#THE ot3 of my heart

[literally-in-too-many-fandoms]

Wreck When I'm Without You

Fire Emblem: Three Houses Fanfic

characters: Linhardt von Hevring, Caspar von Bergliez, Ashe Ubert

Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff and Angst, Established Caspar/Linhardt Relationship, Polyamory

. The new year at Garreg Mach University brings a series of crises to the happy relationship of Linhardt von Hevring and Caspar Bergliez, and to Caspar's new lacrosse teammate, Ashe Ubert.

Between unexpectedly attractive teammates, getting cut off from family, and navigating new social situations, these three are going to navigate an eventful year. And as we all know, the best solution to any problem is to panic and avoid communicating your needs to the partners and friends who explicitly offer to care for you.

They'll figure it out, probably.

Chapter 1: all my emotions feel like explosions when you're around

Sophomore year of medical school was honestly two years further than Linhardt expected to ever get.  So even though that was when this tiny piece of perfection he’d carved out for himself began to crumble, Linhardt was merely grateful for the time he had had.

Okay, that was a lie. 

He was full-on panicking.

First, there was a series of emails from the university and his bank. 

[Tuition payment method has been changed] [Please confirm your billing method] [Your Upcoming Tuition Payment] [New Billing Statement Available] [PLEASE READ: Tuition payment options]

Second, there was the error message he got when he tried to message his father. 

The text chain was old: scattered check-ups with one-word responses, a message on the holidays and birthdays.  The last text was dated three months prior, when his father had asked him to come home for a distant relative’s funeral.  Linhardt had begged off with an excuse about a term paper.  His father had responded that of course, he should prioritize his studies, as long as his civic engineering minor wouldn’t impede his business major.  Now, his newest message bounced.  A physical representation of how it always felt to communicate with his father.

Third, Caspar was shouting (this was not unusual) that they were out of milk again (this was also not unusual) and asking Linhardt to order some from the store pretty please (this was also also not unusual). 

What was unusual was that as Caspar stumbled into the room, pulling his jacket on one shoulder, a piece of toast hanging out of his mouth, he stopped before he approached Linhardt’s bed.  Usually, Caspar did not hesitate before bodily scooping him out of his blanket cocoon, ignoring Linhardt’s protestations.  This was their deal.  Caspar would wake him up before practice or games on Saturdays, because otherwise Linhardt was liable to sleep through the whole day without seeing his boyfriend, given that Caspar had work in the evening.  Linhardt would not protest too much because this was what he wanted from university.  Good research, and the chance to be with Caspar.

What hurt most about it, was Linhardt had been excited about today.  His next research project for school was interesting.  New data from Lysithea, who was the bright star up and coming in the biomed department, with her statistics background.  Professor Hanneman had suggested some promising studies on the degenerative disease which linked to certain “crest” genes.  He’d been up late studying and was looking forward to waking up in order to read more.

But then he’d glanced at the cascade of emails.  His father’s radio silence.  And now Caspar was hesitating, eyes caught on his.  Caspar was, for all his faults, unerringly honest.  Linhardt had never known him to hesitate.

There was a honk from outside. 

“von Bergliez!  Do not make me tell our lovely team captain that you made us late again!���

And then Caspar blinked, and the hesitation was gone; he swooped over, one arm under Linhardt’s knees while the other tucked the blanket around his shoulders and lifted him up and close to Caspar’s chest.  He started talking around the piece of toast in his mouth.  It was spraying crumbs across Linhardt’s favorite blanket, and it was somehow still endearing.  “—‘n can you help me wi’ the one reading assignment for Prof Eisner, I know I can read, but in their class I feel like I can’t—”

It was almost lucky that Caspar didn’t give him even a breath to respond, because Linhardt couldn’t formulate words.  There was no space in his brain between the sudden onslaught of nerves that those emails had inflicted.  One thought screamed he needed to tell Caspar right now because rent was due soon and Linhardt didn’t have a job or steady income if his father had cut him off.  Another thought choked it, that Caspar could never know because Caspar was putting himself through college on a partial lacrosse scholarship and part-time job for Linhardt.  Caspar was at Garreg Mach because of Linhardt and if Linhardt failed at this, all his work would be for nothing.

There was a breath of quiet weightlessness in Caspar’s arms before he deposited him on Linhardt’s favorite study spot, the corner of the couch with the good pillow behind his back.  There was already a cup of tea on the coffee table.  Caspar swallowed the last of the toast and pressed a kiss to his forehead.  “—Thanks again Lin!  Text you after the game, I’ll try not to need stitches again this time!”

And then Caspar was gone, the whirlwind out the door, accidentally scraping the doorframe for the nth time with his lacrosse stick on the way out.

Linhardt was stuck in the aftermath.  The house was silent.  There was birdsong outside, the robins startling to trickle back after the winter.  Ferdinand’s and Caspar’s yelling from the car before it drove away, blasting what had to be Dorothea’s music from the speakers.  But the house held that kind of quiet after a storm had blown through.  Usually Caspar was the only storm that inhabited.  This time, the winds howled inside Linhardt’s head.

He took a deep breath.  Deep breaths were conducive to clear thinking.  Linhardt had learned breathing exercises early.  They got him through high school, through panic attacks, through the worst possible dinner parties that his dad’s company hosted.  The winds quieted.  They still swirled, thoughts like detritus cast back and forth across his head, each important and incomprehensible.

The first one to parse was not the clear-cut, easy to understand bank statements. 

No, the first thing that his mind wrapped itself around was the quiet knife through his ribcage that his father had blocked his number, and cut him out entirely.  It was not surprising.  Waldemar was a proud executive of his own company, from a long line of graduates from Garreg Mach’s school of business.  He had one plan for Linhardt, one that allowed no deviances.  Waldemar had thrived under the same plan; Linhardt had long since stopped trying to convince his father that the same path would only choke him.  There was a sense of loss there, but it was muted.  He’d resigned himself to this outcome when he’d committed to trying med school out for the hope of his own future.  He’d thought, in some abstract way, that his father would at least have the dignity to text him first.  Call.  Ask for an explanation.  Not just slam the door and leave Linhardt virtually penniless on the other side.

The second to make its way to manageable in his head was the university emails.  They were easy to follow.  Fake-sympathetic language about his payment being declined.  About the grace period while he arranged for the next payment.  The number of zeroes on the tuition payment stacked up like stones in his throat.  They far outnumbered his current bank statement.

This spawned quieter questions in the back of his head.  How fast could he get a job, could he juggle the major and minor and honors and a job, how much was this going to impact his sleep schedule?  If he couldn’t make it through university, would he be stuck at a dead-end job til he died of a disease he should’ve been treating as a doctor?

Eventually, Linhardt extracted one arm out of his blanket cocoon and reached over with slow hands to the mug of tea which Caspar had left for him. 

It was in Linhardt’s favorite mug, with a cartoonish fish that said “Women want me, fish fear me”, except Caspar had taken a sharpie to it and crossed out “women” and wrote his own name.  The tea had long since gone tepid.

There was a tight grip of cold fingers wrapped around his stomach, but Linhardt quietly diagnosed it as psychosomatic and likely the aftermath of not having any solid food in almost 24 hours and then extreme emotional stress.  He took a sip of lukewarm tea that had steeped too long, but it was soothing on his throat.

The one tumbleweed left bouncing between his ears was Caspar’s hesitation this morning.  Was he nervous about the first game of the new semester?  No, that wasn’t like him.  And no assignment had ever stumbled Caspar truly, for all that he struggled in any subject that wasn’t his practical classes for sports medicine.

No answer rose to him, no matter how long he tossed it back and forth. 

And Linhardt had always understood Caspar, had been close enough to him in their childhoods to see him in every mood, and had long since discovered that Caspar’s relentless optimism and drive ignited something in Linhardt himself.  They’d been together since junior year of high school, when Caspar burst into his room and said a very long string of words which amounted to him having a conversation with Dorothea and she had told him that boys could have boyfriends too, and Caspar had run directly to Linhardt’s house to ask him to date him.

