#and you’re arguing with Hardison?

[independent-fics]

Eliot: Hey, you know what, man? I've been around little kids all day. I don't need to come home and do all this crap.

Hardison: Hey, man, with all that? I've been in this pink shirt and these tight plaid pants, these old webster loafers, this girl is walking on my back. I don't need this, man.

[theladyragnell]

ooohh, leverage ot3 talking late into the night?

(Set early in the Boston era.)

More often than not, it’s the three of them on Nate’s couch long after Nate’s gone to sleep.

After all, Alec is his landlord, and he’s not going to be a shitty landlord. He splashed out for the good internet connection, the kind that can handle the sort of load Alec works with regularly, and the bar and the apartment are in a neighborhood with enough utilities that nobody’s going to think twice about that kind of load, so it’s safer than doing the work in his own brownstone that he largely picked for the view and so he could enjoy people’s expressions when he says he lives in Beacon Hill.

All that to say, when Alec’s got work to do, and no matter what his teammates say he’s always got work to do, he does it at Nate’s, while Nate sleeps or pretends to sleep or makes whatever terrible choices Nate is making this week.

There’s no real reason for the other two to stay. Eliot claims he only sleeps four hours a night, and Parker thinks wandering around the Isabella Stewart Gardner at night trying to solve their unsolved heist is a good use of recreational time (which it is, but also her theories are wrong), but their work doesn’t take the kind of preparation and long hours of filtering through security footage his does.

When Eliot stays, he makes excuses about it. The rest of them are animals who never do the dishes from team dinner, or the mark’s security looked shifty and Eliot wants to make sure nobody followed them, or Nate’s kitchen has better wild yeast for a new sourdough starter, which was a wild conversation but the resulting bread was good as hell.

Parker doesn’t make excuses. She just twists herself up in a pretzel a few pieces of furniture away from him or finds some way to hang from the ceiling and hangs out. When Eliot makes a late-night snack of homemade soft pretzels or Swedish meatballs or spinach balls, she eats them. Sometimes she steals Alec’s orange soda, which she doesn’t even like.

So Alec talks to them. It’s sort of his natural state, talking to people, keeping up a running commentary on what he’s doing, and with Parker and Eliot, they’re pretty likely to chime in with something helpful sometimes.

Neither of them are chatty people, which is why he doesn’t really notice it when they do start chatting. He’s so used to one-sided conversations, and then he looks up from a laptop at two in the morning and realizes that Parker’s spent the last ten minutes telling him where she would put cameras if she wanted a thief as good as she is to know they’re there, that Eliot’s sometimes chiming in to argue with her about maybe tailoring their plans to make thieves a little less good than she is paranoid.

“What?” Eliot demands, a little aggressive like he can sometimes get, when he catches Hardison staring at them a few minutes later, fingers hovering over his keyboard while he puzzles over the situation and then puzzles over why he’s puzzling.

“Nothing, man. Just wondering if you guys need to get some sleep, that’s all. Don’t you have that early meet with the mark? Or am I doing all this work on identifying his security team for no good reason?”

Parker, who is upside down on the couch in a way that would have Alec dizzy if he tried it out, makes a face like she smelled something. “Oh, I’m not going to bed before that. I’ll sleep later.”

“I’ve got plenty of time,” says Eliot, who definitely doesn’t. “Especially if Parker is going to be wrong about parking lot cameras—”

“I am never wrong about security cameras!”

“You’re both wrong about security cameras,” says Hardison, who has looked at more footage than both of them combined, and hits his last few keystrokes before he can shut the laptop, work done, and argue with them for a few more minutes until Eliot admits it’s time to go to bed.

[aardvaark]

i’ve recently begun watching Leverage, and i think my favourite thing so far is their comms/earbuds. you just KNOW that half the time they forget to stop transmitting and hardison wouldn’t turn off their sound if the conversation is juicy. so every time some of the characters are arguing with each other (basically always nate and sophie) i just think about what the others are doing, like eliot’s in some fight to the death with their arguing as a soundtrack, parker quietly waiting for her cue in the vents and tuning into their conversations like it’s the radio, hardison really needing to give them vital information but he has to awkwardly wait for sophie to end the conversation with a dramatic last line because he’s polite. probably hardison rigging it so that nate and sophie can be heard but can’t hear what he, parker and eliot say, so that they can comment secretly on those arguments. eliot not being able to turn it off during a fight, so everyone just suddenly hears lots of yelling and grunting and they’re like "ugh eliot’s at it again smh 🙄" while he’s literally getting beaten up for their sakes. everyone listening to sophie flirt while grifting and they’re all like "oooh nate’s gonna be jealoussss" and then both nate and sophie being like "…we can still hear you". sophie inevitably bringing up nate’s dead son in an argument and everyone else is just like 😧. everyone hearing the sound of parker laughing and the rushing of air (like when you’re falling) and they all start thinking WHERE IS SHE JUMPING FROM, THIS IS A SINGLE STOREY BUILDING??

[madamebaggio]

“No. End of discussion.”

“Eliot! That’s not fair.”

“Fairness has nothing to do with this, Hardison.”

“Excuse you? Nothing to do with this? So what have we been fighting for all this time?”

“Oh, don’t you dare bring our work into this.”

“You’re the one saying that being fair is not important.”

“Don’t put words into my mouth…”

“Parker.” Sophie asked softly, as she came to stand next to the other woman. “What’s wrong?” She eyed the two men in concern.

“Oh they’re just arguing.”

“I can see that.” Sophie sighed. “Why are they arguing?”

“Oh. They’re trying to decide who’s going to be tiny spoon today.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“When we sleep we have someone who’s the tiny spoon, because they’re being spooned by the other two.”

“And neither of them want to be the tiny spoon?” Sophie asked.

“No. They both want to be it today.”

[petcr3]

Perchance to Dream | Eliot Spencer x Reader

summary: When Eliot’s partner doesn’t hear from him (or Hardison) during The Experimental Job, they get worried and contact the team. When the information they find doesn’t paint a pretty picture, Eliot and the reader have a somewhat emotional reunion.

word count: ~4.4k

warnings: frank discussion of sleep deprivation tor.ture, mentions of ptsd (though it is not explored in depth), mentions of medical abuse (insofar as it is depicted in the show)

a/n: i’m on my hurt/comfort shit again, but this time it’s eliot spencer flavored. very much had heal me by lady gaga on repeat in my head while writing this. funnily enough, also, eliot doesn’t mention the convo in this gif but it’s definitely on his mind, for what it’s worth.

You haven’t heard from Eliot in three days, and that spells trouble. 

There are jobs where it’s expected, where cell service is bad or the cover is too deep for him to reach you, but any time other than that, the rule is every three days. Eliot always makes sure to show some sign of life, even if it’s a one word text with the agreed-upon sign off. Barring that, he has Hardison contact you to reassure you he’s all right–– or at least that he will be.

You argue with him, sometimes, that as scary as it can be, not knowing where he is or what he’s doing–– it’s what you signed up for. Eliot always counters that you didn’t know at the outset, and that’s the problem. You didn’t know what the hell you were signing up for when you took the job at McRory’s, and you didn’t know who you were getting into bed with the first night he touched you. You don’t know about the cons until they’re over and you don’t know–– don’t really know–– that he’s coming home until he crosses the threshold into your apartment. 

Naturally, you have an answer for everything: that you may not have known Eliot’s past when you took him home, but you sure as hell knew the man. That you don’t need to know the details of every job because you know he and his friends are best at what they do. That you know he’ll always come home to you because he’d promised you that he would.

When you get on that particular jag, Eliot knows there’s no arguing with you, so he gives in. (Or, at least, he does his version of giving in, which consists of a sour expression and a minute or two of the silent treatment even though he’s inevitably got an arm draped around your shoulder or a hand on your knee.) For your part, you’ve learned to give him a little grace with regard to that particular insecurity. You may not agree with his idea that he’s bad news, but you can’t expect him to rid himself of it overnight. But you’re always firm: you’re with him because you want to be. Because you’ve heard the bad parts and weathered the difficulties and decided you’re all in.

Today, though, it’s particularly hard.

The fourth day is the wiggle room day. Often, if you haven’t heard from Eliot in this long, you check your phone at the end of a shift and find an apologetic text or a hasty voicemail from him or, if he’s really stretched thin, from the team’s resident hacker.

But today, for whatever reason, things at the pub are painfully slow and you’ve got little else to do but idly clean behind the bar and check your cell phone near-constantly. You’d sent the other bartender on shift home early and since it was a weekday, no one would be in the kitchen until four to start prepping for dinner. There’d been no sign of anyone, not Parker or Sophie or Hardison or even Nate, and you’d only had two customers all day, both regulars.

By a conservative estimate, you were checking your phone about three times a minute and eventually you decided you’d be of no use to anyone if your hands were shaking so bad you couldn’t pour a beer. With a flip of the sign so it read that you’d be back in twenty, you were on your way up to Nate’s apartment.

You weren’t a part of the team by any stretch of the imagination, but as the longest standing member of McRory’s staff you weren’t not a part of the team. There were certain things you were made privy to, partly because it made sense and partly because it was, frankly, too difficult to hide everything from you. With the pub acting as the de facto front offices of Leverage Inc, (as the team was still affectionately called in some circles) it makes sense to have someone behind the bar that’s a little higher up in the ranks. Sophie had trained you to become an excellent liar, Parker’s shown you a few emergency escape routes in case a job follows them home, Hardison taught you the ins and outs of the pub’s beefed up security system, and even before you started dating, Eliot had insisted on showing you some self defense, in case any criminals (not the fun kind) decided to show up.

But all that doesn’t quite extend to apartment access. You know Nate lives upstairs, and the other tenants have all come down for a drink at least once, so you’d long since figured out that the elusive Tom Baker listed in the directory was none other than your boss. Taking the elevator to the corresponding floor, you try not to storm down the hallway in abject panic. Once at the door, though, you can’t help but knock a little frantically. After a few seconds of nothing, you lift your hand again, only to be met with a somewhat bewildered looking Nate.

“What?” he asks, just this side of irritable, plucking his earbud out, “what’s going on, why aren’t you downstairs?” Over his shoulder, you can see Hardison, slumped forward over a desk, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. You ignore Nate, zeroing in on Hardison only to hear a murmured apology and something along the lines of I know this has gotta be hell for you, man, but you got this. You start forward, but Nate crowds you out of the doorway.

“Hardison,” he calls, glancing over his shoulder, and once he has the younger man’s attention, he mimes taking something out from his ear. Hardison blinks slowly at him, then straightens up, removing his earpiece once he sees you.

“Hardison, what the hell?” you cry, pushing past Nate, who lets out a blustery sigh. Hardison frowns at you, confused. “It’s been more than three days,” you continue, “and I haven’t heard a word from either of you!” The realization seems to come to him slowly, as if through a fog, and he sighs once it hits him. 

