#because she probably is sitting on Eliot's other side let's be honest

[runcnlove]

[ O P E N for Eliot; set in the verse where baby Teddy got lost in the woods and was sent by a questing creature to the alternate timeline which is the show's main timeline and ends up on Earth around S4... also, Quentin lives ]

Julia has brought Teddy over as soon as Q texted her that it was over; that Eliot was back and the Monster was gone. She was one of the two people Q trusted the most and with Margo and her axes being crucial to the mission, Julia's mission was to watch over Teddy until it would be safe for him to reunite with, hopefully, both his fathers.

( Honestly? The relief that message brought her had as much to do with her happiness at the news that the latest crisis that took so much out of all of them and most of all Q was finally dealt with without costing any of her loved ones' lives as it did with the fact that Teddy's bad mood since Q left, the anxiety he was trying so hard to drown out by throwing himself into drawing surprisingly detailed for a boy of his age pictures of what she assumed was their life at the Mosaic – though there have been a picture or two clearly meant to be an illustration for a scene from 'Fillory and Further' – much the same way Q had been burying his nose in a book, most often the 'Fillory' series, when he had was overwhelmed – if she wasn't sure before, this proved without a single doubt that Teddy was Q's son through and through – broke her heart )

Needless to say, the boy threw himself into his father's arms the moment he saw him and there were tears on both sides and Teddy has been glued to his Dada's side ever since, which, coupled with the fact that Q has been glued to Eliot's bedside and refused to leave until he woke up, meant that when Eliot finally did blink his eyes open, it was to the sight of Q dozing in the chair pulled close to his infirmary bed, one arm wrapped around the boy fast asleep in his lap and the other hand holding Eliot's own.

[cakeandpi]

Parker!! spoilers abound

hm, so Harry (aka Lawyer) has been fired/let go and no one gave him the memo on it. Is his old job/boss going to be this episodes mark?

oof, Harry is bad at being subtle with his ‘okay look in [place]’ comm directions

ah okay so isn’t a legal firm that’s about representing their clients to the best of their ability. it’s a firm whose about smoothing bad things over for rich clients so that there’s little to no consequences.

“I remember when you wanted to change the world.”/“World did change. We just went along for the ride.” So the world changed the boss, the boss gave up on changing the world because he saw a way to profit from it and didn’t care that he hurt others along the way.

The way that car drove up onto the curve, I thought that was Sophie in a big hurry at first. (I would have thought Parker but there wasn’t enough time for her to crack the safe, get to the relevant files, get out, and then drive there.) But no, it’s Maxwell’s thugs because the man holds a grudge apparently. So I’m going to guess he’s going to be the season big bad? Or is he just a 2-episode bad guy and we’ll find out who the real big bad is later?

Hardison: listing various problems on various international efforts he’s helping with Eliot: let’s make this a restaurant metaphor Hardison: *very much regretting ever buying Eliot that brewpub*

Nuts and bolts about bad guy details

Also that bit about Hardison being distracted by problems is definitely a distraction, there’s no way he’d pause on making sure their safehouse was secure

Eliot is not so much pissed as insulted that the world is at the point of advertising the corruption rather than him needing to beat it out of someone.

drone!!

*snort* eliot's usually the grouchy one, and he’s carrying a trashcan right now. there’s no way hardison doesn’t make some oscar the grouch joke once he sees that.

“It’s like you never stopped.”/“Yeah. Quite the act.” Sophie slows down at Hardison’s comment, then sighs and sits. She’s finding this tiring now. Is it because she’s out of practice? Or because after so many years of retirement, her hearts not in it anymore? And Hardison notices. He doesn’t say anything concrete immediately, because Sophie hasn’t really elaborated on what’s going on with her. When she does - it’s her grief, and how its affecting her grift now - there’s this concern in Hardison’s face. There’s absolutely going to be a meeting between the OT3 about how to straddle not straining Sophie too much and not babying her should she stay on for another job after this.

“But I can’t work forever, can I?” There’s a defeated tone to this, and it’s true - Sophie’s just human, one day she too will pass on. Her grief for Nate (and how being back with the team keeps reopening that wound) is coloring her view on this for sure. (Did Nate work himself to death?) It’s also, very distantly, a remark on the OT3 - they too can’t work forever. They were Sophie’s and Nate’s proteges. And it’s not that the OT3 doesn’t have anything in place if they go down - they’ve got small teams running all over the world. But they don’t have their own personal proteges. Harry’s a decent start, but they’ll need to recruit and open up their circle to at least one, maybe two more before they’re ready to retire. Before they, too, burn too hot for too long.

“You hear that? That’s a very distinctive sound.” YES

Another Basil & Brick truck! This one has.... empanadas, ropa vieja, sancocho, and I think the last one is yuca frita. Mm, yuca fries.

BREANNA!!!

Parker! Taught Breanna to tail people! (Hardison in particular?) When she was 11! Wait does that mean Parker’s met Nana?! Also Parker is so smug and satisfied that Breanna paid attention to her lessons.

“I teach every kid I meet how to do crime.” <3 be gay do crime

This is a big ‘I’m telling mom!’ argument and I love it, especially the “I think she’s napping” LMAO

“How you saved Eliot’s life all those times” Oh man Hardison is sleeping on the metaphorical couch tonight. But also I need to come back to this later because honestly and really? Hardison has - as part of a group team effort - saved Eliot’s life from himself. By giving him a way to work through his anger issues, by caring for him, by showing Eliot he’s needed and that he’s more than just a hitter. The team saved Eliot’s life. (And there’s probably a bunch of erasing digital trails/etc where Hardison did more directly save Eliot’s life but that's besides the point.)

“But hacking’s kind of old school anyway.” And as she goes on, Eliot goes from aggrieved to ‘oh, a new best friend’ because now he has someone to help him annoy Hardison.

Parker pulls Hardison into a side room (by his ear, but he’s not protesting in pain so that’s got to be just for show). And then pushes him up against the wall and Hardison is like ‘okay whatever lecture is coming can it not be like this?’ If it weren’t for the glass walls that’d be some makeout stuff right here.

LOL at Parker’s standard for a ‘normal’ person being ‘uses Uber, pays taxes, and has a birth certificate’.

“Wait is this like that time in Paris?” I... don’t remember an episode set in Paris with a robot and explosions so this must be during the time skip. And - “... but you didn’t want to hurt Eliot’s feelings so you secretly wanted us to agree.” I’m going to scream if there’s no confirmed ot3 by the end of the season. And cry. And read a whole bunch of fic.

Look at these two being honest with each and communicating and respecting each others opinions, they’ve grown so much from pretzel metaphors.