And that was the thought that haunted him, even as Linhardt put away his med books and started planning to save his future from collapsing around his ears.  The thought that there was something about Caspar he didn’t know or understand.

////////////////////////////

Caspar was having a crisis.  This was pretty new to him, all things considered, since the last problem he couldn’t solve by yelling or fighting was also the one he’d worn the longest, and to this day he didn’t know how to shake off his father’s dismissal.  He’d yelled his way through a sexuality crisis in high school, through finding a part time job, through 5am lacrosse practices, just to name a few.  Crises he couldn’t solve by yelling were not usual.

The current crisis was just a few inches taller than him, had silver hair, and had managed to win Edelgard’s respect within the first half-hour of the new season of lacrosse with his pinpoint accuracy. 

Now, falling for the new guy on the lacrosse team was maybe not as big of a crisis as it once might have been.  It wouldn’t have been a problem at all, were it not for the sleepy pile of blankets and green hair which Caspar had left at the house this morning.  See, Caspar and Linhardt had not much talked about their relationship; their friendship had morphed naturally into something more after the year in high school when Caspar realized it was possible to like guys.  They already knew each other so well that there was no need for discussion or boundary-setting.  Linhardt had kissed him once on the forehead, shocking Caspar into three minutes of stunned silence, and then it was smooth sailing for the rest of their partnership.  Moving in together at college hadn’t even been a conversation—especially since it was the only way Caspar could afford to not live on campus. 

So, it wasn’t so much that liking Ashe was a problem.  It was that he liked both Ashe AND Linhardt, and had no idea how to bring up the conversation with his boyfriend, without potentially breaking something he couldn’t live without.  Sometimes Caspar felt left behind by his boyfriend’s genius, or maybe just that he was running a different race entirely and had no real context for how far ahead of him Linhardt stood.  He knew Linhardt wouldn’t drop him, no matter that they were in different sports.  But sometimes when he saw the way Hubert and Ferdinand smirked in the same way when they won a match together, and he wondered if Linhardt would always be happy with him in a different arena. 

He and Linhardt worked because they’d never known life without each other.  Too much change, and Linhardt might realize there were other paths of less resistance. 

But Caspar had managed to get Ashe to smile before their match, and Caspar’s heart had raced. 

Ashe had dimples.  His quiet chuckle filled Caspar’s chest and then when it morphed into a full-blown laugh, Caspar felt the same warmth of pride as when he managed to get Linhardt to smile.  And their friendship felt almost as comfortable: they both babied the stray cat which haunted the gym and when Ashe admitted to feeding it in the mornings, Caspar had grinned and shown him the bag of cat food which he stored at the front desk for that express purpose.  Ashe tutored him in literature class.  Caspar had become Ashe’s unofficial tour guide around the school.

The additional problem was that Ashe’s calendar was formatted the same as Linhardt’s.  They color-coordinated their notes in similar patterns.  And Ashe laughed at the same jokes which made Linhardt chuckle.

There was some math in there that Caspar couldn’t figure out.  Him and Ashe were great friends, and Caspar couldn’t stop wanting more.  Ashe and Linhardt had never interacted and it was simultaneously Cas’s greatest hope and deepest nightmare that they would.

“Eagles,” Edelgard’s voice cut through Ashe’s laughter.  She was getting ready to give her pre-game speech.  Caspar’s heart was still racing.  Petra nudged him, and he knew his cheeks must be burning too—hopefully she’d think he was just hyped up for their first match of the season.  He always got a little too into it, as Hubert said.  “Form up!”

Ashe continued to grin as they walked over.  Caspar wanted to pin that smile to his jersey collar.

Edelgard was talking—something about “a strong start to the season means more than simple numbers on the scoreboard” or some such—and Ashe was listening intently.  Caspar, not so much.  Edelgard’s pre-game pep talks were not important, he’d come to realize.  He needed to listen to her during games and needed to pay attention if Hubert started looking like he was going to strangle Caspar with his own intestines (this was a separate look from his usual murder-face).  But right now, Hubert had his smug smirk as though he’d helped Edelgard write this pep talk.  Right now, Caspar could bounce back and forth on the balls of his feet to get out the constant energy thrumming in his veins (while glancing intermittently at Ashe’s focused expression, because he realized that Ashe’s freckles were brighter in the sunlight).

“—and I am proud to be an Eagle, on this, the start of our new season!”

The rest of them gave a pre-match battle cry, as across the field the opposing team did the same.  Caspar was a moment behind, but they moved as one out on to the field.  It was still too early in the year for the warm spring and the best field conditions, but it hadn’t rained in a few days and the chill was easily driven away by the weak sun and the way Caspar’s whole nervous system lit on fire when Ashe nudged him—and Caspar physically had to shake his head, shove the warmth away, because there was a hole in the pit of his stomach at the thought of Linhardt shutting the door in his face.

The opponents were some no-name team from a no-name college which Caspar only knew because Linhardt had laughed when he’d gotten their letters in senior year.  Linhardt had gotten a lot of those college letters in senior year.  If Caspar asked, he’d tell him about their programs or look up their lacrosse team.  He’d offer to call them on Caspar’s behalf.  To ask about their scholarships.  But Caspar only applied to Garreg Mach.  Their lacrosse program was not the best, nor did they offer the best scholarships.  But once he knew that was where Linhardt was going, that was the only option for him.  And he’d been happier the past two years than he could ever remember being before.

So Caspar shook his head again, only nodded in return to Ashe’s mildly nervous smile.  He readied his lacrosse stick and fell in behind Edelgard at the line.  If he couldn’t fight or yell his way out of this crisis, he would ignore it.  And one day he’d learn to bear it like he bore his father’s lack of interest.

That day was not today though, because Caspar kept getting so distracted by Ashe’s freckles that he managed to get clocked over the head when the opposing team checked him. 

They finished the match but Caspar’s vision was still swimming.  Petra was worriedly buzzing around him and Edelgard was muttering something disparaging, but the only thing Caspar could focus on was Ashe’s face.

“Caspar, are you okay?”

Cas grinned back, unable to contain it.  “We win?”

Petra sighed and Hubert said something that contained a lot of numbers and statistics but amounted to yes. 

“Then… ‘M doin��� great!”

“Guys, I think he might have a concussion,” Ashe said, and turned away to look at Edelgard, at Coach Jeritza.  Caspar frowned, and reached out for him again.  Ashe obediently grabbed his elbows again, kept him upright.  Caspar was delighted to find that he could support his weight.  Ashe was so strong!

“Yes, he is having a concussion again.” Petra said, and Caspar realized with horror he probably said that aloud.

“Take him back to his place, Linhardt will take care of him,” Edelgard said.

Somewhere in his mind, part of him balked at that.  Wasn’t that the thing that he was so preoccupied about this morning?  But right now, Ashe was warm, and Caspar could lean against him.  And if they were back at his place, Linhardt could help—Linhardt always helped.  Caspar wanted to know if he and Ashe took their tea the same way.

“—you don’t need tea, Caspar, you need a nurse,” Ashe was saying, but Ferdinand and Edelgard were talking over both of them, and before Caspar knew what else was going on, they had bundled him into Ferdinand’s car. 

////////////////////////////

The semester was going “great.”  It’s what he told Lonato on their weekly phone calls.  He liked his classes, and the profs were great.  The lacrosse team that he’d joined due to his little siblings’ gentle bullying was great.  The campus was great (though the food was only tolerable since he didn’t have his own kitchen and the dorm kitchen in terrible shape so he couldn’t cook anything) and he was making great friends.  These were not lies, technically.  Lonato always joked that he was losing his eloquence as a Lit major if everything was only “great.”

Ashe could amend those statements: His classes were interesting, and his profs were very supportive.  The lacrosse team was the perfect kind of insanity and only sometimes made him miss his old team.  The campus was something out of a fairy tale, all old stone and vines.  And he was making new friends, while ignoring the urge to make anything more than that with Caspar.  Those were also not lies.  And they gave a better impression that he was adjusting well to the sudden transfer to Garreg Mach halfway through his college career.