“Shit,” he hisses, eyes squeezing shut with frustration, “I knew I was forgetting something.” You look at him expectantly, leg jiggling anxiously in place. “Eliot’s fine,” he says, “job’s just running a little long. We got him undercover.”

“It’s gotta be hell for him?” you protest, throwing his own words back at him–– and feeling a little guilty for being demanding like this when Hardison is clearly exhausted. But you can’t help it; even in the worst of times, Eliot and Hardison are constantly trading jabs–– If the hacker is extending that much of an olive branch, it means they’re about to be on the ropes… if they aren’t already.

“He’s fine,” Nate says, a little more firmly than kindly, before Hardison has a chance to go on. “He’s just undercover doing a sleep study. You know how he is. Why don’t you go back downstairs, huh?” He fixes you with a look, and though it’s a little stern, you also get the sense that he’s pleading with you to get out of their hair.

“Just let me talk to him,” you try. Nate almost laughs.

“Listen,” he says, “that’s about the last thing Eliot needs right now.” As much as the sentiment irks you, you know Nate is right. If Eliot knows you’re worried about him, it’ll distract him from the con. “Let him focus on the job,” Nate appeals, as if he’s reading your mind. “The sooner we get done what we need to do, the sooner you get him back, all right?” After studying him for a few moments, you grit your jaw and give a curt nod. You start to leave, but you catch Hardison’s eye on your way out.

“I need another update tomorrow,” you say. “Please?” Hardison nods gravely.

“He’s all right,” he says, “you know I’d tell you if he wasn’t.” He holds your gaze for a moment, and for all the frustration you feel, you nod. Of all of them, you know Hardison will give you the truth.

Back downstairs, the kitchen crew has arrived and is getting set up for the dinner rush. It winds up being surprisingly busy, considering the slow morning, but you’re grateful for anything to keep your mind off of Eliot and whatever the hell it is that he’s dealing with.

The next day you’re on the closing shift. You receive a text from Hardison around noon telling you that Eliot is okay. You thank him profusely before getting started on the things you need to get done before work. Finally, around the time you have to leave for your shift, you’re starting to feel better. Maybe this job is a tougher one, but with communications smoothed out, you feel reassured. It won’t be the first time Eliot has come back to you a little worse for the wear. And if he’s actually doing a sleep study like Nate said, maybe he’ll find out a few useful tidbits of information. A happy accidental byproduct.

The day is actually going pretty well until you practically crash into Sophie on the sidewalk outside the pub.

“Oh, bloody Nora!” she cries, one hand pressed to her chest as you bend down to pick up your keys, similarly startled. When you straighten up, you can tell right away that something’s wrong. Sophie may be an expert grifter, but you’ve caught her unawares.

“Sophie?” you ask, “What’s going on?” She studies you for a moment, biting her lip, and eventually sighs.

“Now listen, I’ve got to go or the whole thing is blown, just–– they’re all safe now, Parker’s taking care of Hardison and Eliot’s out of the experiment, all we have to do is––”

“Experiment?”

“It’s… really, all things considered, it’s not that bad, it––”

“Sophie,” you cut her off again, “please just tell me.” She frowns.

“Eliot went undercover into a university experiment where they were…” she sighs, “they were running sleep deprivation torture on groups of homeless men.”

Your eyes widen and you swallow thickly. Eliot hasn’t told you everything about his time in the army–– in fact, you doubt he’s told you most of it–– but he’d told you about sleep deprivation torture. How he’d been on the giving and receiving end of it, how he wouldn’t wish it on anyone, how he only understood just how evil it was once he’d been through it himself. And now he’s going through it again.

You notice, distantly, that Sophie has taken hold of your arm.

“I need to go, or the whole job could fall apart.” She levels her gaze at you. “Listen to me,” she says seriously, “Eliot is okay. Hardison’s okay. We’ll all see you tonight.” And with that, she’s off, leaving you struck dumb in the street.

Everyone at McRory’s can tell you’re on edge. You deliver the wrong orders to the wrong guests, you pour pints that are all foam. The crowd tonight is mostly regulars, which you’d be grateful for if you weren’t so preoccupied. Your coworkers pick up some of the slack, knowing you must be worried about Eliot. They don’t know exactly what he does, and no one believes any of the lies he spouts–– you keep telling him to stick to one, but he only grins and shakes his head: now where’s the fun in that?–– but they’ve all been around long enough to have seen him coming in black and blue, cut up, or worse. There are all kinds of theories floating around about the team, though none come close to the reality–– or at the very least, those who have figured it out are smart enough to keep their mouths shut.

With your relationship with Eliot being pretty much an open secret among the staff, no one bats an eye when the team straggles in and you go flying into the hitter’s arms. “Eliot,” you say, breathless, “thank god.”

He receives you with a quiet grunt at the impact, and where he might normally be a little wary at such a public display of emotion, you feel him sigh, relaxing into your touch.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he murmurs against your hair.

“Hi baby,” you croak in reply, the sound muffled against his shoulder. Eliot presses a kiss to your temple and you force yourself to pull away and look at him. The others file past you, and you reach for Hardison with one hand, catching his arm. Eliot lets you out of his hold, and though you miss the contact, you’re stunned to see Hardison is more bruised and battered than Eliot. “Holy shit,” you mumble, “what happened to you?”

“Joined a frat,” he says with a tired smile. You frown, concern pulling at your features as you look him over. “Don’t worry,” he says, giving your hand a squeeze, “your boy and my girl got me all patched up. I’m good.” He winces. “Or I will be.” You nod, letting go of his hand.

“Thank you, Hardison,” you say, “Really.” He winks.

“Any time, chica. I’ll see you later, all right?”

“See you,” you reply, already seeking Eliot’s touch again before you’ve even turned back to look at him. He takes your hands and studies you.

“How’d you find out what was going on, hmm?” he asks gently, thumb running over your knuckles. “You never get this worried unless someone gets in touch.” You sigh and lean into him again.

“Well, when I didn’t hear from you or Hardison, I got worried. I stormed up to Nate’s apartment and then I ran into Sophie, and…” You shake your head. “I just had to know you were okay.” He nods, though the look in his eyes is a little far away.

“I’m okay,” he says, though his voice is a little rougher than usual. You frown.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He hesitates, like he’s about to say more. He takes your hands in his, looks down at them like they’ll do the work for him. After a moment, it comes. 

“Hey,” he says, “think you could, uh… take me home?” 

The question practically strikes you down where you stand. Instead of doing what you want to–– instead of wrapping him in your arms and marching him out to your car, you throw a nervous glance over your shoulder.

“I–– I’m on shift,” you offer hoarsely, but before you can manage an apology, your coworker Natalie (who has been standing a little closer to the proceedings than you may have liked) interrupts.

“Are you kidding me?” she quips, “Jake’s already on his way to cover you. Get the hell out of here.” Gratitude and relief flood your features all at once.

“Really?”

“I already clocked you out, like a minute ago, so. Go. Seriously.” You look back to Eliot, who has the decency to look a little sheepish, and then skitter over to the bar to wrap your friend in an awkward hug across the lacquered wood.

“Thank you, Natty. I owe you one.” She waves you off.

“Oh, whatever. Cover my Saturday morning sometime next month so I can actually go out on a Friday.”

“Done.”

“Then we’re even,” she replies with a wink. You turn back to Eliot and he nods at the two of you.

“I’ll meet you outside,” he says, and you hurry to the back to get your things.

When you step out into the cool air, Eliot is leaned up against your car, waiting, brow furrowed in thought.

“Hey,” you say quietly, though you know the odds of startling him are slim to none. He looks up, and though he seems weary, he smiles at you. “I never got to give you a kiss,” you continue, “if you want one.” His smile widens a little at that.

“C’mere,” he says, the word caught halfway between an invitation and a plea. You lean in and take his face in your hands, pressing your mouth to his and he meets your tenderness with searing heat. You gasp softly against his lips, fingers of one hand sliding back into his hair, his hand fitting snugly against the small of your back. He kisses you like he’s afraid it will be the last time, leaving you breathless when he pulls away to rest his forehead against yours.

“Whoa,” you manage. Eliot lets out a clipped chuckle.

“Sorry,” he says, stealing another kiss, this one only a chaste peck, “sorry, I…” He shakes his head, the ends of his hair tickling your cheeks. “Felt like I was never gonna see you again.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you counter, “that was… I needed that. Trust me.” You offer a small smile as you skim your thumb across his cheek. “Now how about we get out of here, yeah?” Eliot gives the slightest of nods, a hum of agreement, but it’s a moment before he can make himself let go of you to head for the passenger seat.

The drive isn’t long, and Eliot tilts his head back against the seat and shuts his eyes. You don’t know it, but this is the first time since the university that he’s felt safe enough to do it for more than a few seconds. He doesn’t sleep, though, only listens to the quiet sounds of the road, the barely audible hush of your breathing.

With a little luck, you’re able to park close to your building, and Eliot hovers close as you make your way into the apartment. An almost tangible relief settles over the both of you once the lock slides home, and Eliot settles heavily onto the couch as you step out of your shoes. Wordlessly, you climb astride his lap and he pulls you close, face buried against your chest. His hair’s a little tangled as you start to comb your fingers through it, but you’re patient with the knots, coaxing them free so you don’t hurt him. He thumbs absent circles at the base of your spine in fits and starts, sometimes stopping and just letting you comfort him.

You can’t be sure how much time passes like that, Eliot’s breath warm against your skin, your hands in his hair, but eventually you’ve got all the knots out. You press a kiss to the crown of his head.

“Hey,” you whisper, “you hungry, sweetheart?” Slowly, he lifts his head, hair mussed adorably, thanks to your involvement.

“I could make something,” he says, expression a little foggy, though you don’t think he’d actually fallen asleep while you held him.

“Like hell you can,” you counter gently, “you’re not lifting a finger tonight. We can do takeout, hm?” 

“All right,” he concedes, looking up at you fondly.

“What sounds good?” Eliot unwraps his arms from around you and begins to trail his hands lightly up and down the length of your forearms as he weighs his options.

“Indian?” he says after a moment, “Maybe Thai?”

“Ooh, let’s do Indian; that sounds good.”

“You got it, sweetheart.” You can’t resist ducking down for a quick kiss before you disentangle yourself from Eliot’s lap, swiping your phone off the coffee table.

“You want your usual?” you ask, opening up the delivery app. Eliot is up right after you and he steps behind you and slings an arm around your waist, kissing the top of your shoulder. Warmth blooms in your chest.

“Please,” he says. “‘M gonna go take a shower. That all right?” You twist your head so you’re looking at him.