“You’re not mad. You did the Picard tug.”/“I am mad.“/“Did the tug. You know I like that.” Parker might be mad (at Hardison? Breanna? Both?) but not so much that she’s completely shutting out Hardison, giving him a nonverbal signal that she’s not pissed, just needs some time to be upset before everything’s okay.

“One. Job.” Parker says. And we the viewers know it’ll be more than one. But really what that means by now is that this is an audition. Parker may have taught Breanna some things, but now Breanna has to show that they do better with her rather than without, that she’s an asset and not a liability or dead weight.

I laughed so hard that because this shit’s illegal, there’s no cutting corners on the paperwork.

“And you didn’t get tortured.”/“Not this time.” I can’t tell if Eliot wants Harry to get a little bit tortured or if he’s just reminding Harry that this time around people were in a good mood and showing off.

Breanna stops herself before suggesting something, and Hardison, for all that he isn’t delighted at her presence and protested her being here, encourages her to speak up. If she’s going to be part of the team, even for one job, she’s part of the team and that means speaking up and throwing ideas out there for others to bounce around, even if it winds up being a football that can’t be dribbled.

OT3 TEAM JUST GOT DUBBED ‘DRILL TEAM’. (why is that also somehow a dirty joke i’m dying here)

Oh one of the baddies is a Com4r4t fan... oh wait no this is the beginning of a plan backfiring.

Aww Breanna is so proud of what she’s done! It’s very much like season 1 Hardison. So Sophie and Hardison go to do their own thing, only that means the baddies are here to talk to Breanna and she doesn’t have backup.

THE 'LET ME GET MY BOSS’ THE SPIN AROUND AND THE ‘WHY ARE YOU BOTHERING MY STAFF’ I LOVE BREANNA.

“I’m your neighbor who runs a business built on discretion.” This is going to go very badly depending on how Breanna plays this. At least she gets the earbud in to call for help!

Another Brick&Basil truck! Etoufee and jambalaya, dammit eliot stop choosing delicious food to advertise. 

“I monkey-shamed the DJ” I. Love. Her. Also Sophie’s already read Breanna as having the skills to just need general guidelines for an impromptu grift rather than needing to be fed specific lines.

“Okay here’s the thing.” And there’s a pause, we’re thinking he’s about to come down real hard on Breanna, and then we get “I love Com4r4t.” he is a fanboy I guessed it right!! And then he does go through with the threat, but not as a ‘cancel it or die’ sort of threat, but a ‘if i’m disappointed you die’ way.

Breanna nails the impromptu grift though she’s understandably a bit shaken by the threat at the end. (What newcomer wouldn’t be?) But the threat is what pushes Parker into deciding Breanna should go home ASAP. This is Hardison’s family, from before the team, and Parker isn’t about to risk messing that up. If she pushes for Breanna to stay when Hardison doesn’t want Breanna to, and something goes wrong? Parker would never, ever forgive herself.

But as Sophie has pointed out, they’ve all been out of their depth at one point or another. That doesn’t mean that someone should be sent packing.

Lmao Eliot being possessive of the drill.

“Then you ain’t got no more problems ever again.” There’s a certain sense of morbid humor with the team, one that’s both necessary but also a reality. They deal with this level of danger on a semi-regular basis. Harry just hasn’t caught up to that fact yet.

I have a feeling this particular baddie is going to end up dead for managing to drive a 40% cut.

“I’m just saying dude.” I love that Eliot and Hardison don’t have to rehash their entire arguments anymore unless they’re really enjoying themselves, that they can just be all ‘you know I’ve said my piece’.

“Don’t get distracted by the side gig.”/“Is it a side gig?” For all that the team has been their main focus for so long, for all that they all have side projects and gigs, this has been eating up more and more of Hardison’s time. What I thought was him pretending to be distracted earlier may have been a real distraction. And Eliot’s noticed, and he’s noticed that Hardison hasn’t noticed, that Hardison needs to make a choice here.

“In our line of work, you’re one of the best. But in that line of work you’re the only one, man.” Eliot has a soft smile at the end of that, and it's a bit painful, even as I saw it coming, to hear Eliot suggest that Hardison begin to step away from the team’s day to day.

“It’s okay to grow up, to realize you’re not the person you used to be.” None of them are the person they used to be. Not Sophie, not Parker, not Hardison, and certainly not Eliot. They can see that in each other if not in themselves. (Eliot, being the most grounded of all of them, already knew he’d changed eight years ago.)

“You never grew up.”/“Yeah. I achieved perfection pretty early, huh?” Even as Eliot’s the most grounded, even though he’s the one saying that there’s no one else that could fill Hardison’s role in that other work, the idea that Hardison might actually choose to step away from the team is too raw to handle without turning to humor.

Harry’s a bit jumpy, but he’s learning to play it off. I like that he’s a very different character from Nate, that it’s not his anger or ego driving him so much as a desire to make restitution.

And a “Dammit Hardison”

Ooh, Eliot’s in the vents too, just in time to help Parker. (She doubtless has her beloved taser but that would take time away from getting into the vault.)

“I smell lasers” Ahahahahaha

“You’re going to compare me to Eliot right now?” (’over the comms, where others who aren’t Eliot can hear?’ Hardison did not say out loud.)

ouch, okay, Hardison hurting his back like that might be what actually makes him choose the other gig over the team, or at what makes him take a little vacation so he can heal from that. (back injuries are nothing to play around with!)

how did Maxwell get past Eliot? but it’s all good, Eliot’s right behind to disarm him. And Parker’s been doing her hitting lessons, she didn’t even need a taser or to stab anyone!

Oh Harry, the bomb will be used, it’s just not time yet.

New Orleans gumbo is its own food group.

Okay so Hardison’s done a lot of work getting this place in order... WAIT IS THAT A PUNCHING BAG? That’s a punching bag! It might not be the love-letter the brewpub was but it’s definitely a thing added specifically for Eliot.

Oh no, Eliot might realize what Hardison’s doing with this, but Parker hasn’t caught up yet that Hardison’s going to be taking a break from the team.

Parker’s blindsided by this, and she’s upset, but she’s not mad because why didn’t she see this coming she should have seen it, so she leaves to deal with her emotions alone. Hardison follows, naturally, she knew he would, but she can’t face him because then he’ll see her crying, and Parker doesn’t do emotions easily. She’s torn between wanting him to help people and wanting to be with him (and she can’t go with him, she needs to be helping people too).