And he was!  Adjusting well.  Comparatively.

This particular Saturday morning was maybe the first time the whole semester that he’d thought about going back to Gaspard.  And it wasn’t that it was bad, per se.  Today had been good, a strong opening match to the season.  His teammates were wonderful, and Caspar had been in rare form: captivating in the way he moved, the way his erratic energy coalesced into an unstoppable force on the field.  Ashe was more than happy to have Caspar lean against him in the car, though he did not appreciate that Caspar had to be delirious with a probable concussion for it.

The problem was that they were going back to Caspar-and-Linhardt’s house. 

Ashe knew that Caspar was in a relationship.  It was hard not to: Caspar talked about Linhardt like he’d hung the moon.  The other lacrosse teammates spoke of Linhardt often, hung out at their shared house off-campus on the weekends after practice.  Ashe always begged off.  He enjoyed his friendship with Caspar, and tried very hard to remind himself constantly that it could never be more than that.  Anytime Caspar-and-Linhardt came up, Ashe tried to be respectful.  He didn’t know if he was afraid that Linhardt was secretly a terrible person who Ashe could then resent, or that Linhardt was secretly the best person ever.  Or maybe he was afraid that Linhardt would see through him and know he had a crush on his boyfriend and banish Caspar from talking to him ever again.  Whichever outcome, it would change the easy friendship he had with Caspar. 

But there he was, Caspar potentially injured beside him, bundled into the car as Ferdinand monologued, unconcerned, about some training plans he had discussed with Edelgard (which Edelgard was going to throw out the window, honestly).  He didn’t know how he’d got there.  Why hadn’t any of the other guys come with them?  Ashe didn’t want to take Caspar back to his house and meet his probably-perfect boyfriend and be immediately crushed that he’d be alone forever.  But Petra had plans afterwards with her partner, and Edelgard and Hubert were busy planning training regiments, and Caspar was already half-collapsed in Ashe’s arms.

To make everything worse, Ferdinand had hopped out long enough to open the door, and Ashe had started helping Caspar up the steps to Caspar-and-Linhardt’s house. 

It wasn’t until he had already knocked that he looked around to realize Ferdinand had gotten back into the car without him.  “Ferdinand?!”

Ferdie waved out the window.  “I am afraid I would be more harm than help in this case!  Linhardt has banished me from their place after last time, anyways.  Let me know when you need a pickup, and I will be over as swiftly as possible!”

“Ferdinand!” Ashe yelled, but the car was already pulling away.

He had just enough time to think longingly of the familiar streets of Gaspard, and his old friends who would never abandon him at a random house.

Then the door opened, and Ashe looked up to see a green-haired man in comfortable, cozy attire, with a disinterested eyebrow raised in question.

Ashe was not ashamed to admit it, but the second he laid eyes on Linhardt, he knew Caspar’s boyfriend was out of his league.  He had the perpetually tired look of all the other overachieving students Ashe knew, but there was the quality of his sweatshirt (nicer than all the ones Caspar wore), the three stacks of old Starbucks cups on the counter, the unimpressed way Linhardt glanced at the mud Ashe would be tracking into his home.  He looked like the kids that Christophe always complained—always used to complain about when he was dragged to Lonato’s fancy dinners.  He was pretty in the way that came with good genes and a good skincare routine.  He probably fit in well among Edelgard with her name-brand cleats, Ferdinand and his outdoorsman club membership.  Ashe was tired of meeting people at this school who could buy new textbooks instead of scrounging through Chegg for used copies or borrowing from a friend of a friend.

Then he shook his head, and tried to squash the instinctive vitriol in his heart.  After all, since Lonato had adopted him and his siblings, Ashe was one of them.  One among the echelon who could afford a big-name school.  And while Lonato only paid the (unfortunately large) portion of his tuition that wasn’t covered by student loans or Ashe’s job, Ashe was still doing better than most.  Better than he’d ever dreamed of.  And even his major—there was a quiet voice in his chest that told him constantly that he should be getting a “real” degree, that he was going to graduate and fall flat on his face in a world that didn’t pay you to read books.  Ashe was in no position to judge anyone for their socioeconomic status.

And then he realized he was still standing, dripping mud and possibly blood onto Caspar-and-Linhardt’s doormat, and Caspar was still mumbling deliriously about the game.

“Uh, I really don’t mean to intrude—” Ashe said, hating every second of this day that had led up to him being abandoned on this random doorstep. 

Technically, he didn’t even know that this actually was Caspar-and-Linhardt’s place.  Were the Eagles the type to haze?  Because this felt like it might be a hazing situation.  He didn’t think that Edelgard was the type, but then again she did get a really intense look in her eye when she talked about lacrosse that was only matched by her fervor in her poli-sci classes. 

“—Um, are you—is this Caspar’s house?  They said to bring him here but I tried to tell them he needed to see a nurse—”

Caspar stirred in his arms.  He shook his head, grinned in that all-consuming way that Ashe couldn’t help but enjoy looking at, and said the clearest sentence in the past hour: “No hospital, Lin’s got me!”

Ashe looked back at the green-haired man, who was still staring back with an unreadable expression.

“—And I don’t even know if you’re Linhardt,” Ashe said. 

“…Unfortunately, you’re at the right place,” Linhardt said, and finally uncrossed his arms.  His voice was languid, tone seemingly disinterested.  “And yes, that one is my problem to deal with, though I have considered dropping him at the ER if he gets concussed again.”

“Nooo, Lin,” Caspar moaned, still leaning half of his weight on Ashe’s chest, blue eyes unable to keep focus on where Linhardt stood but clearly trying.  “Pl’s no more.  It’s… so boring in there.  But, but I’ll stay in m’ room.”

Linhardt rolled his eyes, but then stepped closer, and the first real expression crossed his face.  His dark gray eyes softened to something kind, and some endearment eased the worry line between his eyebrows.  “No, I’m not going to banish you to your room,” Linhardt said, only to shudder and draw back when he saw the streak of red down his boyfriend’s face.  “Urgh, but I’m not dealing with your blood on the couch again.”

Linhardt turned his eyes to Ashe’s, and he unconsciously straightened up.  It wasn’t the stare of someone looking down their nose at him.  If anything, it bordered on introspective, some analysis taking place that Ashe couldn’t comprehend. 

Whatever Linhardt saw in him, it must have sufficed, because he turned and gestured to the kitchen, sighing.  “Well, if you’re nice enough to help Cas through the door instead of dropping him at the doorstep like Hubert is wont to do, you’ll probably be willing to help me clean him up.  I’ll even give you our wifi password for it, if you’ll just get some paper towels and stop that head wound from bleeding.  Cas would probably buy you a coffee but I don’t feel like pay—waiting, for DoorDash right now.”

“I—” Ashe stuttered, stumbled in. 

He couldn’t help but look around in amazement at the living room; there were more medical textbooks in the shelves than in the library, a collection of novelty mugs decorated in between the stacks, and more pillows and blankets than seemed reasonable for any two people to own.  It was the coziest reading room he’d ever seen, and Ashe shoved down the instinctive desire to ask if he could come back here to read sometime.  There was even a bay window with a couch cushion on it!  Ashe was definitely going to have to bribe Caspar into letting him do some homework here.  “—Yes, I can help, but I’m not—I’m just a Lit major, I don’t know the first thing about medicine.”

Linhardt was already walking to the kitchen.  At some point he’d swiped the two bags of lacrosse gear that Ashe had been holding and lugged them over with difficulty to be dropped unceremoniously at the fireplace. 

“That didn’t stop this idiot from trying to give himself stitches the first time he got injured in a game, so I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Linhardt said.

Ashe looked down in horror at Caspar’s face.  For all that he was still visibly drooping, Cas gave him a loopy grin.  Ashe refused to acknowledge that his heart sped up at the expression.

“He did what?”