“Of course it is.” He kisses the crease that forms in your brow, then your nose, and with that, he strides off into the bathroom.

You wish he didn’t feel like he had to ask permission. Sure, this may be your apartment, but it’s as much his now as you are. He’s made a home here and in your heart, and you know he knows you’d give him anything he asked for–– and feel fuller because of it.

You also know that Eliot is a man who feels he needs permission to walk this earth. You know that every day he struggles to forgive himself for the things he’s done, asks penance for every good thing he accepts into his life now. As you change into your pajamas, you wish you could make him understand just how deserving he is. Of life, of happiness, of love. 

When the doorbell rings, the water has shut off, and you buzz in the delivery driver. You’re doling the food out onto plates when Eliot pads into the kitchen, having traded his everyday garb for sweatpants and a t-shirt.

“Feeling better?” you ask, turning from your work to take him in in all his cozy glory. He hums the affirmative and stands beside you to finish making his plate. Once you’re both settled at the table, you finally broach the subject.

“El, do you wanna talk about it?” He gives a noncommittal shrug, takes a forkful of food.

“What’d they tell you?” He doesn’t look at you.

“Not a whole lot,” you admit, “but I know you just went through at least a couple of days of sleep deprivation.” You don’t say the word torture, but then you don’t really need to. Eliot nods. He doesn’t say anything for a moment.

“Kept telling myself it’d be easy. That I’d done it before and there was a clear end in sight.” He looks up at you meaningfully, now. “Somebody to come home to.” You frown, bottom lip pinched between your teeth, and nod. “But that’s the thing about it; you lose time, start feeling delirious. Had the team in my ear the whole time, but…” He shakes his head. “It was a little too much like bein’ back there for my taste.”

You don’t know exactly where this particular ‘there’ is, but you know there are a few dark places Eliot goes when he’s sleeping, or even sometimes when he’s awake. His trauma isn’t easy for him to talk about, but you know he grapples with it often.

“Place was recruiting guys out of homeless shelters–– buncha rich kids offering three meals, a place to stay, and 50 bucks a day. Said they were studying PTSD, fuckin’ animals.” He’s getting more impassioned as he continues, but his voice is still quiet. “Pickin’ vets up off the street just to make ‘em relive the worst moments of their lives, trying to figure out how to break people––” Eliot cuts himself off, grits his teeth, and takes a slow breath. He looks at you, expression melting from angry to rueful. “Same kid behind it all had his frat beat the hell outta Hardison once they found out who I was. Got the location where they were keeping him outta the interrogator down there in less than two minutes.”

“Sounds like he got what was coming to him,” you say evenly. Eliot scoffs, and you can feel the way he deflects the vitriol away from you and onto himself.

“I’m no better’an them,” he says bitterly, not meeting your gaze, “not really. Gave me an excuse and I did the same thing they were doing.”

“El,” you say, “come on, that’s not true.” He makes himself look at you again. His eyes shine with guilt. 

“Isn’t it?”

You stand up and drag your chair closer to his and then sit back down, putting a hand on his knee. 

“Not for a second. Baby, you’re comparing yourself to men who used their power to abuse people already down on their luck. You did one bad thing to a very bad man, and you did it to save your friend.” He avoids your eyes again, jaw working silently. “And it’s eating you alive!” you cry. “Look at me,” you plead, “look at me.”

He does and your gaze is like sunlight. The warmth feels so good he can’t stand it.

“Bad people don’t worry about the things they’ve done,” you continue, “Bad people–– truly bad people–– don’t feel remorse the way you do. Bad people don’t break their backs to help people like you do. Bad people don’t love like you do… so fiercely. And so much.” Eliot is staring down at his plate, brow furrowed so deep it looks almost painful. But he nods. A little bit, he nods.

You don’t know if it’s because you’ve gotten through to him or because he wants you to feel like you have, but slow and steady has always won the race with Eliot. He reaches down to take your hand and continues eating dinner with his left. You drag your plate over, keeping your fingers laced with his, and finish your own food with your right.

Eliot insists, gently, on doing the dishes, and though you spend a few moments with your arms wrapped around him from behind, cheek pressed against his back, eventually you shuffle off to start getting ready for bed.

By the time he’s finished up, you’ve got the covers turned down on his side while you’re tucked under on yours, sitting up, waiting for him. He stands next to the bed a moment, looking apprehensive.

“What can I do?” you ask quietly. “To make it easier, I mean. Is there anything I can do?” His lips quirk into a small smile.

“You’re already doing it, sweetheart.” Eliot takes a breath and turns out the bedside lamp, crawling into bed beside you. As you lower yourself so you’re laying down, he holds out his arm, offering you your usual spot nestled against his chest. You lay your head down and he tucks his arm around you. Finally, you both feel like everything is right again.

“You sure you don’t wanna be the little spoon for a change?” you whisper, though you’re already making yourself comfortable–– an arm draped over his stomach, one ankle tucked between both of his.

“Nah,” he replies, leaning his cheek against your hair, “missed you. Missed this.” Carefully, you tilt your head back and place a soft kiss to his lips.

“You know you’re safe with me,” you say, though it sounds more like a question.

“I know.” He means it.

“I love you, Eliot.”

“I love you too, baby.”

“If you need me, wake me up, all right?” you say as you settle back into his chest.

“I’ll try––” he stops himself. “I will.”

“Good,” you whisper. It gets quiet, then, and you focus on the sound of Eliot’s heartbeat, the warmth of having him in your bed again, his arms around you. Eventually, you drift off to the sound of his slow, even breathing.

In the years that come, you’re fairly certain you can count on one hand the times Eliot has fallen asleep before you. This night is one of them.

[apocalypse-shuffle]

Five times he finds himself falling for you w/ ALEC•H

SFW, 16+ at best, mild profanity, canon typical (mild)sexual themes, 5+1 Things -chubby!reader

This depicts the mission referenced in “The Gone Fishin’ Job” (S3E7).

#ONE

It starts off the first night you stay over after you had to stay up doing research on an automotive company bigwig in Juarez with him.

Hardison knew the mission would take longer than their usual, plus he had to account for travel times and not getting caught by border patrol for their fake identities, so he called you in for some help.

While Eliot and Parker were out getting supplies, and Nate and Sophie were discussing (arguing) over the plan while meeting one of Sophie’s contacts that could get them into Mexico, you and Alec were making sure the path was clear for the rest of the team to do their thing.

The both of you had until noon tomorrow to prep everything and boy did y’all have y’all’s work cut out for you.

As such it takes hours for you two to comb through every international database, track down all public (and not so public) information you could find on your target, curate another list of identities for everyone, gather intel on escape routes out of Mexico, and a whole lot more. By the time you and Hardison had even made a dent in your itinerary it was 11am and by the time you’d passed out it was pushing two in the morning.

The team might not have known the exact scale of how much he had to do to prepare for a mission, but if anyone, you were definitely starting to learn.

You were a rival hacker he’d met years ago during his sophomore year of college, even had a little crush on for a time, but after graduation you’d jumped off the map and even he couldn’t find your chunky lil ass. On his third year with the team the feelers he’d put out for your digital signature pinged and all of a sudden you weren’t just a long lost friend.

He sent an encrypted message to you almost immediately and you’d responded with a winky face and a ‘Long time no see Alec.’ He’d been texting you on and off since then, even asking for your consultation on some things, but he hadn’t brought you in on the team until yesterday night (with Nate’s tentative forced cause they were backed against a wall approval).

Luckily you’d made it to his place at 5 am and you’d had the chance to catch up and work in relative peace since then.

Early the next morning, six or so hours before you had to debrief with the team, you guys ordered takeout then promptly passed out right afterwards.

When you woke up at five it wasn’t time for you to head to base (Nate’s apartment) yet so Alec decided to just make a place for you to sleep on his couch.

You’d gone to the bathroom to change while he got you a blanket and some pillows after changing into some pjs himself, and you don’t come out until he’s nearly finished making the couch up.

When you step into his living room in some cute satin shorts that don’t at all keep your thighs in check and a matching lace camisole he makes sure not to say anything while you’re walking to his couch. He’s too classy for that.

He does, admittedly, notice the way your thighs jiggle as you tiredly go about putting your computers in your bag, before hastily looking away as his face heats up.

Alec hadn’t seen you in this light in years.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!!

btw: there is basically nothing here but you can write a lil comment if you want to.

[ayotofu]

This is the leverage/9-1-1 anon again and my friend you are incredible you’re so right all of this is fantastic

Imagine also Elliot and Bobby getting a chance to cook with each other, for the families they made. I think they understand the significance of a meal shared, especially for men who were so resigned to their fate before they found the people who would support them enough to find their ways back home

I wanna see Parker have a moment with both of the Buckley children. Because Parker knows about feeling unwanted and unloved, sure, but more specifically she knows what it is to grow up alongside a ghost. She was a big sister like Maddie, and she lost a piece of herself along with her little brother. And even after being taken in by Archie, she wasn’t a part of a family but on the outside. Not quite fitting in. She recognises this feeling in Buck, this certainty that they both can’t quite shake that this will all end because it’s more than they deserve.

I can see Nate and Eddie butting heads quite a bit, a bit like Nate and Elliot do on occasion but there’s no foundation of trust to fall back upon.

Also Parker should totally get to help Buck on a really reckless rescue mission

(And Buck definitely convinced Hardison to help him stalk Eddie with different Hildy ads and products - eddie’d never have one in the house ofc but hey Buck is not above getting hardison to hack the digital billboard on Eddie’s commute to show ~very~ targeted hildy ads)

Oh man anon you are so incredible big brained yes thank you. eliot and bobby cooking together!!! eliot swapping cooking tips while arguing with bobby very passionately about the best way to make barbecue sauce (eliot is from the south bobby you HAVE to default to his expertise)

park with buck and maddie i just

ur killing me here

yeah i definitely think eddie and nate butt heads, because eddie's good at taking orders, yes, but from people he respects. people he trusts. he's also, sometimes, a bit of a wildcard and i think that aspect of his personality would be in full force with nate there.

i also think hardison would actually bond a lot with chim about maddie and parker/eliot. both of them are in relationships with very traumatized people and navigating that can be difficult. I think they take a couple nights to talk about it, how they had to be so, so careful to start, had to let their partners set the pace. they wouldn't change anything, but that conversation lets them feel a little more seen for the effort they put in.

(and yes, lmao. hardison would love tormenting eddie with hildy. just a little bit. as a treat.)

[somestorythoughts]

Leverage Immortals - Discovery

When it comes to finding out your entire team of good bad guys is immortal, there are a few ways it could go down. I have vague ideas with nothing sticking so I’m gonna write a few instead of one coherent scene.