And Parker doesn’t want Breanna there without Hardison. Again because it’d put Hardison’s family in danger and that’s a step too far for Parker if Hardison doesn’t okay it. And also because with Hardison leaving, Breanna’s just going to be reminders of what Parker’s missing. And Breanna doesn’t have Hardison’s skillset, can’t fill his shoes - not that she should but she can’t, and Parker, I think, is already mentally preparing herself to go it alone again. Because if this job needs Hardison so bad, then surely Eliot’s got some project that needs his specific attention, and it was just one job for Breanna, and Sophie’s been adamant that this is one last job for her, and Harry’s still new and will probably decide to do his own thing given time to think... I think that’s where her brain is at, at least for the next thirty seconds, before she catches up with herself and realizes that more like the time she busted her leg than the team dissolving around her. (This kind of went weird places but that’s stream of thought for me)

And as they come back in Parker’s already cheering up some, because that wave of despair has already blown over. Yeah, she’s not a parent, but she’s good at teaching when she tries.

“It could be a reunion tour.”/“No. I’m retired.” It’s very different from Nate’s old protestations. He was not a thief. Whereas with Sophie it’s not ready. And while they all point out that she’s been happier while doing cons, that they could use the help, it’s not forceful or overpowering. It’s still Sophie’s decision. They’re not going to make her house their new base and taunt her with it; they’re not the sort of people who’d do that anymore, and anyway that’d be cruel instead of a fun sort of goading.

And because they give Sophie space to make a decision, while she doesn’t want to make a long-term commitment, she’s willing to take on ‘just a few more’.

[uncle-eliot]

100(I know I said 20 uhhh) incredible things about Quentin Coldwater

(I meant to add gifs but I WILL NOT be limited to 10 so)

He looks gorgeous in a man bun.

He has a nerdy "hip thrusty" dance he made up with his best friend.

He sits like the bisexual icon he is which means he doesn't

He loves magic a lot and believes that it changes things for the better

He is extremely honest about the things he loves! For example: magic, people and books:)

When his best friend lost her goddess powers he called her a high level X-Men(!!)

He looks adorable holding a teddy bear

His true drunk response to having his wine taken away was "those grapes died for nothing now" (fhfxh)

He wishes magic could run on love (or cocaine) instead of pain

When his hair is down it's beautiful and floppy and iconic

His first power move on the show was probably singing and dancing to taylor swift's 'shake it off' in order to get a psychic's attention

He's bi and it's the "only thing he isn't anxious about"

It's a deleted scene, but while working on the first years test with penny and that other guy Q got frustrated and said "Jesus why are we using candles there are literal lights"

Q is so soft and pure that days after getting his heart broken by one of his best friends he still invited him to go on a magical boat quest together

He is "Jesus, I'm not a virgin"!!

He is nicknamed "the fool" around the kingdom and owning it

His reaction to penny yelling at him was to hide behind a tree

His mom has a girlfriend

He solved multiple problems just by remembering random parts from his favourite childhood book

While singing taylor swift, he did a HAIR FLIP and BLOCKED penny's way to the door

While he was high he grabbed penny's mouth while claiming that it's HIS MOUTH

His answer to "you haven't even touched your penis" was "I had a ton yesterday"

Within the first minutes of the pilot, he was seen sitting on the floor at a party hiding behind a plastic cup hjfhc

He is gorgeous with longer hair- but also!! With his shorter hair in season 4

He got poppy a bag of sand so she could feel like she was on a beach!!

He says "um so" like A LOT

In order to get into brakebills, he built a giant house of cards and then fainted

He wore a CARDIGAN in 4x10

He legitimately asked if magicians could die from eating oreos

Q made himself a quesadilla, then held it without a plate and burnt himself, only to drop it when jennifer jumpscared him

Q attacked penny and lost the fight lol.

When he was at a party and found out he could do magic again, he made A FLYING SHIP made out of weed smoke

According to the library's prediction system, his most likely death is getting distracted by talking about dogs

He was hella hot as the beast

His reaction to being called 'not fun' was to lie on the stairs with julia and drink champagne

He always wanted to be a dad, and he was, and then wanted to do it again

His mom has a strange hold over him, because once when he was a kid he broke an ashtray and now she still thinks he breaks everything

And he believes her

Until!!! He found out that his biggest talent is to UNBREAK THINGS

When Q's nervous, he runs his hands through his hair.

When they were kids and Q had a one sided crush on julia, he never said anything because he values their friendship

His reaction to being rejected by someone he loves was WIPING A TEAR whadkdmnxndns

Somehow his best idea to unite all his friends was to sing a freaking bowie song together

He was SO EXCITED about the possibility of Eliot choosing him to become a king too

He is such a nerdy bitch when Margo told him she loved the fillory books his reaction was to raise his eyebrows and say "..you did?"

When confronted by pretty boys, his reactions are reduced to: "uh huh."

"I didn't know you liked any of the quentins"

In the beginning of season 3, he was SO HAPPY about having a freaking quest

His iconic answer to "you're dying" is "aren't we all"

He never expressed ANY SHAME about his interest in men or his experiences with men

All vests look the same to him!

His first reaction to being told to blow a horse is to look at the horse's face. (What a gentleman!)

When he's wearing a man bun he leaves strands of hair to frame his face (they're TOTALLY long enough to fit in the bun sorry)

He high-fived Julia on screen at least twice

When he had to make up a mind prison for himself, he decided that both of his current crushes should be there and constantly hit on on him

The thing that made him lose trust in Alice is nothing but the fact that she couldn't trust the fact that he loved her

He told Julia that a hot boy is "sweatin' her"!!

He likes to read books under a tree in the middle of campus like a freaking fanfic girl

He has a hard time taking off sweaters jxbx

Hearing Eliot say that him and Margo should come to Julia's birthday party so he could find his way back to brakebills after made Q smile SO BIG

A chandelier nearly fell on his head and killed him, and his reaction was "Jesus shit"

Alternatively, his reaction to being abused by a depression monster was "Jesus fuck"

He's an easy target because he's honest about what he loves!!

He believes in magic, and loves it pure and simple

After only knowing Eliot and Margo for a couple of weeks, Q hugged Margo and promised that they were going to do whatever they can to help Eliot because he's been sad lately

While taking a tour in Christopher plover's house, he stopped to take a selfie!!

Q can't have a sex dream without his brain reminding him that he's not passing the bechdel test

Q jumped over a couch to get to Margo quickly

He used to describe himself as a nothingmancer

He looks very cute lying on the floor covered in ropes

His version of seducing is mouthing the word "fuck"

He doesn't have brain cells to spare!!