Ashe didn’t know Linhardt well enough yet to say, but he thought that the way his voice lightened, even as it kept a dry edge, might have been closer to affection.  “Oh yes.  Thankfully I found him before he used an actual sewing thread to close something that only needed a butterfly bandage, but ever since then, I insist he comes here for treatment.  He’d duck out of it if they took him to the nurse.  At least he listens to me, once in a while, or if all else fails I can sit in his lap to make him stop running around the house.”

The kitchen was slightly a mess, but Ashe was struck with jealousy.  An actual kitchen!  Ashe missed having a gas stove… and pots and pans.  There was a crockpot—dirty, caked with day-old food—but it was the brand that Ashe had always drooled over in the supply store.  The kitchen was a narrow thing, but there was lots of counterspace, and there was a clear line of sight back into the cozy living area, and then out into their medium-sized backyard.  There was an old lacrosse goal against the fence.  Ashe imagined Caspar trained out here.

Ashe had to close his eyes against the wave of longing.  He wanted to cook.  There was a certain piece of belonging that came only when you made something and brought it to a table for others to enjoy.  It didn’t need to be spoken; Ashe didn’t need someone to tell him he was good at cooking.  He just wanted people who dug into a meal and gathered strength and joy from shared laughter and shared food.

For a second, as Linhardt led them over next to the sink and pulled out a rather large first-aid kit from some cabinet, Ashe let the cozy-ness of the house pervade him.  The place was eminently lived-in, dirty dishes scattered around and post-it reminders stuck on every conceivable surface, novelty salt & pepper shakers on the table. 

And as he supported Caspar over to lean against the counter, Cas smiled at him—eyes still closed, trusting Ashe wouldn’t lead him wrong.  And he couldn’t help but smile at Linhardt in turn, who handed him some paper towels and gauze, gesturing wordlessly at Cas and digging through the first aid kit with his other hand—scarcely needing to glance or instruct, as though this was a normal routine.

Ashe obediently pressed the wet paper towel which Linhardt handed him against Caspar’s forehead.  The cut was small, and Cas barely winced, but Linhardt at least looked relieved when the blood was cleaned away.  Ashe was almost sad when the blood was cleared off and he had to remove his hand from Caspar’s cheek.

“Thanksss, love,” Cas mumbled, eyes still closed.

“Uh,” Ashe responded, eloquently.

Caspar’s eyes flew open—an actual cognizant expression on his face for the first time since the match.  “Ashe!  Hi!”

Now his boyfriend stepped over, seizing his forearm in a loose but firm grip.  “Yes, you managed to drag another of your lacrosse friends over because of an injury in that stupid game.  You know you can just invite them here, right?”

Caspar’s ice blue eyes flicked between the two of them.  “Uh, haha yeah, no, I know, I didn’t, I—Lin, I promise I tried not to get hurt again this time!”

Linhardt took Cas by the chin, tilted his head back and forth while flashing a penlight in his eyes.  Presumably to check for a concussion.  That sounded like something Ashe had read in a book somewhere.  There was a flash of concern in his gut—maybe they did need to take Caspar to a nurse, because Linhardt was probably great, but he was a med student, not a nursing major, did he really know how to treat a potential concussion?  But then Caspar’s expression cleared, and he grinned, something wide and instinctive.  Ashe’s heart clenched.  It was the lovestruck look that the best writers liked to describe with flowery language, the one lovers gave each other at emotional moments of their journey. 

Ashe was painfully aware he was intruding on something.  The comfortable spot he’d imagined himself in moments previous scattered before him: Caspar and Linhardt were together.  They were happy.  Yet another landscape at this college with all its components already snug in their spots; no jagged edges or missing pieces.  Ashe had been hoping he’d find open spaces he could fit himself into, now that he couldn’t stand the gaping hole in his home back in Gaspard.  But almost everyone else in this school was already in a rhythm, in a clique, schedules unaccommodating of a new commitment.

He needed to leave, now.

“Uh, Linhardt, can I—Can I help with anything else?  I, I should get back to the dorm and work on some homework.  But, I can still help, if you need anything else, or can I get anything else for Caspar?”

The two of them turned to look at him.  Linhardt was still appraising, and his face was back to its apparent trademark blank look.  Caspar’s face tightened and then a grin possessed him again—it was a different one than how he looked at Linhardt.  It was still bright, affectionate.  Ashe had never thought he’d get along well with someone of Caspar’s somewhat abrasive personality, but the honesty in his gaze was something refreshing.  He was lucky to count Caspar as a friend.  He couldn’t hope for anything more than that.

“Wait, Ashe—” Caspar reached out for him.

Linhardt turned to look at Caspar.  They had a conversation in raised eyebrows and then Linhardt sighed.  “I can’t just throw you back out after you brought him here, now can I?  I’ll get you the wifi password and you can have some of our nice tea.  Maybe if you hang out for a little while, I can keep Caspar contained with less effort on my part.”

“Help me with my Lit reading?”  Caspar asked, and the hope in his eyes crumbled the last of Ashe’s defenses.

“You,” Linhardt said, poking Caspar in the chest, “Need to lay down.  No screens.  I don’t think you’ve got a concussion but I’m going to keep checking for the next day.”

“I… I can stay and help, but I don’t want to be in the way,” Ashe said, and the two of them shook their heads—Caspar wincing with the movement. 

Linhardt patted Caspar on the shoulder and pushed him gently back out into the reading room.  Ashe instinctively moved to support his shoulder when Caspar stumbled for a second for balance.

“Let’s get him settled on the couch and I will get tea started,” Linhardt said.  “If you want to take a shower, we probably have enough hot water for that.”

Ashe thought for a second about staying in his sweaty jersey, how it would crust up and he would feel filmy and disgusting for hours, and then thought again about using Caspar-and-Linhardt’s shower and flushed.  “I should be okay,” he said.  “Could you point me in the direction of the bathroom though?  I should just change real quick.”  Even that had his cheeks flaming.  He really had watched too many rom-coms if all his brain could think about was getting caught with just a towel around his waist by his crush, or by his crush’s attractive, aloof boyfriend.

...

CHECK OUT THE NEXT CHAPTERS ON Ao3! see reblog for link!

[eg515]

I rewatched The Cross My Heart Job a few days ago and I keep thinking about one scene.

it's the episode that starts with the crew arriving at the airport after a long job, when Nate notices a dead-drop happening and they have a little over an hour to get back a donor heart and save a kid's life.

a main element of the episode is everyone improvising, since they have no equipment. Parker says her lockpicks are in customs. we see a flashback of Hardison's laptop sinking in the ocean. we get an explanation for everything. comms are water damaged. Sophie always travels with heels.

but then we get this scene:

and there are two things I keep thinking about.

Eliot's arm is bandaged, some blood even soaked through. and while he does mention fighting three ex-Brazilian combat divers with spearguns underwater (because of course he did that), it's just a passing comment in his bickering with Hardison. but I just really like this attention to detail. Eliot tending to his injuries is common to see, but we usually see him getting those injuries too. this time we fon't see the fight, not even in a short flashback, but we still see the aftermath.

just. how causally Parker and Eliot start undressing in front of each other? I'm sure by this point they are long used to having to share personal space and not always having privacy, but it's still a striking difference to the previous times when both Eliot and Hardison's reaction was to immediately turn away and give Parker space.

[violetren]

The great thing about the White Collar OT3 is that at no point does the introduction of Neal into El and Peter's everyday lives never feels like a threat to Peter and El's marriage.

Like from the moment Neal shows up at their house in episode one he and El hit it off.

Within the first 5 episodes Neal and El have figured out they have similar knowledge and interest in the finer things, they're sharing looks over how Peter talks about and will react to things, El is telling Peter to trust in Neal a little, Neal is helping make sure they have a lovely anniversary, and El is calling Neal in to mediate/help prove her point in mini arguments to make Peter do stuff.