Sophie doesn’t make it outside of the blast radius this time. For one terrible moment she thinks she’s going to have to fake her death completely, leave her family friends, then she takes a proper look at herself and realizes that while the burns are going to be immensely uncomfortable while they heal it won’t be lethal. The team accepts, however reluctantly, her need to leave to find herself, but they flat out refuse to let her go until she’s healed. It’s a bit annoying, but its also very sweet. But it’s also what clues Eliot and Parker in. Eliot knows bombs. Eliot’s lost count of the number of times he’s gotten bomb-related injuries, no matter how good he’s gotten at disarming them. And Parker? She likes fire and explosives. And while she’s very good at not getting caught in them she’s certainly gotten her fair share of burns. Both of them are surprised to see Sophie’s burns healing at the same rate as theirs. It’s Eliot who says something about it, Eliot who hasn’t befriended an immortal in decades and has a sudden desperate need to share this with someone, and Parker had been unobtrusively near by and joins the conversation. So now those three know about each other. They suggest that Nate is an immortal in that conversation because now they’re thinking about it and it isn’t hard to spot, but they aren’t certain. It takes longer to talk to Nate and Hardison about it  and longer to realize Hardison’s immortal as well.

Eliot’s pretty good at brushing off the team’s worries about his injuries. It soothes him to know that they care, warms him as thoroughly as a hot shower. But he insists on tending to all injuries himself.  And then there’s a job that goes really bad for him and everyone flat out refuses to leave him alone. And to be frank, he’s not really in a condition to refuse them. Everything hurts and sure this isn’t going to kill him but he also can’t really take care of those cuts that are definitely going to need stiches right now.  So Parker stiches up his back and Sophie orders food while Nate makes sure Eliot doesn’t drop his glass of water and Hardison piles ice packs on a leg he’s sure has gotta be at least fractured but Eliot waves him off and he probably knows better right?  Their attention fills Eliot’s aching body with warmth. Later Parker notices how quickly Eliot is back in shape. She prods him into letting her check on the stiches and when he can’t argue a way out of it he grouchily agrees. Nate and Sophie notice too. They aren’t as familiar with these high levels of damage, but they have a gist of their own healing rates and realize Eliot is matching that. It comes out eventually.

Parker notices an assortment of things, namely quick recoveries, and blurts it out in the middle of a team meeting.

But Hardison? There are two ways to find out that you’re immortal and under the circumstances, perhaps it isn’t a surprise that Hardison finds out the violent way. He’s shot in the chest when a job goes too far south. They rush him to the hospital, keeping their panic under control like they have too. What part of Eliot that isn’t focused on keeping Hardison alive is cursing at himself because he should have been there this shouldn’t have happened but he is right there. He has tried, with mixed results, to save a lot of people with punctured lungs. And it is only because of that that Eliot realizes Hardison is healing. “You’re immortal.”  Nate nearly crashes the car. “You too!?” Sophie shouts then yells at Nate to pull  the fuck off the road. It’s a very messy very garbled explanation in the back of the van that doesn’t go further than “Hardison won’t die, everyone in this van is an immortal, wtf” before Nate drives them back to headquarters. Hardison isn’t dying and his breathing is finally back to normal but everything hurts. Nate helps him get the blood off and Parker puts together a pile of cushions on the couch. Eliot is cooking off the stress with all the comfort food he can get his hands on and Sophie’s gone to the store for ice cream because this kind of stress calls for sweets. There’s a long talk that night but it isn’t as long as it could be cause Hardison wants an explanation but he also really wants to nestle into the safety of his family, the comfort of the couch and food, and the relief that he isn’t dead.

[schrijverr]