His reaction to Alice complaining about the cold is to zip up his own jacket

His reaction to past!alice aggressively trying to have sex with him was "oh god okay"

Followed by "i forgot condoms" (Which were on the nightstand right next to him)

Followed by running out of the room

After getting burnt by a hot dagger, he sucked on his thumb sadly looking at penny making the same mistake

He met three dragons and he's done with them

"You let go of Falkor'"

I still can't remember why he danced in a circle after Alice died while Eliot and Margo are watching but he sure did

That smile before dropping the towel when he was with emily sjdbb

When he realized that the arrow was from fillory and confidently said "we can do this"

"Royalty bitches" (!!)

Q tried to copy the answers from penny while taking the test to get into brakebills

His answer to "feel anything?" straight up was "super stressed out"

The idea of fillory saved his life

"Honestly, fuck fillory" jxbx

He voted to test the magical knife on plover!!

His smile to learning Margo's in love and still a bitch!!

That shot of him struggling with his sweater behind Julia looking gorgeous

"Phosphoromancy bitches!"

He loves card tricks so much jgcv

"Hey, I, mm.." (you know)

"Why the fuck not?"

Him smiling at Margo and Eliot barbecuing from afar, because he knows he found his people and his place.

He just LOVES wine

Not really a scene but that one pic of him on the mosaic passionately talking about something despite Eliot looking at him with confusion

"Not everything has to look like something, ELIOT."

Q accidentally killed the physical kids' immortal puppy by trying to cure him. "Oh no." "You killed cancer puppy."

when he gets back from brakebills South and sees Eliot made drinks so he says THANK GOD and takes them smndn

Bonus: he is definitely a huffelpuff

[thehollowprince]

Magicians Anonymous

Okay, first off, can I just say that I loved that title of this episode alone, before we even go any further? Because I did. I loved it. Don't know why, but I did.

Anyway, let's just break this down by character.

We'll start with Fen and Josh, for the simple fact that they weren't in this episode at all, which I thought was odd. Given how things ended between them and Margo at the end of the last episode, and the fact that they're in an occupied Fillory with the man who overthrew them three hundred years ago, that can't be the safest place for them.

Margo - she didn't really have a part to play in this episode, except to be snarky (a staple) and then the big reveal cliffhanger. Though I will say that seeing Margo duel weild axes against the takers was pretty awesome.

Side note: the other centurion (Sivart) she was paired with was hot. Plus I loved the joke about Foxes and how they lie. A+ commentary on our broken political system and the media that supports it

The Dark King - I'm using him as a focal point instead of Eliot, because the latter didn't really do anything this episode, except stand around and stair into a bowl to watch the Dark King propaganda machine. But the Dark King - Sebastian - he had a part to play this episode. And I'm not focusing on him just because he was a silver fox (not entirely, anyway), but because it's interesting to see a magician perform magic that our heroes don't or can't. I mean, let's be honest, they maybe relative children in the grand scheme of things, especially compared to the more experienced magicians we've met, but they've also achieved some big stuff. I'm insanely interested to see the how and why of his ability to take on the takers.

Also, I'm really intrigued by this whole thing with the fairies. Last we saw them, they were to be included on the advisory council to the monarch of Fillory, but now they're being hunted like animals? What happened in the last three hundred years? I mean, I think @highkingfen and I cracked the whole Fairy-Taker thing last week, but I want confirmation.

Alice - I'm disappointed they put her back in those shirts, especially after we finally got to see her in normal clothes for two episodes in a row, but I will say I was happy to see her and Julia hug. For too long Alice was sort of the odd man out in their group and I'll happy to see them finally pulling her onto the "inner circle". Her little sojourn to the Library was interesting, culminating in a totally random attack from the Visigoths, who I guess are still a thing, led by a guy with a thing for her (that I think is going to come back at some point in the future... maybe like the candy cottage witch). It was nice to see Zelda again, but I would like to know what she was up to. Didn't Phyllis say she had a nervous breakdown?

It was pretty badass of Zelda to burn the books to prevent the Visigoths from claiming them, especially when I thought Alice would have just used her Phosphoromancy to hide everything. I also really like the implications of the Library not being able to spy on people or know their entire life story. It actually lends the idea of free will some credence.

Also, while we're talking Librarians, where's my girl, Shiela? Huh?

Julia - I love you, but you're a dumbass. Have we learned absolutely nothing from dealing with gods? At all? Why would she think summoning one, especially by herself, would be a good idea? I mean, Ember's balls, Julia! Come on! You're supposed to be the smart one.

And while I did appreciate the irony of Julia having to make a life-or-death choice that would irrevocably change Penny for the rest of his life without his consent, I figured we would have moved past that. She was pissed when Penny made that decision for her, but sure... the narrative demands it because we can't figure out how to stop the Apocalypse by the fourth episode.

However, I will say that this should lead to an interesting arc for Penny. He can't be everyone's magical uber anymore, and he doesn't have his psychic abilities, so hopefully we'll get to see what kind of magician he is under it all. Though I have this sickening feeling in my gut that says that he's going to travel again, because of that line about it being "like flying a seven forty-seven blind". So help me, of they kill off Penny again, I'mma be pissed.

PS: I really wasn't feelin' that whole Plum reveal. Not only her waiting until after the eleventh hour when Penny's life hung in the balance, but because it felt like they waited until the last possible second for just the shock value. Here's hoping they do something big with her that makes waiting so long worth it.

And finally, Kady and Fogg - probably my favorite part of the episode, while simultaneously making me irrationally angry. I loved the Magicians Anonymous meeting, which I guess isn't for magicians who quit magic, but magicians who quit substance abuse. Good for them for getting help, though Fogg disguising himself as a low-rent Marina was a little much.

But, things turned really interesting when they took the acid and went on their little trip to find the Dude Emperor so they could discover what happened to the depository. Whoever wrote that sequence has clearly dropped acid before.

All that being said, I'm upset that they took a man who willingly made the choice to be sober and stuck him in a universe where he'll be forever high. That doesn't sit well with me. Hopefully that's not the last time we see Fogg.

Overall, I'd give this episode a six out of ten. It was okay, but not anything fantastic. There was a lot going on, but nothing really happened, if you know what I mean? It felt more like a filler episode than anything else, and given that we're operating on a season that need to wrap up their main plot in eight episodes now, I don't think we have time for fillers. At the end of it all, I was left with more questions than answers, when we still have other questions that need answers.

[all-things-skam]

eliott protecting lucas from his dad ( maybe you can also add him a bit of him confronting lucas’ dad over the fact that he financially and emotionally abandoned lucas?)

Anon: Bonjour! Could you write something about Lucas’s dad (he can be a right arsewipe or just a bit dodgy) and other people reacting to it? Thanks \••/

Anon: Overprotective Elliot please

-

Title: Father, dear father

Ship: Skam France | Lucas Lallemant and Eliot Demaury (Elu)

Lucas’s dad wasn’t the father of the year. He was shallow, self-centered and always late.