They also work really well because while Peter, El, and Neal might all be slightly different flavours and intensities of hyper competent adrenaline junkie weirdos, all three of them are intensely loyal to "their people" so the second El and Neal recognised that they both trust Peter as someone who will always try to do the right thing and respect them they were like "oh green flag."

[erodingsinner]

A black man, a Muslim, and a white girl hugging beside the road? We should go home before we get shot.

EVIL: 4x03 — How to Slaughter a Pig.

[unloneliest]

in the lonely hearts club job leverage asks the question "does romantic love exist?" and answers it by having eliot buy parker a venus fly trap on hardison's behalf, expecting no recognition and revealing eliot remembers a throwaway comment parker made on their second job together.

we all know this.

but was anybody going to tell me hardison already had a browser window open looking for restaurants to buy eliot in portland in response at the start of the episode immediately after that? or was i supposed to figure it out on a rewatch all by myself?!

[jerswayman]

i think we all know it's you who never wants to leave brando

[evil-ot3]

no one:

me when ben is encouraging david and kristen to get together as a couple but not also addressing his own feelings for them:

[fumifooms]

Namalin

Namari x Falin

Easy short rarepair spotlight post for prosperity~ This one I didn’t think of on my own for once, I don’t know if it’s just I forgot the decided-on ship name or what but I remember seeing really nice art and a couple posts about it that I can’t find again 💔 Namalin warrior you are out there and not forgotten ty for making me see the light

I like that Namari’s critical of Falin! I have a whole character analysis on Falin if you’re interested, but it’s generally well noticed that people around Falin idealize her a lot. Laios, Marcille and Toshiro all put her on a pedestral of ultimate goodness in the world, a saintess if nothing short of perfection. Sounds like Chilchuck felt sort of creeped out by her vibes, uncomfortable because he couldn’t read her, so unlike Namari it seems he preferred steering clear of her rather than debate opposed ideologies like he usually does. Makes sense if unlike Namari his issue is with her cryptic aura rather than the stances she does show. "… The dungeon is no place for soft hearts" my ultimate namalin scene <333 It’s fun because while this scene is there to show us a lot of things, mostly to establish Falin’s characters better as it’s the first flashback of her we get, the conflict in it is more than anything else Falin vs Namari in how they contrast and clash and approach situations differently. Namari wants security in swift effective violence and thinks Falin too soft for her own good when she prefers a pacifist approach and promotes compassion even for the "undeserving" in Namari’s eyes. Falin steps between the battle ready Namari and the ghost, fearless. Falin effortlessly gently exorcises the ghost without one step back, quickly. Falin proves someone wrong. Falin proves someone wrong.

I love thinking of Namari being surprised when she learns new aspects of Falin. I like Falin having the power to shape people’s views on her. With Falin ships the most fun part for me is usually that point where Falin/the relationship becomes a clean slate: the person realizes they haven’t been seeing all of her, realizes there’s more of her they hadn’t noticed or that she hadn’t shown, that there’s change, a shift in the views on each other and the dynamic a bit.

Namari often feels like an external view looking in to me… I need to make a proper analysis on her but like. I made a lamari post once (analytic more than personally invested rip sorry) and I go with the same Namari take here, I think she’s someone who tends to have an outsider view on people and relationships if that makes sense, she’s a coworker before anything else and she’s content staying at a distance, she’s not objective per se but she tries to keep feelings out of her choices and how she sees people (her lil arc on not staying to save Falin despite the existing camaderie but in the end asking to work for the Flokes more because she wants to stay with them). She’s serious no nonsense on the job but friendly off the job and likes having casual friends, but she’s not… She doesn’t really feel connected to the group. She’s so focused on doing her job, even if she does get impulsive and passionate and too assertive for her bosses’ tastes, so focused on working her reputation and life from the ground up that that professionalism and attitude limits her social life. It doesn’t help that her reputation makes her widely judged, so she probably enters social spaces on the derensive. The closest person she was to pre-canon as far as we knew was Chilchuck and even they have a very "coworker I get along with" dynamic more than friends, with a similar sense of boundaries, humor and world view. Also like canon says a few time, the party didn’t really try to get to know each other well pre-canon, didn’t hang out after work often no one knew where Marcille was from and no one thought that was weird (also how no one had the instinct to ask about Senshi’s past) etc, the notable exception is we’re shown Namari and Chilchuck hitting taverns together and having a grand time. Everyone’s fine with things as they are, they get along decent even if not everyone considers each other friends exactly. Where I’m getting at is that to me, it feels like she tries keeping emotional distance. Emotional distance from people in general being something which in my interpretation of Falin is also present, which would make it a theme and common thread interesting to explore imo. But yes like, Namari looking at Falin, and how everyone treats her, and being more skeptical, seeing her for what she is a little more, maybe even uncharitable. "Why is everyone treating her like she’s all that? She’s gentle sure but seems like a doormat to me" and then one day she comes running up with her mace ready to cave in someone’s face to protect Laios. So yeah… Keeping her distance but one day Falin offering her some gentleness that feels very too personal for someone who’s not used to being genuine and simply showing that they care… Them talking a bit which leaves her stumped and mindblown in a quiet way when Falin defies her expectations. Namari growing on Falin when she stays and decides to open herself up more, or when Falin ends up reading her really well like she’s shown to do with her parents and Marcille’s worries. She’s very attuned to worrying and why and when different people do it especially when it comes to when they worry for others, perhaps because she does a lot of that too, so I think she’d nail down how Namari does care for the rest of the party and it’d make Namari feel seen both in a warm validating way and in a scared naked way.

We see in the tentacles chapter that she’s someone’s who’s very protective and looks out for her peers in a tough love way. She’s overbearing but it’s because she wants everyone to have the best chances. I like that she’s very confrontational and somewhat pushy and rude, but it’s tough love, it’s protective care: asserting herself to better protect and defend. The opposite of Falin’s type of care, quiet and self-sacrificial devotion. They’re barbarian x healer but they’re also bodyguard x bodyguard in their attitude and role. … What I want for them is slow burn slice of life of being coworkers and slowly getting to know each other better, pretty fluffy, but god, put this way they’d have the potential to be such a hot layered mess of insanely mutually devoted codependence… Falin taking a hit for Namari and Namari being scarred by it forever, lots of arguments about it, my god.

I like that she’s the fighter to Falin’s healer. I looove thinking of scenes of Falin healing Namari, necessitating touch and like, a moment of slowing down and sitting together in silence, too intimate, the perfect opportunity to connect that neither truly want to take until one day they do. I love how onesided I imagine the relationship would be at first. Again, as per my interpretation of Falin, I think Namari would have all these little observations and opinions on Falin meanwhile Falin really doesn’t think of Namari much at first. So Namari thinks a lot about Falin and thinks she’s got her pinned down but hasn’t (not that she’s fully wrong, she’d have credit and confront Falin on some of her flaws like the doormat thing), while Falin is very passive about Namari and doesn’t think deeply about her or anything but she read Namari’s insecurities and logic well. Not unlike how Laios was the one who seemed to understand Namari’s way of care the best in the party in the tentacles episode, and how he was very understanding of her choice and reasons. In Falin’s case it’s more like, the objectivity of passivity… She cares about Namari less than Laios who generally seeks to form bonds, so her lack of investment allows her a neutral perspective. In that way another parallel with Namari that I’m drawing, except Namari lets feelings from her opinions seeps in more… Onesided beef my beloved. I’m going insane save me this post was a mistake. I think Falin takes the crumbs of friendship and love where she can without expecting or asking for anything more than what’s offered, and I think her relationship with Namari (or anyone really) would start out the way it did with Marcille: the other takes the initiative and they end up spending time together, Falin is friendly but unattached until the bond gets gradually and wordlessly strenghtened through regularly spending moments together. So! I think Namari would need to take a lot of the first steps, which since again she’s confrontational & argumentative and doesn’t hold herself back on that front that could spark a lot of conversations I think. Ooor since Falin cares about Namari less than Laios and Marcille she allows herself to be bolder herself lol. Or also circumstances force them to spend time together like dungeon party getting separated shenanigans.