The 1 Time Eliot Faced Moreau + 5 Times Eliot Kept Away from Him

AKA Moreau scares Eliot, but he’ll face him again for the safety of the team. However, the team is very observant and when they notice, they do everything in their power to ensure that Eliot won’t have to go through that again.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: none

~~~~~~~~~~

+5. Eliot

Everyone around him is celebrating. As they should. Damien is locked up, they have a new president and everyone is still alive.

Still, Eliot can’t shake the feeling that it is all temporary. With Damien it’s never over, you’re never truly done. It’s only a matter of time, before you find yourself in front of the man again wherein he gives you two choices and you can only really pick one of them and then you’re right back where you started. Right back under his thumb.

All these people around him don’t know that. They have only known life under Damien’s thumb, they haven’t managed to escape, only to be pulled right back, but Eliot has. He has escaped Damien three times and so far none of them have stuck.

The first time he tried escaped Damien he hadn’t made it off the property before he got shot in the leg, an old wound that still hurts when it’s damp. The second time he made it out, only to be tracked down and bought his freedom with that job in Belgrade. Then he escaped again and nearly had to crawl back again, until that Dubenich payout saved him, but even working with Nate and the rest of the team led him right back to Damien.

This time won’t be different. It never is.

If he’s smart, he’ll go down to the Tombs right now and put an end to it. The General is back on site and his men are guarding the door, they know Eliot as an ally. It would be easy to go down there and put a bullet in Damien’s face. The only way to make sure he’ll stay out of his life.

But Eliot still isn’t over those men he killed in the warehouse just a week ago. Hell, he isn’t over all the people he killed before them either. But these men… he used to work with them, knows what terrible people they, yet his stomach still turns.

Killing Damien will haunt him as much as it will bring him peace. He doesn’t know whether more blood on his hands will be worth it. Or if Damien will manipulate him again once he sees him, it could be a risk to go down there. Damien has always known what buttons to push.

So, he just keeps standing at the bar, contemplating his decision as he watches the happy people of San Lorenzo. The people they’d helped.

In the crowd he spots the happy General dancing with his daughter, Nate trying to keep Sophie away from burning her character, and Hardison and Parker at the snacks arguing as they shove hors d’oeuvres in their mouths.

Eliot suspects both pairs will disappear soon, sneak off somewhere. Surprisingly that thought doesn’t fill him with dread like it would have yesterday. He actually feels okay leaving them out of sight, even with Damien in the same country, his men still everywhere.

He feels okay with it.

He feels safe.

The thought is too weird to put into words, so he pinches himself and lets his eyes dart between Nate and Sophie, and Hardison and Parker.

Nate is gesturing with his glass with one hand, the other on Sophie’s back as he leads her away, while Sophie is pouting, but letting herself be moved. Hardison is making a face at whatever he has just eaten, obviously not agreeing with the taste, while Parker laughs at him, her mouth smeared with chocolate, her eyes twinkling.

All of them are happy and safe. Eliot has long known that he would do anything to keep them all happy like that, including facing Damien Moreau again. If he wants to keep them safe, he’ll have to go through that one more time. Just ruin his soul and mind one last time and it’ll be done.

Then Parker spots him and sends him a toothy grin. Hardison also looks his way then points to one of the hors d’oeuvres and mouths: “These are nasty, man.”

Despite the dark thoughts plaguing him, Eliot laughs at that. These are his teammates, the people he wants to stay next to. And deep down, he knows that he doesn’t want to leave the party. He doesn’t want to go down there and have to face Damien, have to kill him.

It is a huge risk to let Damien live, but it was also a huge risk to come here. And the team pulled it off, they got to Damien, the first and only people to ever do that. They met him and weren’t ensnared, they got out. They put him away.

Eliot realizes the team being there makes him feel safe.

All throughout this con, he hasn’t had to face Damien. Everyone had always needed him somewhere else. It suddenly clicks that the four of them made sure he didn’t have to face Damien this con.

He’s a bit embarrassed that they caught on to how much Damien scares him, but he’s too grateful to be truly upset about it. Because Damien does scare him, he scares Eliot so much and the fact that he hasn’t had to see him chokes him up with relief.

In that moment, he knows he knows he can’t kill Damien. The others will know that it was him and he can’t bear to face them after he disregarded all they’ve done for him. Can’t face them when they know he’s killed again. Those men in the warehouse can be self defense, this would be stone cold murder.

So, he orders three drinks and goes over to see what hors d’oeuvre pissed off Hardison this time and see if he can teach him so more about food. Having Hardison accept his presence again after that pool is the closest to salvation he’ll ever get.

The next day, Eliot is shaking inside as they board the plane, but he keeps on a strong facade as he listens to the team’s usual banter. Eliot is ignoring them, because if he looses focus, he’ll storm off the plane and into the Tombs before they can take off.

Because despite it all Eliot is still scared. He’s fucking terrified.

Damien is the one person Eliot never wants to face again. And right now he might be sitting in a San Lorenzo prison cell, but Eliot can’t be sure that will last forever.

There might come a day where Damien will be back and Eliot will have to face him again. The thought alone is enough to make him nervous. But he gets on the plane anyway and leaves Damien behind him.

Eliot knows that if the time comes, he’ll face Damien again to keep the team safe, but today, he doesn’t have to face him, because the team made sure he never had to. They’ll probably never know how much their intervention meant to him, but with Damien behind bars, Eliot will have the rest of his life to prove it to them.

[aardvaark]

absolutely YES. they each have their own sets of knowledge as well as extensive knowledge of a suspicious amount of careers, industries, countries, art, etc. however, as per usual, they have the issue of being TOO competent.

judge: how many times has the famous painting "the scream" by edvard munch been stolen

parker & sophie, at once: three times!

judge: inc-

sophie: wait, parker… three times?

parker: three times… oh.

[they start whisper arguing]

judge: um. anyway, incorrect, it was stolen twice. no points.

parker: shh, this doesn’t concern you!

//

judge: [asks military/war related question]

nate: eliot, you got this one?

eliot, whispering back: it depends… on what has been declassified…

//

judge: here’s a diagram of an oblique triangle with the length of two sides and degree of one angle given. what’s the length of the other side, marked x? you’re allowed your calculators.

parker, immediately: 7’ 2" :)

judge: correct. 10 points.

eliot: how’d you know that? you just do that math in your head?

parker: yeah it’s like if i was planning a heist at a bank and i had to figure out how long it would take me to get from my entry point to the vault door to the-

sophie: hang on, so when you say something will take you 26 seconds, you’re not just estimating or basing it on previous jobs?

parker: no of course not. there’s tons of variables and they’re different every time. distance, lines of sight, time of day, restrictiveness of clothing, smell… wait, are you just estimating when you tell us how long your grifts will take?

sophie: well, yes.

parker: ohhh so that’s why you’re always wrong

sophie: i- excuse me-!

judge: can i just ask the next question please

//

judge: what mythical creature in homer’s odyssey lured humans by signing?

sophie: sirens ;)

judge: correct! and actually, many people think sirens are supposed to be half-human and half-fish like mermaids, but did you know that they were actually described as half-human and half-bird!

hardison, evidently still upset about an earlier question: why would we trust a man who doesn’t know the difference between star wars canon and star wars legends lore,

//

judge: where is vincent van gogh’s starry night currently exhibited?

nate: musée d’orsay, in paris

judge: yep, 5 points.

sophie, whispering to nate: it’s cute you still think that

nate, whispering to sophie: it’s cute you think i think that

I bet the Leverage crew makes for an unbeatable bar trivia team

[the-erstwhile-baker]

The Renaissance Job

- [ ] You’re the Forger for the team; this involves getting every prop they need, set-dressing, etc. Realistically, Hardison shouldn’t have the time or skill to do ALL of it.

- [ ] You’ve been on the team since their move to Boston, when they realized they needed another person.

- [ ] You’re best friends with Parker and Hardison; you vibe with Parker’s neurodivergent energy and love talking sci-fi with Alec, even if your computer knowledge is. Tragically bad.

- [ ] You’ve had a crush on Eliot for months; you worry about him constantly on the job, but are always a little intimidated by him. Not that you think he would ever hurt you, but you just don’t think you and him are on the same level in terms of what you add to the team/your level of expertise. You make posters; he can take out a dozen armed guys without breaking a sweat.

- [ ] One day, one of your maker friends comes to you in distress that her corsetry designs have been stolen and copied by a popular fast fashion corporation

- [ ] She’s tried to sue for theft of intellectual property but as it wasn’t patented and they can afford way more court fees….it doesn’t go anywhere.

- [ ] At the next renfaire she and her husband were at, he was jousting and there was an “accident” that wasn’t really an accident. He was seriously injured, and she knows it was done by the company to silence her.

- [ ] She needs her designs back more than ever now, as her business is suffering and she can’t pay her husband’s medical bills if it keeps on this trajectory.

- [ ] Of course you bring her to Nate, and the team takes the job.

- [ ] At first, your plan is simple: break into the offices of the company with some ruse (think the fashion week episode, but a little calmer and more corporate) and create a distraction big enough to get Parker into the head guys office so she can plant a usb drive and Hardison can retrieve the design files.

- [ ] But when you get them, you realize: there are hundreds of other artists they’ve done this to. Hardison runs a search and finds out that quite a few of them have family members or have themselves sustained injuries under mysterious circumstances.

- [ ] It becomes a bigger picture: so, let’s go steal ourselves a Renaissance Faire.

- [ ] While you could pose as a maker yourself, you decide that the best way to handle this would be to steer the mark into the hands of the cops, so your cover doesn’t get too much scrutiny in a way that might negatively affect the case. Basically, you’re going to have to catch them red-handed in the actual act.

- [ ] So, you go undercover at a renfaire!!!!

- [ ] You have never been more excited

- [ ] You got to make renfaire outfits for all your friends, your crush, and yourself. Holy shit.

- [ ] Nate is the most practically dressed; simple, quasi-Elizabethan outfit: floppy circular hat, puffy pants, feather, brown cloak, etc. nothing too flashy, but definitely nice. He’ll be in the background, keeping an eye on everyone and everything—particularly the management of the faire.

- [ ] Sophie is enveloped in her fortune tellers getup: shawls, a headscarf, heavy makeup, many amulets, jangly bracelets, etc. she kinda loves it, though it is a bit much. It’s perfect for her. She’ll talk to makers and visitors through her sessions and gather information that way.

- [ ] Parker is dressed as a rogue: leather pants and jacket, all tightly fitted, with TONS of pockets and a utility belt with all kinds of fun toys that for once, she doesn’t even have to hide. She’s having so much fun getting to be entirely herself in public that she doesn’t even argue with you about the elf ears. She’ll be picking pockets of anyone the rest of the team deems suspicious, looking for connections to the corporation.

- [ ] Hardison, as there’s no tech to hack at a renfaire, is a jester. He is less than pleased about this. Though he’s a nerd, he prefers sci-fi to fantasy. (This confuses Eliot.) By far. He is very upset at the thought of a place with no computers and no modern amenities. He will be on pickpocket duty with Parker, providing distraction for her to steal, keeping an eye out, and making sure she doesn’t get herself into too much trouble. (Ha.)

- [ ] And Eliot….you simply couldn’t resist. And why should you? It was perfect for the con. You dress Eliot as a knight, complete with full suit of armor. He’ll be security, as usual, but also have another job. If/when the rest of you identify a maker who is likely to be the next target, he’ll act as bodyguard to them and whatever family they have there.

- [ ] And you. You’re dressed much as you would actually dress to go to a renfaire. Simple brown or green skirt with hikes, brown boots, lovely stays and a chemise. Your only real concession to fun is a set of beautiful deer antlers adorned with flowers, plus a little makeup. Hardison has gotten you into the renfaire lineup of performers as a musician; you plan to put the many folk songs and murder ballads you know to good use. The stage is set up right next to the makers’ tents, so you’ll have an excellent view and be able to point the others in a certain direction.

- [ ] It starts off fine

- [ ] Nate’s at the entrance, pretending to be management and keeping an eye both on employees and visitors coming in

- [ ] Sophie’s got her booth set up

- [ ] Without any specific mark to target yet, Parker is HAVING SO MUCH FUN. she’s turning cartwheels, stealing shit and then openly giving it back with a smile (causing many startled looks, as well as laughter) and it’s just making her so happy that she’s being completely herself—not Alice white—and people are accepting her.

- [ ] Hardison is wrangling her, pretending to be grumpy at “his girlfriend” but really loving watching her be so happy

- [ ] Eliot’s walking around near the makers tents and the stage, one hand on his sword (bc ofc u got him a sword, who are you kidding), looking out for trouble or people with any “distinctive” characteristics

- [ ] You’re onstage, about to begin your set of folk songs. You’re nervous, because the team has never heard you sing before and you’ve never really talked about that part of your life until the prep for this job