The young couple had been waiting for him at the restaurant for over an hour and Eliott was starting to get impatient. They had ran across the city to get to this damn dinner in time yet, Lucas’s dad had yet to show up after sixty minutes. Sixty-two!

After twenty minutes of waiting they grew tired and Eliott suggesting ordering some drinks. But as the time passed, he grew more impatient. Lucas knew how exhausted Eliott was having come from a long shift at work, so he agreed to order some entrees and they could order their meal once he arrived. But now, they were long finished their entrees and it was clear that Eliott was not having it.

“If he’s not there in five minute, we’re leaving. I’m not gonna wait here all evening for someone who can’t bother warning that they’re going to be late. That is, if he’s going to show up.”

“He’s going to show up. He told me he would.”

Eliott raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Like last week when he said he’d transfer you your part for the rent?” Lucas narrowed his eyes at his boyfriend. “Sorry.”

Eliott was right though.

Lucas owed two months of rent to Mika and his dad still hadn’t transferred him the money after promising him he’d do it. Lucky for Lucas that Eliott had some spare money he could let him borrow. Lucas felt bad for taking so much money from Eliott. He had worked hard to earn this and should be using it for college next year, not pay Lucas’s late rents.

Checking the time on his phone, Eliott stood, about to pull on his jacket when Lucas stopped him.

“Eli, please. Sit down,” Lucas insisted.

Tonight was the first time Eliott would meet his dad and Lucas had been stressing over this dinner for days, hoping everything would go smoothly but, his father’s tardiness was getting on Eliott’s bad side which was not good.

Eliott was already not a fan of how the man left Lucas alone to deal with his mentally ill mother. He was fifteen for fuck’s sake. At fifteen, you should be making new experiences and skateboarding with your friends. He shouldn’t have been the one dealing his schizophrenic mother, it was his dad’s duty - even if they were getting a divorce.

It was almost 8pm when a familiar face took a seat in front of Lucas, acting as if nothing happened. He snapped his fingers at the waitress passing by, calling for a rhum on ice and gave his son a cold hello before glancing at the unfamiliar face.

“I’m Stéphane, you must be Elio.”

“It’s Eliott.”

“Did you change your shifts at work? You used to have weekends off,” Lucas asked, trying to justify his dad’s tardiness.

The man pulled his eyebrows. “I wasn’t at work. Why would I be at work on a Saturday?”

“What held you back, then?” Eliott asked, saying what Lucas didn’t dare asking.

A part of him understood why he didn’t ask. From what Eliott knew, Stéphane had left Lucas and his mom and moved across the city in a condo. Lucas was probably afraid of discovering that would break his heart like his dad having a new girlfriend. The divorce had been finalized two months ago, it was a bit fast to be moving on and it was unfair to Lucas’s mom who had no say in this divorce yet was still under Stéphane’s responsibility.

“I’m sorry?”

“We agreed to meet here at 6:30, and it’s 8pm.”

“Did we?”

“Lucas sent you texts and called you two times, did you not read them?”

Lucas put his hand on Eliott’s thigh, squeezing, silently asking him to calm down. He didn’t want his boyfriend to get into an argument with his dad on their first meeting.

“Well, at least I’m here,” he laughed, but Eliott was not having it. It was anything but funny.

The waitress came with Stéphane’s drink and brought a menu table for him.

Eliott was now protectively holding Lucas’s hand. He was hoping that holding the younger boy’s hand would prevent him from lashing out at his dad, that Lucas’s touch would calm him down. Eliott was never a particularly violent person and he rarely got angry. But, when it came to Lucas, it was a different story.

He gave the man a stern look and just shook his head. “It was you who wanted to meet up, maybe consider being on time next time,” Eliott muttered bitterly in a quiet voice.

Stéphane took a sip of his drink and, just as he put it down, his phone went off. He checked the screen and smiled. “Excuse me. I have to take this, it’s my fiancé.”

As soon as Lucas heard the word ‘fiancé’, he felt like he’d been stabbed. In every argument with his mom he would say that he would never make the same mistake again and that he would never get married. Just another one of his lies and this was not the time for Lucas to find out. He had left his mom and him to their own devices just to go and play happy family with some other women. What was worst was the smile that rose on his face as he talked to her on the phone.

Everything was hurting in that moment. Lucas felt tears filling up his eyes, he knew he was about to cry but he didn’t want to cause a scene at the restaurant so he quickly stood up and ran to the bathroom.

“Lucas?” Stéphane said, watching his son leave the table, completely clueless. He told his fiancé that he would call her back in a minute and hung up. “What’s up with him? Is he feeling sick or something?” he asked Eliott. Does he not know what he did wrong?

Eliott wanted to follow him, knowing he might need comfort, but he had something else to do beforehand.

“I was holding myself back for Lucas but now that he left, all thanks to you, I might as well be honest with you. Do you know how much this dinner meant to him? Beside his mom, you’re all he has. He keeps giving you chances, thinking you’ll do good yet, you fail him every single time. Do you know the amount of stress Lucas has to handle every single day because of you? You’re either not sending the rent on time or texting him something frustrating or not even listening to him when he needs someone. You’re his father, you should be there for him! But no, you abandoned him. Lucky for you I’m here to make sure he has a roof over his head and food in his stomach.”

Eliott was aware of the gravity of his accusation but, it was all true. Stéphane had abandoned Lucas both emotionally and financially and Eliott wasn’t okay with that. Children should be loved and supported, not tossed aside when they don’t grow up the way you wanted them to.

“He lost his entire family because of you and has to manage everything on his own while you’re out here, living some sort of a fantasy life, as if Lucas and his mom don’t matter anymore. I get that taking care of a mentally ill can be exhausting but don’t abandon them like some defectful toy. Do you enjoy hurting people? Is that why you abandoned them? So you could start a new, ‘perfect’ family where no one is faltive in any ways?”

He took a deep breath trying to tone down his anger. This man infuriated him.

“He barely get any sleep because he’s so stressed out about everything. He worries sick about his mom, worried if one day he’ll get a call that she has done something terrible to herself. But, you wouldn’t want to hear all of that would you? You’re too busy sticking your head in the sand. When Lucas talked me into meeting you, I was willing to give you a chance. I thought, maybe he’ll prove me wrong, maybe he’s a nice man.” Eliott shook his head, laughing at himself. “Pardon me for saying this but, you fucked up big time tonight. Showing up late was one thing but answering your fiancé during this dinner was beyond disrespectful and extremely hurtful for Lucas. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll got pick up the pieces of the mess you made.” He stood and too Lucas’s jacket from the back of the chair. “Don’t wait for us. We’re not coming back.”