I think their personalities match cutely, I think falin would try to protect namari like she does others but also Namari simply doesn’t need protection, just support. And I think they’re complementary in that way that Namari’s friendly but also won’t sugarcoat things, and I think if she takes an interest in Falin it could go from there and she could develop some understanding of her and idk like an intrigued crush….

Namari wants stability & security & to, like, not be judged and rejected and exiled lol, to find her nest her pack the place where she feels good and wanted in. I think having a fitting partner would help in that (similarly to how the found family with the Flokes seemed to. Oh another parallel, Falin’s top priority is protecting Laios her brother and what Namari are a family figure) and I think Falin would fulfill that cozy protection and that warm ‘being seen and not judged’ feeling. But also Namari would run up to her and yell about her trying to sacrifice herself ever.

Another fun thread to explore: post-canon guilt for not having gone to save her. Sure, they weren’t close, but they had some nice memories, didn’t they? Namari cares, and it stings despite herself when it feels like people think she doesn’t. Oh it wasn’t a lost cause after all, oh it’d have worked out, oh I could have stayed loyal and it wouldn’t have compromised myself in the end. Wanting to apologize to Falin, or just ahnging out with her and sharing a moment after she wakes up. And tangent but that’s interesting to think about… Narratively, I think the purpose of Namari and Toshiro in the story, beyond strenghtening the theme of "seek to understand what is different from you and promote unity despite them" and fleshing the cast and worldbuilding, is Toshiro’s purpose was being a foil & tool in Laios’ arc (trouble connecting with people) while Namari’s was being and a foil & tool in Marcille’s arc (standing up for ideals without being out of touch with harsh realities and needs). They are the conflict that push our protagonists to grow— and they explore different ways of dealing with a situation or topic, different ways of growing into themselves on that end: Laios needing to listen to others more and Toshiro needing to focus on voicing himself more to be able to connect, Marcille needing to learn ideals sometimes cost too much and Namari needing to internalize that ideals are sometimes worth risks (not only to be able to find a reasonable but fulfilling life balance, but also to get in touch with their compassion: Namari restricts her own too much and Marcille is too harsh on people she deems to be breaking values, like Namari not risking her life and career for a friend with no promise of success, or even like how Namari is harsh on Falin’s way of doing things : too gentle, too soft, too idealistic) (similarly to Chilchuck’s arc with Marcille too, and he also plays a hand in advancing that arc in the Namari chapters). We are getting far from namalin sorry ummm preview for future analyses like Toshiro’s contrasting approach to grief and accepting loss.

More post-canon namalin! Thinking about a timeline where… Namari is fond of Falin finding herself and going off to do her thing. "Finally!" she thinks. If she’s still for hire, maybe Falin would want her to come along, either as guide or bodyguard <3, she knows Namari has a lot of good avice on a lot of things to give, plus they’ve worked together before. She hires Namari and they travel for a bit. Travel would do Namari good too I think, even if her end goal is to settle and I think Falin’s would be too eventually. Seeing sights that light her wonder for the world and going places where people don’t know her story, don’t recognize her face or her name. Them, feeling free. Finding a companionship that feels uplifting instead of stifling or charged. Namari having been too in her head about reputation and social games and money that they hit the roads and spend time in nature and it’s like, woah. I’ve been living in a small world with made up rules.

Ahh yes romance, Namari and Falin kissing after 3 years of not really knowing each other despite seeing each other every day then 2 months of wanting to spend more and more time together until they’re an inseparable duo! Workwives. I want them to stand next to each other during campire time and Namari cracks little jokes and Namari laughs. I want Namari to gift Falin a bug caught in amber and for it to be their wedding/promised to each other thing.

TLDR

Rowdy but levelheaded barbarian x gentle healer that will also cave your face in with a mace I like it…… They’re an interesting duo of mixed stuff. Protection being your purpose and what you’re worth for, literally being a meat shield (Laios, Tansu), finding your individuality recognized and validated through a growing bond with the other. Sticking around as a love language. Also bug immortalized in amber and it being beautiful.

Nevermind this wasn’t short. Um! Anyways.

[independent-fics]

Once again talking about missed causal touches of the leverage ot3 in season 4 in “The Cross My Heart Job” Eliot puts his arm around Parker just a little as he’s leading her and Hardison away from the hospital viewing window at the end. And I think he nudges Hardison’s shoulder too to get them moving like!!

(Quick little gif I did just to show it so sorry about the quality but still!!!!)

Like!!! I still stand by something happening in between season 3 and 4. You cannot tell me otherwise the ease this ot3 has amongst each other this season even after arguing for half this episode about the last con

@werewolfsmile I’m tagging you because I know you’ll agree

[mysweetoddbird]

truly truly believe that when eliot takes out those guards in the pilot and then turns to hardison with "thats what i do" theres a bit of self loathing there bc yeah hes good at it but thats what he does. that violence is what hes good for. but then hardison just looks at him like he kinda wants to fuck him right then and there so i wonder what that did for his self loathing

[leverage-ot3]

notable moments from The Cross My Heart Job

leverage 4.09

(team comes down an escalator toward the main floor)

Sophie: Well, that trip was a complete disaster.

Hardison: It was a train wreck.

Eliot: No, it was a shipwreck. And you know how I know that? 'Cause I was in the wreck.

Hardison: Hey, man, I don't want to hear you complain. At least you don't have to fix th-the ear buds. You know what?

Eliot: Man, don't talk to me about the ear buds! I just fought three ex-Brazilian combat divers with spear-guns, underwater!

Hardison: I don't want to hear it. I don't want to hear it.

Eliot: You believe this? (taps Sophie’s arm)

Sophie: Ow, don't touch me. I am sunburnt everywhere. I hate playing the French heiress on the topless beach.

Parker: Oh, I don't know what you're complaining about. I didn't even get to see the emerald.

Hardison: Are you for real?

Eliot: Oh, my god, for the last time, it's not an emerald. All right? It's an island. It's the "Emerald of the Caribbean."

chaotic family on an escalator

- - - - -

Parker: The heart could be anywhere by now. They could have jumped in a taxi and driven off.

Sophie: No, no, we have to assume it's still in the airport, that they're planning to fly it out.

Parker: Why?

Eliot: 'Cause otherwise, we've already lost

- - - - -

Eliot: All right. They're in there. We're gonna need a distraction.

(Sophie takes off her pants and uses her long shirt like a dress, then shakes out her hair and pulls a pair of heels from her purse. Parker counts some cash)

Parker: All right, they told Linda to call from a pay phone for instructions once she made the drop.

Eliot (hands Parker money): Better hurry up, or they're gonna start getting suspicious.

Parker: It's a good thing we didn't stay on that island to see those emeralds.

Eliot: Parker, I just t...

(Sophie leans on Eliot to put on her shoes)

Eliot: You carry high heels in your purse?

Sophie: I always travel with heels. (takes Parker’s scarf and ties it around her waist) How's this? Distracting enough?

Parker: Hmm.

parker and eliot both look away, partially to give her privacy but partially to act as a wall so that other people won’t see her changing

notice the stark contrast between this scene and the other changing scene in this episode

- - - - -

(the clerk closes the doors. Inside, Eliot pulls the kidnapper between two tables while Parker talks to Tanya)

Paker: Yeah, that will work. We'll get you a little taser, carry it with you wherever you go-

parker and her tasers + being surprisingly good with kids

- - - - -

Nate (to Eliot): What do you got on this guy?

Eliot: He's not a professional. He has no combat training. Lousy Zanshin.

Parker: The what?

Eliot: He's a loc... It means "personal awareness." Thug for hire, but very well funded. (hands Nate tickets) Two first-class tickets, one for him and one for the girl, and that's how they got past security, and (hands gun to Nate) plastic gun. One or two shots in the barrel warps, but that's pretty much all you need, very pricey hardware.

Parker: Why would someone pay for that but not hire a professional?