- [ ] You’re especially nervous bc Eliot is closest to you and can watch, though ofc everyone can hear you on comms

- [ ] You sing a few songs; Sophie says that she had an odd customer—he was twitchy and seemed disinterested in the reading until she told him to beware of the future of his career or something, and he freaked out a bit and snapped at her before leaving quickly.

- [ ] That puts Parker and Hardison on his tail; Hardison tells bad jokes in a weird, awful Shakespearean dialect. When no one laughs, he starts juggling badly, and then turns it into slapstick at his own expense, which finally gets laughs enough for Parker to steal the guys wallet

- [ ] She scans his cards and returns his wallet to him with a little bow. He’s angry and storms off, though the crowd sides with Parker for staying “in character.” She’s a lil confused but happy nonetheless.

- [ ] Parker and Hardison go back to Sophie’s tent where she’s put up a “closed” sign

- [ ] That’s where they’re keeping the tech

- [ ] Hardison does his thing and finds that he’s recently received a big payment from a shell company that traces back to the fast fashion corp

- [ ] During this Eliot is subtly tailing the guy while you and Nate keep an eye on things

- [ ] When Eliot sees the guy about to approach a booth, Nate tells you and Sophie to go help him and gather information

- [ ] The two of you make your way over there and plant a bug on the guy

- [ ] You and Sophie and Eliot continue shopping around while Hardison listens and Eliot keeps an eye out for suspicious activity

- [ ] Sophie asks you if you think a particular item would be a good favor to give your boyfriend

- [ ] You’re playing along, a little confused, until Sophie motions get head toward Eliot

- [ ] You blush hugely and deny everything (it just sounds like a cover convo to the rest of the team) but Sophie can tell the truth of everything. She buys the favor for you :)

- [ ] Just then Alec comes in saying that he’s just heard a very interesting convo from the bug, and plays it for y’all over comms

- [ ] It starts with the guy proposing a deal of some sort to the maker to sell their design to the company, but the maker refuses. The guy pretends to be okay with that, asking if he can just buy one then, “to admire it”

- [ ] The maker obvs says no, she’s heard about all the stuff going on and he’s not trying very hard to hide it. He then threatens her and her family without specifics. The maker still refuses and threatens to call the cops on him. He laughs and says good luck trying to prove anything, then walks away.

- [ ] Y’all meet up back at Sophie’s fortune telling tent to make a game plan

- [ ] Hardison runs the makers name and gets her relatives and friends names but how are you gonna know who they’re gonna target??

- [ ] You recognize one name though—from a sign at the faire. It’s her brother, who’s going to be fighting at the tournament

- [ ] Hardison runs a background check on the guy he’ll be fighting and it turns out it’s a fake persona

- [ ] Eliot looks at photos and videos and knows he’s a professional

- [ ] The fight starts in ten minutes and no one is sure quite what to do other than that you have to save the brother

- [ ] At first Eliot is just gonna go knock the guy out, but Nate stops him for two reasons. Firstly, because the company would just send another person another day. Secondly, because he thinks provoking him during the fight will get him to confess something.

- [ ] So y’all all run over to the tournament; Eliot takes the surcoat, banner, and helmet from the brother, briefly explaining what’s going on, and goes out for him (visor down, obvs)

- [ ] The hired guy fights dirty, and Eliot lets him get several good shots in until he gets in close

- [ ] The guy starts taunting him about his sisters designs, making it out to be her fault and her choice over him

- [ ] He basically confessed the whole plan in an attempt to intimidate who he thinks is the brother

- [ ] Eliot is wearing a mic, and Hardison tells him they’ve got it over comms; they’ll send it to bonanno later

- [ ] That’s when the guy hits Eliot really hard, and you scream his name in worry. Confused, the guy takes Eliot’s helmet off—and his face is priceless. Eliot then takes. Him. Down. In the most epic sword fight you’ve seen in person

- [ ] You’re VERY distracted by this turn of events

- [ ] The crowd loves it; they think all of this was just a particularly well-executed tournament for their entertainment

- [ ] The announcers ask him about the favor he’s wearing

- [ ] You’re confused when he blushes a little; wasn’t that just the favor the brother was wearing??? But as you look closer, you realize it’s the favor Sophie bought for you

- [ ] You glare at Parker, who immediately folds and says Sophie told her to

- [ ] You’re blushing furiously as they have you come down for a picture with Eliot, and you’re extremely embarrassed as he seems to be acting a bit awkward

- [ ] You don’t say much on the ride back, running the days events through your mind over and over

- [ ] You’re upset because you were having such a good time on this job—getting to dress your friends, sing, etc—but Sophie just had to meddle and now everything’s ruined and he’s probably never even going to speak to you again

- [ ] When you get back to the office, you head immediately for your workshop to distract yourself and be alone

- [ ] But that backfires

- [ ] Because a few minutes later Eliot walks in; he doesn’t know how to get the suit of armor off by himself

- [ ] You laugh a little bitterly, thinking that it’s just your luck

- [ ] You help him take everything off

- [ ] He’s awkward and doesn’t say much the whole time, making you feel even worse

- [ ] You take off the favor and are rambling about how it’s stupid and Sophie shouldn’t have bought it and so on and you’re just going to throw it away when Eliot stops you

- [ ] He asks if he can keep it

- [ ] You’re shocked and you briefly wonder if he means anything by it

- [ ] But then your defenses slam into place and you’re like “yeah sure, make fun of the nerd who makes stupid costumes and blah blah blah” “you obviously didn’t want to wear it with how you were acting after etc”

- [ ] And he’s confused and hurt like “why would I make fun of you and how is this doing that anyway”

- [ ] And finally you just can’t take it anymore and you look at him, crying, and you tell him you have feelings for him

- [ ] He’s confused and is like but you don’t talk to me very much

- [ ] You say you’re intimidated by him

- [ ] His shoulders slump and you immediately realize that you’ve made a mistake

- [ ] That he thinks of himself only as a killer, a weapon, and you think of him that way too

- [ ] You quickly move to reassure him that’s not what you meant, that you meant in terms of what he contributes to the team, what he’s able to do, that your job seems stupid and pointless by comparison

- [ ] He looks at you incredulous

- [ ] He talks about how you create things when he destroys

- [ ] And he admits that…he wants to keep the favor because he has feelings for you too

- [ ] He has for a long time

- [ ] And that hearing you sing was so distracting he almost blew the entire con

- [ ] That hearing you call his name gave him new strength

- [ ] (Not all this at once but interspersed throughout the scene)

- [ ] You kiss!!

- [ ] !!!!

- [ ] And then you hear cheers and clapping and are VERY confused

- [ ] Until you hear Alec say “goddamn, finally!” And realize with horror that you’ve still been on comms the entire. Fucking. Time.

- [ ] Eliot says “damn it Hardison” and blushes a LOT

- [ ] then you get a mischievous look in your eye and raise an eyebrow at Eliot

- [ ] He grins and says something to the effect of “you might not like hearing what comes next” and Hardison VERY QUICKLY turns off the comms

- [ ] You both take your earbuds out and laugh and laugh

- [ ] And begin to kiss some more.

- [ ] fin :)

[yoyomarules]

Dream melodramatic ot3 declaration of feelings scenario (that I’m thinking about post-s5, but could certainly work for Redemption) is this:

This time it’s Eliot who steps on the bomb.

They’re only meant to be doing recon, and he almost wants to laugh when he hears the click, a little past the boundary of their mark’s sprawling land. Years of precautions and paranoia and he’s about to get taken out by a fucking booby-trap like an expendable character in one of Hardison’s action movies.

Parker and Hardison are still walking up ahead, and for a second he thinks about letting them go, letting them get clear of the danger zone and then just lifting his foot. Only he swallows, watching them, lump rising fast in his throat—he hasn’t been scared of death itself for a long, long time, but the idea of never talking to them again, never looking at them again, never telling them—

Well. It’s unbearable.

Besides that, while the placement of the device suggests it’s the only one, he can’t be sure, and besides that, it doesn’t take them long to notice he’s no longer right behind them.

‘You okay?’ Hardison calls, and the look on Eliot’s face must be answer enough, because they’re both coming back to him before he can choke out a warning.

‘So yeah,’ he manages, when they’re within a few feet of him. He holds himself very, very still, even as his heart seems to hurl itself over and over at the walls of his chest. ‘Looks like our guy went to the Udall school of home security.’

‘Eliot,’ Parker whispers, eyes dropping to his feet. Her mouth sets into a firm line. ‘How do we fix this?’

‘You can’t.’

‘It’s okay; we’re gonna figure it out,’ Hardison assures him.

‘You should get out of here,’ Eliot says, through gritted teeth. There are no wires for Parker to pull this time, no clever computer resets for Hardison to try.

‘We’re not doing that,’ Hardison says immediately, dropping to a crouch to try to get a better look at the barely-buried pressure plate, and Eliot wants to scream.

‘You need—I’m serious, you both need to get as far away as possible. We don’t know if this thing’s on a timer or—’

‘Then we’d better figure it out fast,’ Parker says, squatting down next to Hardison.

Then they’re talking to each other, the two of them, but he’s not really processing what they’re saying. Instead his pulse is thundering in his ears and he’s thinking about the pie he’d planned on making later. How they’d have both picked at the raw pastry and he’d have pretended to be annoyed at them. How they’d have argued they had just as much say in how this pie came together, because Eliot had dragged them out of the city to pick the berries specially (had watched the two of them goof around—Parker smushing a ripe blackberry against Hardison’s mouth and then kissing the deep purple stains away, Hardison putting Parker up on his shoulders so she could reach high into the hedgerows—and felt the odd mix of longing and deep contentment that is sunk into his bones by now, thrumming warm and sweet through his veins, settled forever into every atom).

It would’ve been good, that pie, and it would have been even better to watch them eat it, Parker with so much ice cream she’d get brain freeze, Hardison with that awful powder mix custard, at their dinner table in their home that they built together.

‘I need to tell you something,’ Eliot says.

‘—makes sense that it’d be deactivated remotely,’ Hardison is saying.

‘I need to tell you something,’ Eliot says, louder.

Hardison breaks off and looks up at him, warm, keen eyes searching his face. ‘Does it relate to how we defuse the bomb you’re standing on?’

‘No,’ he says, and his voice cracks right down the middle, and his lower lip trembles before he bites it still and continues, ‘’cause you can’t defuse it, and if I’m gonna die then I gotta tell you both—’

‘No one’s dying,’ Parker says sharply.

‘What she said,’ Hardison agrees. ‘We’re gonna figure this out like we always do—’

‘You can’t—’

‘Like we always do, and then we’re gonna go home and we’re gonna take the rest of today off, ’cause we’re gonna have sure as hell earned it, what with disarming a bomb and all—’

‘Hardison—’

‘—and then you’ll tell us whatever you’ve gotta tell us, and we’ll be able to listen. Like, really listen.’

‘And really answer,’ Parker adds.

‘And really answer,’ Hardison echoes, and lets the words hang in the air just a moment before continuing. ‘But right now we’re gonna need you to get your head in the game, El. Can’t work it out without you.’

Eliot takes a deep, shuddering breath. ‘Okay,’ he says. ‘Okay.’

*

They work it out. They always do. Eliot kind of wants to bake anyway, except he feels more wiped than after any fight he can remember, and so instead he ends up on a chair in the kitchen, talking Parker and Hardison through the recipe. They steal bits of the pastry and Eliot can only smile.

The pie they make isn’t good; it’s amazing. The filling’s a little sweeter than Eliot would’ve made it, the crust perhaps a little less flaky, but it’s the best thing he’s ever eaten. He watches Parker lean over to steal some of Hardison’s, listens to him squawk, ‘Girl, there’s an entire damn dish of it in the kitchen!’ and then he thinks I almost never had this again, and it feels like looking over a steep drop.

‘Yeah, but it tastes better this way,’ Parker says, mouth full.

Hardison reaches across and takes a forkful of Eliot’s pie and says, ‘There. Now we’re even.’

‘How is that even?’ Eliot demands.

Hardison shrugs. ‘I don’t know, man. Just is.’

‘What’s yours is his is mine is ours,’ Parker reasons.

‘Exactly,’ Hardison says, with a satisfied nod.

Eliot’s not even fully aware he’s about to do it when he lets his fork clatter onto his plate and says, ‘I love you.’

They both stop eating and turn to look at him.

‘Fuck,’ Eliot chokes, and it’s like he’s come unstoppered or something, because the words are just pouring out, his voice shaking: ‘I love you. I love you both so much; I—I don’t even remember what it was like not loving you and I don’t wanna not say it anymore, and I’m—I’m sorry if this is—weird, or uncomfortable; I’m not asking you for anything. I just—I need you to know—’

They move, by mutual silent agreement, pulling their chairs round either side of him. Parker clings to him, tucking her face into the crook of his neck, and Hardison wraps his arms around him, kissing the top of his head over and over, while Eliot covers his face with his hands in a desperate bid to shut himself up.

‘Eliot, Eliot,’ Hardison says, between kisses. ‘Baby. We love you too.’

‘So much,’ Parker adds.

‘And we don’t wanna not say it anymore, either,’ Hardison tells him. ‘Whatever it is you want from us, we wanna give it.’

Eliot screws up his fists against his eyes for a moment, voice rough when he asks, ‘Yeah?’

‘Yes,’ Hardison says, while Parker nods against Eliot’s shoulder. ‘Yeah, hundred percent. We’re all in, always have been. ’Til our dying day.’