He made his way to the bathroom and pulled a crying Lucas into his arms the second he saw him, not caring if he’d get his nice shirt wet. It was just clothes. Lucas looked like he wanted to say something but the only thing he could do was bury his face in Eliott’s chest for a minute.

“He lied… H-how could he?” His bottom lip trembled as he looked up at Eliott, blue eyes red from crying, tears on his face. “H-how could he do that to us? How could he replace us so fast?”

Eliott wanted to tell Lucas that his dad was an asshole and that he didn’t deserve Lucas’s love but realized a public bathroom wasn’t the place to have this conversation.

Instead, he gently rubbed Lucas’s back, knowing that it calmed Lucas down. “Let me take you home, get you cuddled up in my bed. We can even order in from your favorite restaurant to make up for this shitty dinner. I told your dad we were leaving, you don’t have to go back.”

Lucas rubbed his eyes, trying to wipe away the tears. “I can’t just leave and give up on this. I have to talk him eventually…don’t I?”

“You don’t have to. Not tonight.”

Lucas sniffled and nodded. ‘‘Okay. Let’s go home.’‘

Eliott kissed his cheek and helped Lucas with his jacket, taking his hand as they exited the restaurant without looking back.

[imagineaworlds]

03//Thinning the Herd

summary: Olivia Grace is a motherfucking Magician. Yeah, she’s British. Yeah, she’s got a LOT of secrets– but doesn’t everyone? And she’s totally fucked up.

pairing: margo hanson x female!oc

word count: 1,575

warnings (for entire series): cursing. drug and alcohol use. drug and alcohol abuse. sex.

(1) - (2) - (3) - (4)

What is Brakebills to me? Grace wondered when asked the question. She was sitting in Dean Fogg’s office, across from him while he ate his breakfast. Grace had already had hers. It was two joints, Walkers chips, known as Lays in America, and half a bottle of whiskey. But all of that is beside the point. She wasn’t thinking about her breakfast, Grace was thinking about Brakebills and Dean Fogg’s question.

“A new start I suppose,” Grace mumbled.

Henry Fogg nodded, “Sure.” He ate a strawberry and took a sip of orange juice. “But you’ve been on campus for a few days, yes? I assume you’ve made friends, found yourself a place here among the students. How has Brakebills affected you?”

“Too early to respond,” Grace told him, “Sir.”

Grace didn’t know now. To her, Brakebills was still a blur. She assumed that the dean’s eagerness for an answer meant that most students already had answers to his questions, as if they had studied for the occasion. How am I supposed to answer that? Grace wondered. He sure seems to know the answer. But how’s that possible if I don’t even know it myself?

“Alice Quinn taught you your first spell? A levitation spell, correct?”

“Reminded me of Harry Potter.”

Fogg laughed, “Yes. Magic seems that way too many amateur Magicians until they’ve done at least a year here.” He stood. “How did you feel doing a spell different than what you did to Professor Sunderland?”

Grace contemplated an answer. “I felt like I was in control—”

“And not the drugs,” Dean Fogg finished her sentence. “Which leads me to my next point. Here at Brakebills we take pride in our student’s focus and commitment to magic. Because of this, I confiscate anything that can distract the students learning. Of course, drugs and alcohol sneak in, but I do what I can to prevent such things. So, Ms. Grace,” he held out his hands, “Are you committed to Brakebills?”

Grace licked her lips, realizing what had happened. “You set me up with Alice.”

“I knew Alice would be a good teacher for you, and could teach you in a way many professors here cannot. So, yes. I did.”

Two nights before, it was a wild celebration at the cottage. Quentin had won the Welter’s Tournament for Margo and the team. Eliot had supplied fifty sum college students with cocktails, margaritas, and beers, though he found people who liked beer disgusting. Quentin, on the other hand, disappeared to his room. Grace and Margo were dancing with each other, causing most of the boys to stop and stare, which made the two girls laugh like school girls. But after two or three songs Margo disappeared to find Quentin. Refusing to stop partying, Grace went to Eliot’s bar and asked for what was strong enough. By the time the music died down and people were dropping like flies, due to the drinks and the drugs Grace had assumed, she was becoming dizzy herself, which was abnormal. It was barely her third drink, which never even made her tipsy.

“Eliot?” she asked, falling to the floor, “Did you roofie me?”

“That’s so cute.” She could hear Margo’s voice from behind her. “Quentin asked the same thing.”

When Grace woke up, she was next to a sleeping Quentin on one side and a frantic Alice on the other. Alice stood and paced. It didn’t take much for Olivia to realize that they were in the woods, alone. Alice was starting a spell, and Grace began waking Quentin up. Why do I have to keep waking him up? Grace asked herself. It was becoming annoying, truth be told. When Q did wake up and Alice was nearly done with the spell, Margo appeared.

“Woah,” Quentin muttered, surprised.

“Margo.” Alice began.

Margo looked to the blonde, “Yes?”

“Where the fuck are we?” Grace questioned.

“Wow, so demanding,” Margo laughed. “I suppose I will just give you your tasks now.” She pressed her hands together and rubbed them against each other, as if she were warming her hands up. She stopped. Then she snapped. In Alice’s hand a rope appeared, in Quentin’s hand a bow and a single arrow, lastly Grace had a net.

“What are we supposed to do with these?” Alice asked, investigating the rope in her hands.

“Well, you’re supposed to cut a tree down, Quentin kill a fish, and Grace needs to capture or kill a ferret.”

“Your joking,” Quentin laughed. “Right?”

Margo smirked. “Have fun.”

Grace did something brave and unexpected. She heeded Dean Fogg’s advice and speech, and handed her pill bottle over to him. Can I actually go clean? She wondered to herself. ‘Course not. I’ve never been clean. And yet, Grace made a promise to herself and the Dean that meant no more drugs. This was a new start, she had explained to him. A chance to become a proper student and learn magic—  and nothing, not even the Physical kids’ tempting parties, would convince her otherwise.

“Now.” Dean Fogg sat down and clapped his hands on his knees. “You’re probably wondering about your brother. Why is he so comfortable here, how did he get in, how did he know about your parents? Well, I can only answer two of three questions you may possibly have. For years your parents didn't believe you to have any magical powers, which was true up until over a week ago. As for your brother, they knew that one day he would become a powerful Magician, just like themselves. Of course, they were going to send Liam here, to Brakebills, but he never knew about magic, and when you’re thrown into this world, as you now know, it’s a bit rough and confusing. So, they brought him here each year for the mentorship program to get to know the students and the campus.”