Eliot: He doesn't want a professional. He wants a local so we can't trace him back to him.

- - - - -

(Eliot uses a cord to tie the kidnapper’s hands)

Eliot (to Sophie): Don't suppose you travel with handcuffs.

Sophie: No, not on this trip.

👀👀👀

- - - - -

Parker: Plus the ear buds are busted.

Hardison: And I burned our phones and our credit cards so we can't be traced.

Sophie: Most of our money went on bribing the waiter.

Eliot: We're operating in a secured area.

Parker: And my lock picks are checked.

Hardison: And airport wi-fi is a joke. Face it, we're practically naked.

- - - - -

(Eliot and Parker walk out of the Restaurant and part ways. Parker approaches a kiosk that sells computers and looks around, then crouches to look at the locks before walking away. Eliot approaches an electronic store before yelling catches his attention from a check in desk not far away)

Platinum Flyer: You guys! Hey! Platinum flyer over here. Come here. Somebody look at me.

Airline Clerk: Sir, please calm down.

Platinum Flyer: Ju... let me stop you right there, okay? I don't care what seats you have left, all right? Do you see this? (holds up a card) I am a vista Atlantic platinum flyer, all right? Is this card gold? No. Look at it. Is it silver? No.

(Eliot looks around, sees a magazine and picks it up)

Platinum Flyer: It's platinum, all right? So if you think that I am sitting back in coach with the rabble, you got another think coming, all right?

(Eliot puts the magazine over the Platinum Flyer’s briefcase as the man tries to drop his wallet into it)

Platinum Flyer: You can just forget it. I don't even want to talk to you anymore. Who's that? Thing one and thing two, come here. You guys. Hey!

(Eliot walks back to the electronics store and pulls the Platinum Flyer’s credit card from the wallet. He enters the store and grabs several packages of walkie talkies, then flags down a clerk)

Eliot: Yo, yo, yo. Come over here.

(Parker tries on various sunglasses, stealing a pair before walking away. She walks past again and steals a snow globe. On another pass she steals a bag. She returns to the computer kiosk and breaks the sunglasses to picks the locks, revealing an old style CRT monitor)

all this competence porn, it’s SO GOOD

- - - - -

(later Parker and Eliot take apart the walkie talkies at a table while Hardison uses an old computer at the bar with Sophie and Linda watching while Nate paces)

Nate: Hardison, come on.

Hardison: Look, man, this is like stone knives and bearskins, okay? Nobody's asking Eliot to fight a guy with a nerf sword.

Eliot: Damascus, 2002.

Hardison: Like you've been to Damascus.

domestic parker and eliot taking apart walkie talkies? eliot legit sword fighting with a nerf sword? amazing

- - - - -

(the clerk watches from behind them, amazed)

Hardison: Wh-what? Come on, man. Like you've never seen a man travel with a desktop before. Go.

LMAO

- - - - -

Nate: Right there! Right there. Him.

Sophie: Dean Chesney?

Nate: Dean Chesney, CEO of Vertronics defense contractor. I had my eye on him for quite a while, but he was never a high-priority target.

Hardison: Why not?

Nate: He was dying.

- - - - -

(Eliot sits down and his feet hit against the struggling kidnapper. Eliot kicks him in the head but he continues making muffled sounds)

Nate: Are you done?

(Eliot kicks the man again)

Eliot: Yeah

- - - - -

Hardison: After we get out of the public areas of the terminal, we work on level two. It's ground crew, tarmac access. It gets us from here to the private terminal.

Parker: How do we get that? Break Eliot's wrist?

Hardison: What? N-no, no. We just pick one up from where the ground crew left it.

[Locker Room]

Parker (opening combination lock): Yeah, this will keep my stuff safe, from a 6-year-old with the DTs.

(Parker opens the locker and removes a jacket. Eliot closes the locker and hits the lock on the one next to it, opening the lock. He pulls out a level 2 badge and hands it to Parker)

Eliot: That's two.

(Parker and Eliot begin to change clothes)

🔥🔥🔥 scene tho 🔥🔥🔥

also, notice how they start getting changed without turning around or anything, like hardison would have immediately turned around because that’s who he is. she literally immediately takes her shirt off without a care. he doesn’t even blink at it. eliot and parker have a very strong, nonverbal, physical bond because they’re similar entities. they understand each other on a deep level because of their pasts and there isn’t that type of need for modesty between them.

also they’re literally so close to each other when they’re doing this??? literally, personal space? they don’t know her

ALSO, eliot throws his shirt at the camera and idk it feels like he’s giving parker privacy from the “onlookers” (aka the camera) if you get what I’m saying,,,

- - - - -

Sophie: Well, we have to lure them out.

Parker: Oh, okay. Set Nate on fire?

Eliot: Settle down

she mouths “no” back at him and they have a silent exchange where she ends up smiling I love them

- - - - -

Hardison (pacing): Come on, Eliot. Come on, come on. Come on, man.

Announcer: Mr. Picard. Mr. Kirk Picard, please meet your party at door "E.

ELIOT KNOWS HOW TO GET HARDISONS ATTENTION. HE KNOWS TO MAKE A STAR TREK REFERENCE AND BAM HARDISON KNOWS WHATS UP. WHAT D O R K S

- - - - -

(Eliot gets into a cart that Parker is sitting in. She holds up the keys and hands them to him)

Parker: Let's ride

her SMILE and EXCITEMENT

- - - - -

Hardison: Excuse me. Uh, something's wrong with my pin. Can you reset it for me?

(Hardison hands the card to the guard, who scans it)

Guard: Can you confirm your old pin?

(the screen shows that the card belongs to a woman and the guard looks at Hardison in surprise)

Guard: Uh...

Hardison: What?

Guard: Wh—

Hardison: what? You got a, you got a problem? My little transformation? Go on, speak your mind. Yeah, I had some surgery, huh? A little nip, a little tuck, a little pop, okay? And now I am who I'm supposed to be. I used to be Francesca. Now my name is Frank!

Guard: Um...

(a second guard turns to look at Hardison)

Hardison: You got a problem? You... excu—excu—I didn't know this was the club. You all up in the mix, don't even know the flavor. What's your problem? (walks around the desk aggressively) You got a, you—everybody got a problem with this? Look, racism, sexism, anti-semitism? That's how you y'all want to play this? Cool. I thought it was a no-no in airport security, but I see y'all profilin' me right, left, and center, everywhere. You know what? Shame on you. Shame on your mama. Shame on your kids.

(Hardison glances at the monitor to see the pin number, then walks back around the desk)

Guard: I-it's fine. I-it's fine. I got no problem with anything. Uh, it-it looks like you used to, used to be a-a really pretty girl.

Hardison: Used to be?

Guard: A-and n-now you're a-a very handsome gentleman.

Hardison: You hitting on me?

Guard: C-can you confirm your old pin?

Hardison: It's 5135.

Guard: Uh. (scans the card) Okay, there. Try that.

Hardison: Thank you. (looks at second guard) You better re-adjust your peripherals.

Guard 2: Real smooth.

(Hardison returns to the card reader and scans the card, entering the pin)

Reader: Pin accepted.

Hardison: Don't care what anybody else says. Next time, I'm taking the train.

I can’t tell if this scene was transphobic or not ??? like, it could have been worse and he called out people who would be judgmental of his “transformation” ???

like there was like one other kinda transphobic thing they did in the show but I forget the episode

- - - - -

Nate: I know what you're gonna say.

Sophie: I think you should have a drink.

Nate: Okay, I didn't know what you were gonna say.

Sophie: Look, we don't like it when you drink, (pours him a drink) but we trust you when you do. We both knew this was gonna get personal. We need you to stay clear-headed. You let it get to you now, it's gonna go bad for all of us. Be very careful, Nate.

- - - - -

Nate: Sam would have been 13 this year. A teenager. Almost a man. I mean, you know, probably a big pain in the ass, but… Joshua Spin is getting out of that hospital bed.