He’s pretty sure this is going to take him apart more thoroughly than any bomb, that the only thing stopping him from falling to pieces right here at their table is the two of them beside him. And as if they know that too they press in tighter, and Eliot gets an arm around each of them and pulls them in closer still, and they hold on to each other, here, safe, in their home that they built together. And slowly, slowly, everything that’s been roiling inside Eliot since the second he put a foot wrong earlier settles and stills and is calm. He never wants to let go.

‘I’m sorry I waited so long to tell you,’ he says eventually, speaking low into the warm silence. ‘When I think about—if I hadn’t ever said it—and we couldn’t—today, if we couldn’t—’ He breaks off, swallowing.

‘Yeah,’ Hardison says, and his voice is trembling the tiniest bit, and Parker makes a small, distressed sound against Eliot’s neck, and for the first time he truly understands how scared they’d been, too. 

Hardison’s lips brush his temple. ‘Well,’ he says, steadier now. ‘You were worth the wait.’

[nevermindirah]

Do you have any thoughts on the use of AAVE for Nile (or lack thereof) in TOG fanfiction? I've been reading some Book of Nile fic and some writers seem to write her as a Millennial™ (using words like "fave" and "woke") but never acknowledge her Blackness in her patterns of speech. I know we don't see her use as much AAVE in the films, but I would argue she's in situations where code-switching would be valued (first in a "professional" environment in the army, then around a group of non-Black strangers).

Hi anon! I have many thoughts on this and I'm honored you asked me! But I should start by saying I'm white and any thoughts Black fans and especially Black American fans have on this that they want to share would be beyond lovely. (I'm not gonna tag anybody bc that feels rude but please add onto this post if any of y'all see this and want to!)

The main reason I personally avoid AAVE for Nile in my own fics is because I'm not Black. But Nile-centric fics by Black writers tend to avoid using much of it too, at least from what I've noticed/understood, and my guess is it's largely for the reason you mention, that she's in situations that encourage code-switching.

In movie canon Nile is highly competent at tailoring her language to each situation she finds herself in. This fantastic linguistics analysis meta shows how skillfully Nile chooses her vocabulary and grammar to meet her goals with different conversation partners in different contexts. In comics canon Nile had a bunch of different civilian jobs before joining the Marines, so she would've had experience code-switching in the ways that made sense for all those different contexts as well as the Marines and her family and high school and wherever else she spent her time before we met her. And now she's spending her time with a handful of immortals none of whom are native English speakers and a fellow Black American but one with a Queen's English UK accent whose professional experience is in the CIA where high-status code-switching is often an absolute must for success or even survival.

Fics featuring Nile are charged with extrapolating from that to how it might show up in her use of language that she's coping with a traumatic separation from her family and her career and pretty much everything she's ever known and now she needs to be able to make herself understood to people who seem to care about her and each other but are super duper in crisis, three (soon to be four) of whom predate Modern English entirely and the only one who's anywhere near her contemporary she's not supposed to talk to for a century. All of these people are telling her that pretty much any contact with any mortals poses an existential threat to her and the rest of the group. How the FUCK is she supposed to cope with that, like, generally? And would it be a more effective way for her to cope if she talked to Andy Joe and Nicky using the speech patterns that she used to use with her mom and brother, to at least retain that part of her identity even if it means having to do a lot of explaining, or would it meet her needs better to prioritize Andy Joe and Nicky understanding what she means with her words over using the particular words and grammar forms she used with her family?

I've seen several fics, both Nile-centric / BoN and otherwise, explore this a little bit in how/whether Nile uses Millennial™ speak. It's often a theme in Nile texting Booker despite the exile because of the popular headcanon that he as The Tech Guy is the only other immortal who understands memes. But Nile's much-younger-than-Booker mom probably uses Boomer and/or Gen X memes and Andy has been adapting to new communication styles for forever as evidenced by her canon high level of fluency with standard-American-accented English.

Which brings us back to people avoiding AAVE because they're not Black and they don't want to make mistakes (or they're not Black and they don't want to get yelled at for making mistakes, though I think many people overestimate how much they'll get yelled at while underestimating how much these mistakes can hurt). I can imagine some Black fans hold back from using much AAVE in fic because they don't want to share in-group stuff with white people who are likely to then adopt and ruin it, as white people so often do with Black cultural stuff. Some links about this including a great Khadija Mbowe video. I'm saying this gently, anon, because you might not know: woke, an example you cited as Millennial™ speak, is AAVE, and that's gotten erased by so many white people appropriating it and using it incorrectly online.

And also there's the part where fandom is a hobby and you never know when you're reading a fic that's the very first thing someone's ever written outside of a school assignment. This cultural considerations of language shit takes a level of effort and skill that not everybody puts into every fic, or even could if they wanted to because they haven't had time to build their skills yet. It's definitely easier for non-Black fans to project our millennial feels onto Nile than to do the layers of research and self-reflection it requires to depict what Blackness might mean to Nile, and it's not surprising that often people sharing their hobby creations on the internet have gone the easier route. There's not even necessarily shame in doing what's easier. It's just frustrating and often hurtful when structural white supremacy means that 3-dimensional Black characters are rare in media and thoughtful explorations of them in fandom are seen by the majority of fans as not-easy to make and therefore Nile Freeman, the main character in The Old Guard (2020) dir. Gina Prince-Bythewood, has the least fic and meta and art made about her of our 5 main immortals.

I've been active in different fandoms off and on for twenty years and I barely managed to write 5,000 words about Sam Wilson across multiple different fics in the 7 years since I fell in love with him. There's an alchemy to which characters we connect with, and on top of that which characters we connect with in a way that causes us to create stuff about them. Something about Nile Freeman finally tipped me over the edge from a voracious reader to a voracious writer. It's not for me to judge which characters speak to other individuals to the level of creating content about them, but I do think it's important for us to notice, and then work to fight, the pattern where across this fandom as a whole Nile gets way less content, and way less depth in so much of the content that's in theory about her, than any of these other characters.

Anyway, back to language. My two long fics feature Nile with several Black friends — Copley and OCs and cameos from other media — but all of those characters except Alec Hardison from Leverage aren't American. It's very possible I'm guilty of stereotyping Black British speech patterns in I See Your Eyes Seek a Distant Shore. I watched hours and hours of Black haircare YouTube videos in the research for that fic and I modeled my OCs' speech patterns on what I heard from some of those YouTubers as well as what I've heard people like John Boyega and Idris Elba saying in interviews, but the thing about doing your best is you still might fuck up.

I'm slowly making progress on my WIP where Nile and Sam Wilson are cousins, and what ways of talking with a family member might be authentic for Nile is a major question I need to figure out. For that, I'm largely modeling my writing choices on how I hear my Black friends and colleagues talking to each other. I haven't overheard colleagues talking in an office in a long-ass time, but back when that was a thing, I remember seeing a ton of nuance in the different ways many of my Black colleagues would talk to each other. Different people have different personalities! And backgrounds! And priorities! A few jobs ago my department was about 1/3 Black and we worked closely with Obama administration staff many of whom were Black and there was SO MUCH VARIETY in how Black people talked to each other, about work and workplace-appropriate personal stuff, where I and other white coworkers could hear. There are a few work friends in particular who I have in my head when I'm trying to imagine how Sam and Nile might talk to each other. From the outside looking in, God DAMN is shit complicated, intellectually and interpersonally and spiritually, for Black people who are devoting their professional lives to public service in the United States.

One more aspect of this that I have big thoughts on but I need to take extra care in talking about is the idea of acknowledging Nile's Blackness in her patterns of speech. There's no one right way to be Black, and Nile's a fictional character created by a white dude but there are plenty of real-life Black Americans who don't use much or even any AAVE, for reasons that are complicated because of white supremacy. (Highly highly recommend this video by Shanspeare on the harms of the Oreo stereotype.)

Something that's not the same but has enough similarity that I think it's worth talking about is my personal experience with authenticity and American Jewish speech patterns. My Jewish family members don't talk like they're in The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, and I've known lots of people who do talk that way (or the millennial version of it), some of whom have questioned my Jewishness because I don't talk that way. That hurts me. Sometimes when another Jew tells me some shit like "I've never heard a Jew say y'all'd've," I can respond with "well now you have asshole, bless your Yankee-ass heart," because the myth of Dixie is a racist lie but I will totally call white Northerners Yankees when they're being shitty to me for being Southern, and this particular Jew fucking revels in using "bless your heart" with maximum polite aggression, especially with said Yankees. But sometimes I don't have it in me to say anything and it just quietly hurts having an important part of me disbelieved by someone who shares that important part of me. The sting isn't quite the same when non-Jews disbelieve or discount my Jewishness, but that hurts too.

Who counts as authentically Jewish is a messy in-group conversation and it doesn't really make sense to explain it all here. Who counts as authentically Jewish is a matter of legal status for immigration, citizenship, and civil rights in Israel, and it's my number 2 reason after horrific treatment of Palestinians that I'm antizionist. But outside that extremely high-stakes legal situation, it can just feel really shitty to not be recognized as One Of Us, especially by your own people.

It can also feel really shitty to be The Only One of Your Kind in a group, even if that group is an immortal chosen family who all loves each other dearly. Sometimes especially in a situation like that where you know those people love you but there are certain things they don't get about you and will never quite be able to. I'm definitely projecting at least a little bit of my "lonely Jew who will be alone again for yet another Jewish holiday" stuff onto Nile when at the end of I See Your Eyes Seek a Distant Shore she's thinking about being the only Black immortal and moving away from the community she'd built with a mostly-Black group of mortals in that fic. Maybe that tracks, or maybe that's fucked up of me.

Basically, this got very long but it's complicated, writing about experiences that aren't your own takes skill which in turn takes time and practice to build, writing about experiences not your own that our society maligns can cause a lot of harm if done badly, it can also cause a lot of harm when a large enough portion of a fandom just decides to nope out of something that's difficult and risky because then there's just not much content about a character who deserves just a shit ton of loving and nuanced content, people are individuals and two people who come from the exact same cultural context might show that influence in all kinds of different ways, identity is complicated, language is complicated, writing is hard, and empathy and humility and doing our best aren't a guarantee of avoiding harm but they do go a long way in helping people create thoughtful content about a character as awesome and powerful and kind and messy and scared and curious and WORTHY as Nile Freeman.

[daughter-of-the-clayr]

#okay I’m actually thinking about this#Luther could absolutely stand toe-to-toe against Hardison (in fact that’s an incredible match up let’s all just think about that for a sec)#and Ethan is at least as much of a hitter as Elliot#he even has the ‘listen you’re currently beating me up but I still want to help improve your form’ energy#Ilsa is no Sophie even tho I adore Ilsa (Ilsa has too many compunctions around lying)#Benji likewise could no hold a candle to Parker (sorry Benji darling it’s just not your skillset)#and idk who that would leave as Nate uhhh Kittridge? Jim?#either are hilarious options considering how poorly their respective manipulations went in MI1#so yeah OP after a thorough comparison I agree Leverage has more diverse talent than MI crew#OH WAIT WHAT ABOUT GRACE AS PARKER THO????#oh shit that’s something to consider#mission impossible#leverage

tags courtesy of @interropunct bc. i'm going to break this down.

focusing on the og leverage team bc i don't know as much about redemption.

firstly, i absolutely agree on luther vs hardison being a throwdown for the ages. i think it'd be like hardison vs chaos but they don't actually hate each other. i think benji also being present would help, but it would still come down to those two.

i don't think ilsa is a sophie equivalent - i think she's a hitter, like elliot. and i think they would know each other, and i think it'd be a very close fight. ilsa's willingness to use guns gets her a point, but i think it'd mostly come down to circumstances and luck, in the end. they're quite evenly matched (i do think elliot could beat the shit out of gabriel, but the only reason ilsa lost that fight was plot anyway).