Olivia was quiet. She didn’t know what to say or how to say anything. She thought about her friends: Eliot, Margo, and Penny. Grace thought about the night before, about Quentin, and what he said. All she wanted was for them to come back from Brakebills South or to go there herself. Apparently, she had to do a certain amount of weeks at this school before she could go there, which was why she was stuck in the Dean’s office, and living in a silent house without Margo and Eliot. The room was silent for a while as the Dean sipped more mimosa and ate his cinnamon roll breakfast. When Grace continued to stay silent Fogg cleaned his hands on his napkin, threw it on his plate, and stood.

Fogg went to the door and contemplated his next words. “Grace, it’s important you take magic seriously and learn fast. We at Brakebills are not known for being light hearted and easy on our students. Only the best of the best, the smartest kids on the planet, get to learn magic, and you’re one of those kids. Appreciate what you have and who you have.”

“Dean Fogg, why didn’t I go with my class to Brakebills South? I mean, I thought it would be important part of my education here, and yet my brother tells me I can’t go.”

“Well, if you want the brutal, honest truth… You’re not ready for Brakebills South. You’ve been here less than any of your friends in your class, but I can assure you that you will attend Brakebills South with due time.” Ending with more dead silence, he opened the door and watched as Grace quickly left his office.

After a day of trying to capture a ferret with a fish net, and as the sun began to set, the group banded together to figure out their problem. Penny, Quentin, Alice, and Olivia stood in a circle around the weapons or tools they were given by Margo and Eliot, and debated who should get what. Another hour of arguing later Grace scooped up an axe in the pile and headed over to a tree in the distance. Everyone went their separate ways to complete their new and traded tasks. It took nearly the rest of the day for Grace to finish hacking away at the bark, but her friends never abandoned her, knowing that they had to be victorious as a team. when tree did fall everyone was clapping in support.

"Yes, brava. Congratulations, everyone." Eliot and Margo appeared at a dinner table. "You've completed the task. Now you must make firewood from the tree, cook the fish to perfection, skin the ferret, and take turns blowing the horse." Eliot seemed very serious, waiting for someone to respond. They all looked at each other, confused. Laughter erupted loudly from Eliot and Margo’s table. Grace stared them down with her annoyance getting the best of her, so they decided to reveal the secret Physical Kid’s cottage behind them. A sigh of relief washed over the class of first years as they sprinted up the hill, past Margo and Eliot, and to the party being held in the back yard.

Margo caught Grace’s arm for a moment to speak with her. “Nice job out there, Olivia. Keep it up and you won’t get booted.” She let go of Grace. “By the way, Dean Fogg wants to see you.” She pressed her hands together, her forearms parallel with the ground below. Margo’s palms turned towards Grace was teleported suddenly to the Dean’s office.

[distinctivelibrarians]

Mmmmm tell me more about your thoughts on that Big Bang Job scene, yes please

Okay so this scene x x x x x x (all links are to @leverageepisodegifs who does amazing work!) is maybe one of my favorites out of all 77 episodes, because it has just. A lot of revealing character attributes in it, and watching them play out is heartbreaking.

Nate & Eliot:

I’ve already tag-ranted about Nate here but just to reiterate: Nate’s immediate reaction is jumping to Eliot protecting Moreau. And imo there’s really only two options to explain why (with my understanding of Nate anyway, totally cool and open to other opinions here):

one, this being the end of Season 3, Nate still doesn’t know where he stands with the team, individually. Talk all you want about his flip-flopping between drunk honest man, sober thief, drunk thief, mastermind, whatever - with the team as individuals, he doesn’t really start working all the kinks out of that (actively, consciously) until Season 4. But! There’s hints of Parker as the mastermind back into Season 1. It takes awhile for him to find his footing yes, but he does understand Parker, and what he doesn’t understand, he knows. He doesn’t understand, sometimes, her emotional reactions to things, but he can count on them going certain ways. (Not fool-proof, of course, but still). With Hardison? Nate underestimates him, yes, but he still has a good beat on what Hardison is going to do and how Hardison will grow if pushed in the right direction (personally, I don’t think Nate should be pushing at anything until he gets himself in shape. ...so, never, but not the point here). Sophie, he knows. Not to the degree he thinks he does, and if he could come off his high horse, that’d be great. But overall, after Season 2, he’s not really...surprised, by Sophie anymore. Delighted? Yes. Rapidly trying to catch up? Absolutely. But not surprised.

And then we get Eliot. Which, okay, first all, Nate does know Eliot. He knows him just as well as the others. Eliot is not this special, mysterious, brooding badass no one understands. Alright? Alright. But here’s the thing. Parker and Hardison? They’ve never had to change. They’re them. For better or worse, they are them. They grow, they adapt. They don’t become entirely different people. Sophie? New person on a daily basis, but with a core that’s still her. Especially by Season 3, after her trip to find herself in Season 2. Eliot on the other hand? Complete 180. ...okay, maybe 135, but, point is, he made a big turn - in his personality, his goals, his morals, his world views, how he treats himself and others. And, nothing against Nate - but Nate does not know that Eliot. Mister High and Mighty has never met that Eliot, probably didn’t even register that that could be Eliot except in the abstract.

So we get this scene. Where Nate is realizing he doesn’t know Eliot like he thought he did, doesn’t know what Eliot is capable of - was capable of - he is completely blindsided. And we all know how Nate is when he’s blindsided; he gets defensive. So where to go from there? If he doesn’t know that Eliot, he doesn’t know this Eliot. Stupid? Probably. Vaguely understandable? Maybe. But it basically boils down to: he doesn’t know why Eliot did what he did, so he jumps to conclusions, trying to make sense and pull himself out of a tailspin. And he ends up accusing Eliot of the unthinkable, because, at that moment, it makes sense, in his head.

And two! Much shorter, promise:

If he indeed does understand Eliot - both as he is on the team, and as he was, at least to some vague degree - what in the goddamn world would scare Eliot so badly that he essentially regresses, shuts down, puts Hardison at risk (and, by extension, all of them)? Nothing Nate wants to think about. So, again, go with the unthinkable, because at least that’s a shade more comforting (and, more importantly, easy to get angry at, rather than scared).

Now, Eliot & Hardison

I’ve said it plenty of times already - anyone sick of it yet? - but I wish we had a scene between them leaving the pool and this, or even one after this? After they’ve all settled down? After Pretzels, for all I care. Just SOMETIME IN THERE. Hardison should’ve gotten his chance to talk with Eliot. To vent, to rant, to yell, whatever. And maybe to let Eliot explain himself. Maybe. If he’s lucky. 

