention again. “Question is now, what am I going to do about it?”

Nate swallowed hard. “Nothing,” he said. “The best thing all around is for you to walk away.”

Eliot did laugh at that. “That’s not what you want me to do though, is it?” He shifted out of Nate’s view for a second – Nate’s heart leapt when he realized Spencer was cutting his ankles free, but fell immediately again as soon as he realized all the things that were suddenly possible with only his hands out of commission.

“Tell the truth,” Eliot said, moving back fully into view. “Tell me you’re lying there thinking about all the different ways I could get you off.”

He was and Nate knew Eliot could see it, but he couldn’t make himself say the words. After a moment though, Eliot seemed to reach a decision. “I’m not following where Sterling’s gone – not on purpose anyway,” he said, idly tracing the swell of Nate’s lower lip with the tip of one finger. “That mouth of yours though…I could do that.” He smiled lazily. “I like that. Next time Sterling’s pounding your ass, you’ll be thinking of me and how I tasted when I shoved my cock in your mouth and made you swallow my come.

The look in his eyes, the gentle brush of his skin, the casual way he talked about them fucking – Nate suddenly couldn’t breathe around how much he wanted to do this. He was so hard, physical discomfort was starting to push into genuine pain. “I won’t make you say yes,” Eliot said, pulling his hand back and studying Nate thoughtfully. “But from this point on, you can say no. Understand?”

Nate nodded before he could give himself a chance to second guess what he was agreeing to. Eliot’s smile was pleased now. “Never would have thought,” he said, pushing to his feet with a groan. “Everybody thinks you’re such a straight shooter.”

“No pun intended?” Nate asked – which surprised a bark of laughter from the other man.

“No pun intended,” he agreed.

It took some doing for them to get Nate up and on his knees. His headache had faded, but he was still unsteady. Eliot was surprisingly patient with him, making sure he was as comfortable as possible, under the circumstances. It was almost enough to lull Nate into forgetting whose mercy he was at, until Eliot fisted a hand in his hair again; jerking his head back at a painful angle.

Nate cried out, tears springing to his eyes. “Just so there’s no misunderstanding,” Eliot said roughly, leaning in close, “if you double cross me or use your teeth I will make you regret it. Understand?”

He was holding on too tight to allow Nate to nod. “Yes,” he whimpered, the sound strangled by the awkward angle of his throat. “God, yes.”

He was released just as quickly as Eliot had grabbed him; Nate blinked away tears of pain, dimly aware of Eliot getting to his feet. The sound of a zipper close to his ear sent a tremor shivering through his body. Oh God.

Eliot was standing in front of him now, slowly fisting his half-hard cock. “I wish you could see yourself right now,” he murmured, his breath hitching slightly as he jacked himself. “You can do so much better than Sterling, you know that?”

Before Nate could say anything, Eliot stepped in – brushing the head of his cock across Nate’s lips. He opened immediately, leaning forward as Eliot thrust into him. The salty tang of pre-come ghosted across his tongue as he swallowed almost the entire length of the younger man’s shaft.

“Oh yeah,” Eliot groaned. His fingers tangled in Nate’s curls again, but when he tugged it was more encouragement than threat. “Just like I thought. This is not the first time somebody’s fucked your mouth.”

Nate closed his eyes, feeling his cheeks flame hot. Spencer wasn’t wrong. It wasn’t Sterling – they didn’t tend to do much that involved them being face to face – but Nate had blown other guys before. Never like this, though. He relaxed his throat and shifted position just enough to be able to take Eliot as deep as possible.

“You do that, I’m not gonna last.” Eliot’s voice had gone breathy after a couple of strokes. Nate moaned around his cock, half drunk on the rush of what they were doing and the effect he was starting to have on Eliot. Spencer’s hand in his hair clenched and released convulsively as his thrusts became harder and sharper.

For several minutes, the only sounds filling the empty warehouse were Eliot’s soft moans and sighs of pleasure, and the thick, wet sound of Nate sucking him off.

Just as Nate’s head was starting to swim from the effort of keeping ahead of Eliot’s thrusts, he felt his balls tighten pleasurably between his thighs. Hollowing his cheeks, he sucked as hard as he could – trying not to get distracted by the fact that he was suddenly coming in a thick, warm spill.

“Fuck,” Eliot groaned, grabbing Nate’s head with both hands and holding him perfectly still. His cock twitched and pulsed against Nate’s tongue, then suddenly Eliot’s come was filling his throat as fast as he could swallow.

Nate was sobbing for breath by the time Eliot pulled free of him. The taste of the younger man filled his mouth and throat, and his scent overwhelmed Nate’s senses. Dammit… It was the most coherent thought he could muster, sagged almost double – the cord binding his wrists cutting into his skin. He was dimly aware of Eliot putting himself back together and zipping up his jeans, but a small army could have burst in on them in that moment for all Nate found the ability to care.

Time and awareness began to blur, then suddenly Eliot’s arms were around his shoulders – pulling him back and supporting him. “Hold still.” Spencer’s voice was quiet in his ear.

“You’re kidding, right?” Nate laughed shakily. “All I want to do is sleep.” He heard the soft snick of Eliot’s blade again, and felt the cool steel between his wrists.

“And I don’t want you to bleed,” Eliot said. There was a small tug, then Nate cried out in pain as his arms were released. “Easy,” Eliot murmured, helping him ease his arms forward.

“Now what?” Nate asked when his arms were hanging loosely at his side, content for the moment to let Eliot do the work of supporting him.

Spencer chuckled softly – the brush of sound against his ear made Nate shiver. “Now,” the younger man said, slipping his hand around the front of Nate’s throat and lightly squeezing, “you remember who you’re dealing with and don’t follow me.”

Before Nate could wonder if the other man really meant to kill him after all, Eliot had released him and vanished.