(Sophie nods. Nate sighs and takes the drink, looking down at Sophie’s hand over his)

- - - - -

hardison’s GRIN when he sees all the computers in the tower 🥺

- - - - -

Parker: It took us 8 minutes to get there. It's gonna take us 8 minutes to get back. Wait. (goes around to the front of the cart)

Eliot: What are you doing? Wait. No way!

(Parker lies on the ground and reaches under the cart)

Eliot: Come on, Parker, we got to go! We got to get-- Let's go! What are you do-- Quit monkeying around under there!

(Parker stands up holding a piece of electronics)

Eliot: Did you just pull something out of the engine?

Parker: Yeah. Spark regulator, keeps the cart from going more than 25 miles an hour. Now we'll get there in 4 minutes.

(Eliot starts the cart and takes off quickly)

Parker: Hey! Whoa! Whoa! Yeah!

- - - - -

Nate: Last week on that island, you faked a volcanic eruption. How is this harder?

HE DID WHAT NOW

- - - - -

Nate: You just sell it to the tower.

Sophie: Massdot special?

Nate: Massdot special.

Linda: Massdot special?

Sophie: Yes! (takes Linda’s phone and makes a call)

[National Weather Service]

Rachael: National Weather Service. This is Rachel.

Sophie: Oh, thank God!

[Crab-a-Rama]

Sophie: I was just out walking my dogs, and I saw a tornado touch down!

(Nate pulls up pictures of tornadoes on the computer)

Rachael: Are you sure?

[National Weather Service]

Rachael: The current forecast don't indicate any severe-weather patterns.

Sophie: I'm sure.

[Crab-a-Rama]

Sophie: I took a photo of it with my phone. I'm sending it to you now.

(Nate sends a picture of a tornado to Rachael as he dials the phone)

[National Weather Service]

(Rachael looks at the picture in shock)

Rachael: Uh, please hold, ma'am. (places Sophie on hold and takes another call) National weather service. This is Rachel.

[Crab-a-Rama]

Nate: Are you asleep at the wheel? There's a tornado out here by the airport right now! A freaking tornado! Come on!

[National Weather Service]

Rachael: Bill. Bill!

Bill: What is it?

Rachael: We got calls here. I think we need to issue a tornado warning for the Cincinnati metropolitan area.

- - - - -

Chesney: --to make the top of the list. This is my only chance. I've planned for months. I have eight backup contingencies. I'm fighting for my life, Mr. Ford! What are you fighting for?

[Crab-a-Rama]

Nate: I am fighting for that 15-year-old boy that you're going to kill.

[Chesney’s Room]

Chesney: God helps those who help themselves.

Nate: And I help people who can't.

[Crab-a-Rama]

Nate: And God help you if anything should happen to that boy, because if he spends more than one second longer in that hospital than he needs to, I will make it my mission in life to end you.

[Chesney’s Room]

Nate: I will ruin you.

[Crab-a-Rama]

Nate: I will ruin your name. I will ruin your company. I will bring down everything you have ever touched. And when I am done, I will hunt you down--

[Chesney’s Room]

Nate: --and I will kill you myself.

[Crab-a-Rama]

(Nate hangs up the phone)

- - - - -

parker yells “yee haw” a lot and I love her for that

- - - - -

Pilot: Tower, field is in sight.

Program: We have you in sight. Clear to land on runway 1-8.

Hardison: Okay, flight 4-0-9. W-we have a visual. You are clear to land on runway 1-8.

Pilot: Roger. Clear to land.

(the airplane lands safely)

Pilot: Tower, we are down.

Hardison: Yes! Hell yeah! That's what I'm talking about.

Pilot: Say again, tower?

Hardison: I'm sorry. No, no, I'm sorry. It's cool. It's cool. It's cool. Celebrate with me. All right.

hardison managed to land an airplane with 300 people on it with nothing more than a computer and a flight simulator and we STAN our intelligent man

- - - - -

eliot was always standing next to hardison in all the extra scenes in this episode and we love to see it

- - - - -

(Eliot looks at Nate and Sophie, then nudges Hardison)

Eliot: Let's go.

(Eliot grabs Parker on the way down the hall, Hardison follows them)

his lil pat on hardison’s shoulder? how he places a guiding hand on parker’s arm, leading her away? we LOVE to see casual touches and casual intimacy between them

- - - - -

so hardison likes to assemble model helicopters in his spare time sometimes and nate assembles model ships in his ???

- - - - -

Chesney: So now what? You can't report me without exposing yourself. And what's to stop me from trying again?

[Leverage HQ]

Nate: I am. (hits remote to bring up information and a video feed on the monitors) I'm watching you. I'm watching your money, your people, your company. What have you got there, a pulse rate of 86?

[Chesney’s Room]

(Chesney looks around in alarm)

[Leverage HQ]

Nate: Oh, look at that.

[Chesney’s Room]

Nate: Just jumped up to 104. That can't be good for you.

[Leverage HQ]

Nate: Make your peace now, Chesney. (continues putting model together) Because if I see anything, anything I don't like...

[Chesney’s Room]

Chesney: Well, Mr. Ford it seems you've killed me after all.

[Leverage HQ]

Nate: Oh, I didn't kill you. God killed you. I just made sure it took. (hangs up)

[eg515]

obsessed with all the times Eliot smiles because of Hardison, but only when he's sure Hardison doesn't see it

s04e09 The Cross My Heart Job

[agu-doodles]

I was inspired by this base (that I found on pinterest):

[halogenes1s]

WIP

[geeky-nightphilosopher]

Out of the whole crew I think Eliot and Parker's friendship- is the most interesting (and the cutest.)

There's a comradery that they have- that none of the others do. Many people have pointed out the scene where Eliot and Parker change in front of each other without blinking. Where Eliot throws an item of clothing at a camera to give them privacy. (The Cross My Heart Job)

Nobody actually really questions it. They just have assumptions. Which is totally fair. They set the scene that way. I think it's their way of saying neither of them are concerned about seeing each other bare. It's a weird metaphor and I don't really know how to explain it.

There's the part where Parker asks Eliot; "What did you do?" And he begs her; "Not to ask me that Parker, because if you do- I'm going to tell you, so please don't ask." And that is a scene that the whole Fandom holds so close to their hearts. (The Big Bang Job)

Every moment where Parker and Eliot defend Hardison from a high chance of a plague. Where she naps with a government official in their space. Where she takes the case and Eliot punches the bad guy. Even when an area is swarming with law officals- she still trusts him. (The Rundown Job.)

And the scenes where they fell into the hole. Parker wants to bring the dead guy with back to the base and Eliot (despite wanting to leave him,) helps her. But the ropes snaps and it becomes more about them getting out- then getting the dead guy out. (The Long Way Down Job)

Not to mention all those scenes were Parker is near Eliot in some case. Whether it's sitting on the arm chair. Or poking him to see if his injuries actually hurt. Or the times in Redemption- where he nudges Parker to convince Sophie to steal something. Or about robot bodies. The Santa hat. Even in a middle of a hurricane- their together and Parker is by his side. (The Hurricane Job)

Some seem them as romantic (this post isn't meant to start arguments.) However- I don't see it that way. They seem more like siblings too me. The way Eliot gets annoyed and huffs and puffs- but still is willing to make sure she gets out. The way Parker snaps back- is more sisterly. Sure for a while Eliot doesn't know how to handle her. He doesn't know how to accept the "crazy," but eventually- somewhere- he sees that she really isn't.

Parker isn't crazy. She just never had anybody to trust before. And not having some one you can turn to- makes people throw caution to the wind sometimes. But when she does starting trust Hardison and Eliot- she becomes a bit more careful. She's still care free. But careful at the same time.

Eliot learns to trust her instinct. And I think that's why- even if he says "No," to her- and she eventually says "Yes," he'll follow her without question.

I think it also helps that Parker doesn't see him as some mercenary. She sees him as someone who deserves Redemption.

[strawberrycamel]

boys' night out job except eliot is bisexual- wait no that's just the boys' night out job