i'd argue that sophie's closest equivalent is grace. for all that she is primarily a thief, she mostly seems to rely on grifting and pickpocketing - both skills sophie shares. she doesn't have parker or apollo's gymnastic ability or willingness to throw themselves off the sides of a building - that's primarily ethan's Thing. i think grace loses to sophie, because sophie has incredible control of herself. grace loses her cool and freaks out - sophie got shot and called nate a wanker. more than that, sophie adapts on the fly constantly.

which leaves us with ethan, nate, and parker. ethan is a lot like parker - pickpocketing, stunts, thrillseeking - but he's even more of a grifter. he's a lot like starke, being a mastermind that's hands on, involved in the con - and willing to beat the shit out of people. between parker and nate, i think they could match him - not in fighting ability, but in everything else, especially given nate's ability as a grifter (and i think nate's grifts would drive ethan insane and it'd be incredibly funny to watch). and lets give parker props for her willingness to tase a man.

i think, what it comes down to, is leverage's multi-skilling, and willingness and ability to adapt on the fly. they don't panic - and when they do, it's generally a con in a con. they're a lot less reliant on gadgets to do their work, and where elliot can take sophie's place in a con, ilsa can't take grace's. IM is also let down by the fact that they have two tech guys, neither of whom really have the diversity of skills of two of the leverage team.

i still think IM couldn't do leverage - but i'd love to read a crossover where they end up conflicting/working together.

the leverage team could do mission impossible but ethan hunt ans his crew couldnt do leverage.

[be-gay-do-heists]

hello yall :) the holy month of elul started last night, which is typically a time for contemplation, so since it is impossible for me to stop thinking about leverage, i decided to write an essay. hope anyone interested in reading it enjoys, and that it makes at least a little sense!! spoilers for leverage redemption

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Leverage, Judaism, and “Doing the Work”: An Essay for Elul

When it comes to Elul and the approaching High Holidays, Leverage might seem like an odd topic to meditate on.

The TNT crime drama that ran from 2008-2012, and which released a new season this summer following its renewal, centers on a group of found-family thieves who help the victims of corporations and oligarchs (sometimes based on real-world examples), using wacky heists and cons to bring down the rich and powerful. In one episode, the team’s clients want to reclaim their father’s prized Glimt piece that had been stolen in the Shoah and never returned, but aside from this and the throwaway lines and jokes standard for most mainstream television, there’s not a ton textually Jewish about Leverage. However, despite this, I have found that the show has strong resonance among Jewish fans, and lots of potential for analysis along Jewish themes. This tends to focus on one character in particular: the group’s brilliant, pop culture-savvy, and personable hacker, Alec Hardison, played by the phenomenally talented Aldis Hodge.

I can’t remember when or where I first encountered a reading of Hardison as Jewish, but not only is this a somewhat popular interpretation, it doesn’t feel like that much of a leap. In the show itself, Hardison has a couple of the aforementioned throwaway lines that potentially point to him being Jewish, even if they’re only in service of that moment’s grift. It’s hard to point to what exactly makes reading Hardison as Jewish feel so natural. My first guess is the easy way Hardison fits into the traditional paradigms of Jewish masculinity explored by scholars such as Daniel Boyarin (2). Most of the time, the hacker is not portrayed as athletic or physical; he is usually the foil to the team’s more physically-adept characters like fighter Eliot, or thief Parker. Indeed, Hardison’s strength is mental, expressed not only through his computer wizardry but his passions for science, technology, music, popular media, as well as his studious research into whatever scenario the group might come up against. In spite of his self-identification as a “geek,” Hardison is nevertheless confident, emotionally sensitive, and secure in his masculinity. I would argue he is representative of the traditional Jewish masculine ideal, originating in the rabbinic period and solidified in medieval Europe, of the dedicated and thoughtful scholar (3). Another reason for popular readings of Hardison as Jewish may be the desire for more representation of Jews of color. Although mainstream American Jewish institutions are beginning to recognize the incredible diversity of Jews in the United States (4), and popular figures such as Tiffany Haddish are amplifying the experiences of non-white Jews, it is still difficult to find Jews of color represented in popular media. For those eager to see this kind of representation, then, interpreting Hardison, a black man who places himself tangential to Jewishness, in this way is a tempting avenue.

Regardless, all of the above remains fan interpretation, and there was little in the text of the show that seriously tied Judaism into Hardison’s identity. At least, until we got this beautiful speech from Hardison in the very first episode of the renewed show, directed at the character of Harry Wilson, a former corporate lawyer looking to atone for the injustice he was partner to throughout his career:

“In the Jewish faith, repentance, redemption, is a process. You can’t make restitution and then promise to change. You have to change first. Do the work, Harry. Then and only then can you begin to ask for forgiveness. [...] So this… this isn’t the win. It’s the start, Harry.”

I was floored to hear this speech, and thrilled that it explained the reboot’s title, Leverage: Redemption. Although not mentioned by its Hebrew name, teshuvah forms the whole basis for the new season. Teshuvah is the concept of repentance or atonement for the sins one has committed. Stemming from the root shuv/shuva, it carries the literal sense of “return.” In a spiritual context, this usually means a return to G-d, of finding one’s way back to holiness and by extension good favor in the eyes of the Divine. But equally important is restoring one’s relationships with fellow humans by repairing any hurt one has caused over the past year. This is of special significance in the holy month of Elul, leading into Rosh haShanah, the Yamim Noraim, and Yom Kippur, but one can undertake a journey of redemption at any point in time. That teshuvah is a journey is a vital message for Harry to hear; one job, one reparative act isn’t enough to overturn years of being on the wrong side of justice, to his chagrin. As the season progresses, we get to watch his path of teshuvah unfold, with all its frustrations and consequences. Harry grows into his role as a fixer, not only someone who can find jobs and marks for the team, but fixes what he has broken or harmed.

So why was Hardison the one to make this speech?

I do maintain that it does provide a stronger textual basis for reading Hardison as Jewish by implication (though the brief on-screen explanation for why he knows about teshuvah, that his foster-parent Nana raised a multi-faith household, is important in its own merit, and meshes well with his character traits of empathy and understanding for diverse experiences). However, beyond this, Hardison isn’t exactly an archetypical model for teshuvah. In the original series, he was the youngest character of the main ensemble, a hacking prodigy in the start of his adult career, with few mistakes or slights against others under his belt. In one flashback we see that his possibly first crime was stealing from the Bank of Iceland to pay off his Nana’s medical bills, and that his other early hacking exploits were in the service of fulfilling personal desires, with only those who could afford to pay the bill as targets. Indeed, in the middle of his speech, Hardison points to Eliot, the character with the most violent and gritty past who views his work with the Leverage team as atonement, for a prime example of ongoing teshuvah. So while no one is perfect and everyone has a reason for doing teshuvah, this question of why Hardison is the one to give this series-defining speech inspired me to look at his character choices and behavior, and see how they resonate with a different but interrelated Jewish principle, that of tikkun olam. 

Tikkun olam is literally translated as “repairing the world,” and can take many different forms, such as protecting the rights of vulnerable people in society, or giving tzedakah (5). In modern times, tikkun olam is often the rallying cry for Jewish social activists, particularly among environmentalists for whom literally restoring the health of the natural world is the key goal. Teshuvah and tikkun olam are intertwined (the former is the latter performed at an interpersonal level) and both hold a sense of fixing or repairing, but tikkun olam really revolves around a person feeling called to address an injustice that they may have not had a personal hand in creating. Hardison’s sense of a universal scale of justice which he has the power to help right on a global level and his newfound drive to do humanitarian work, picked up sometime after the end of the original series, make tikkun olam a central value for his character. This is why we get this nice bit of dialogue from Eliot to Hardison in the second episode of the reboot, when the latter’s outside efforts to organize international aid start distracting him from his work with the team: “Is [humanitarian work] a side gig? In our line of work, you’re one of the best. But in that line of work… you’re the only one, man.” The character who most exemplifies teshuvah reminds Hardison of his amazing ability to effect change for the better on a huge stage, to do some effective tikkun olam. It’s this acknowledgement of where Hardison can do the most good that prompts the character’s absence for the remainder of the episodes released thus far, turning his side gig into his main gig.

With this in mind, it will be interesting to see where Hardison’s arc for this season goes. Separated from the rest of the team, the hacker still has remarkable power to change the world, because it is, after all, the “age of the geek.” However, he is still one person. For all that both teshuvah and tikkun olam are individual responsibilities and require individual decision-making and effort, the latter especially relies on collective work to actually make things happen. Hardison leaving is better than trying to do humanitarian work and Leverage at the same time, but there’s only so long he can be the “only one” in the field before burning out. I’m reminded of one of the most famous (for good reason) maxims in Judaism:

It is not your duty to finish the work, but neither are you free to neglect it. (6)

Elul is traditionally a time for introspection and heeding the calls to repentance. After a year where it’s never been easier to feel powerless and drained by everything going on around us, I think it’s worth taking the time to examine what kind of work we are capable of in our own lives. Maybe it’s fixing the very recent and tangible hurts we’ve left behind, like Harry. Maybe it’s the little changes for the better that we make every day, motivated by our sense of responsibility, like Eliot. And maybe it’s the grueling challenge of major social change, like Hardison. And if any of this work gets too much, who can we fall back on for support and healing? Determining what needs repair, working on our own scale and where our efforts are most helpful, and thereby contributing to justice in realistic ways means that we can start the new year fresh, having contemplated in holiday fashion how we can be better agents in the world.

Shana tovah u’metukah and ketivah tovah to all (7), and may the work we do in the coming year be for good!

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(1) Disclaimer: everybody’s fandom experiences are different, and this is just what I’ve picked up on in my short time watching and enjoying this show with others.

(2) See, for example, the introduction and first chapter of Boyarin’s book Unheroic Conduct: The Rise of Heterosexuality and the Invention of the Jewish Man (I especially recommend at least this portion if you are interested in queer theory and Judaic studies). There he explores the development of Jewish masculinity in direct opposition to Christian masculine standards.

(3) I might even go so far as to place Hardison well within the Jewish masculine ideal of Edelkayt, gentle and studious nobility (although I would hesitate to call him timid, another trait associated with Edelkayt). Boyarin explains that this scholarly, non-athletic model of man did not carry negative associations in the historical Jewish mindset, but was rather the height of attractiveness (Boyarin, 2, 51).

(4) Jews of color make up 20% of American Jews, according to statistics from Be’chol Lashon, and this number is projected to increase as American demographics continue to change: https://globaljews.org/about/mission/. 

(5) Tzedakah is commonly known as righteous charity. According to traditional authority Maimonides, it should be given anonymously and without embarrassment to the person in need, generous, and designed to help the recipient become self-sufficient.

(6) Rabbi Tarfon, Pirkei Avot, 2:16

(7) “A good and sweet year” and “a good inscription [in the Book of Life]”

[eyrieofsynapses]

the dynamic between Eliot and Hardison in the original show was *chef’s kiss* absolute perfection, but I’m adoring them in the first two Redemption episodes. they’ve changed so much and they know each other so well and they still argue like an old married couple and mess with each other whenever they get a chance.

where else are you going to get a dynamic like this one? where else are you going to get something where Eliot can urge Hardison to continue his interest in humanitarian work out of recognition that it will help him continue become a better person, to remind him that “it’s okay to grow up, realize you’re not the person you used to be”--

--and have Hardison summarize Eliot’s daily struggle in a line so incredibly and heartbreakingly profound as “for the last twelve years I’ve seen him risk his life to save hundreds of innocent people who will never know his name, all that, and every single morning he still gets up, and you know what he says? I still got more to do”--

--and then turn around and Eliot’s putting a hand over Hardison’s glass of alcohol and Hardison’s slapping at it and pouting when Eliot moves the bottle away. Hardison’s making fun of Eliot for the way he’s fighting and taking obvious delight in him having to use the vents to get to Parker. the two of them are arguing like a pair of kids over who gets to use the cool drill and who has to set it up. 

I mean, seriously. how can you not love them?