(Y’all know I love Eliot, I do. But what he did was stupid, dangerous, and Hardison would’ve had every right to be angry with him, to distrust him, for a long, long while. Eliot’s just very lucky Hardison isn’t one to hold a grudge (quick, terrifying retribution? Absolutely) against people he considers his. Hell, that could’ve been the entire conversation - Eliot acknowledging he fucked up to Hardison’s face and accepting however Hardison wanted to treat that.)

But!!! I have other thoughts!

And, namely, it has to do with their body language. Hardison and Eliot have no personal space. They just don’t. Take it however you wanna take it - romantically, platonically, whatever - but they really, really, do not have the concept of personal space unless one is trying to annoy the hell outta the other. And what gets me is, like I said above, Hardison would have every right to distrust Eliot at this point. Eliot risked his life (more on that in a sec), and didn’t bother to confirm that he was coming to get him. There was no “of course I would’ve.” or even a sarcastic equivalent of “duh” (again, more on that in a sec).

So. Every right to distrust Eliot, to pull away, try to reestablish a comfortable baseline. That’s not what happens here. Hardison is right in his face. Not pushing, not shoving or yanking him around, but just there. Like always. He’s livid, and in the second half he’s not even talking to Eliot. But he stays in his space, and he has no problem getting in the face of a man just revealed to be about twice as dangerous as previously assumed who had been lying to them for months. Hardison doesn’t hesitate, he stays right where he always is. At Eliot’s side, in his space, whether he wants him there or not, because he knows Eliot will let him. Eliot’ll be miserable the entire time, will let Hardison call him out to the only people he trusts, will let Hardison get in his face, because of course he would. That’s them. And - thank his lucky stars - that hasn’t changed. (He’s closed off, stand off-ish, sure, who wouldn’t be. But he doesn’t push Hardison away, doesn’t put distance between them like he does with the entire group when its him standing and them sitting.)

ALSO.

Eliot wasn’t just risking Hardison’s life. I fully believe Eliot went in there knowing one of two things were going to happen: one, he was getting out of there, with Hardison, and the job done. Or neither of them were walking out of there at all.

Because there is no world where Eliot does not go after Hardison - confirmation later be damned. There’s no point in stating the obvious when you’re in the kind of headspace he was in.

So. Job gets done. Or, he sees it going that one more step sideways, and he dives in after Hardison anyway, and they both end up shot or drowned.

And he can’t go to Moreau alone. He can’t. Take that as you will - because they need, at the moment, the con to be believable, because he knew Moreau wouldn’t trust him coming back so suddenly without proof, because he was in panic mode and wasn’t thinking straight and therefore took one of four people he trusts to have his back and have the highest chance of making it out of there in one piece. Take your pick.

Eliot & Parker

Not as long this time because, honestly, this is one of the most analyzed parts of this scene. How Eliot would trust Parker (and therefore the team) if she just asked. And for good reason! It’s a monumental acknowledgement of the fundamental trust between the team. (Fundamental meaning he would absolutely trust them with every part of himself, even if it’s ugly, even if he’d rather it be buried and never seen again, if they just asked - but the execution is a little screwy sometimes. Exhibit A: MONTHS OF HIDING). And its a beautiful thing. As is Parker’s acknowledgement that he doesn’t want to tell her, or them, but he will. And she respects that! They all do! They don’t ask, and we can probably be sure they never will.

You know what’s also cool about that? He’s just been revealed to be lying to them about something monumental that could’ve gotten them all killed aaaaaand...they don’t ask. They trust he’s not that man anymore, and that them knowing would be dredging up something absolutely none of them need, especially not at that moment.

He fucked up. But he’s still a team member, and they’re going to treat him as such.

Which brings me to Eliot & Sophie

Her immediate reaction, after her big “we all have a past” speech is just straight up: that’s not you. Not anymore.

No hesitation, no doubt, nothing. Just immediate, in his face - That. Is. Not. You.

And honestly? I think Eliot needed to hear that, at least the once. Because what is he but a man haunted by what he has been, what he still could be? He can’t outrun his past (one of my favorite things about his character is that he’s not looking for a redemption arc. There is no point where Eliot gets redeemed for his past actions and that’s...well, not okay, but it’s there, and it’s treated appropriately!), but there’s definitely the fear of slipping back into it.

So to have his team immediately support the fact that, despite everything that’d happened, they didn’t think he was that man, wasn’t in danger of becoming that man, and were properly horrified by what Moreau asked him to do? Probably did a lot in helping him come to terms with everything they were going to have to do (...and the warehouse scene later. Because he knows damn well he can be that man again. But his team gives him the choice, and the support, not to be. And that’s far more important than actually being unable to slide back into his past. He is making the active choice, with his teams support, to not be that man unless absolutely necessary.)

[somebodyhelpthenotdeadfreds]

Leverage of Tomorrow!

Here’s some cracky goodness for @marywisdom‘s birthday today! Hope you enjoy this mess, it was fun to write!

“You’re all wrong,” Mick declared, setting down his beer bottle and fixing the team with a look. “You’re going about getting the spear back the wrong way.”

Sara folded her arms and looked back at him, nodding for him to continue. “Then what do you suggest we do, Mick?”

Mick grinned, leaning forward in his chair. “Fight fire with fire.” He ignored the eye rolls and muttered comments. He knew he was right. “Hey, let me finish, ‘cause I don’t hear anyone else coming up with the good ideas. So listen to me, for once.”

He cleared his throat and continued. “The Legion is just a bunch of liars and thieves, and sadly, I’m the only liar and thief here, and I can’t do it all by myself. The only way you’re gonna get that spear is to steal it back. But you guys suck at being the bad guys.”

“So, again,” Sarah said, entertaining his motion for the moment, “What do you suggest we do?”

Mick stood up, and nodded over to where Ray was sitting in his chair. “Haircut, you’re with me. We’re heading out to Seattle, early 2000’s.”

“Sure!” Ray said, scrambling to his feet, always eager to help. “But, uh, why?”

Mick smiled. “I’m gonna find some people who actually know how to get shit done.”

When Sophie Deveraux opened her team's office door after the knock, she wasn’t necessarily expecting to see two men standing there, tall enough to tower over her, but she plastered on a winning smile and decided to play along.

“Can I help you two gentlemen? Do you have an appointment?” she asked. The one with the puppy-dog eyes brightened. Naïve, she noted, probably rich. Familiar face, too.

“Oh!” he said, smiling along. “We’d like to speak to an Eliot Spencer, please.”

The other man sighed, exasperated, but Sophie didn’t let anything register on her face that she didn’t want to show. Instead, she blinked and appeared slightly confused.

“I’m sorry, there’s no Eliot Spencer here,” she said. Mick scoffed out a laugh.

“Relax, we’re friends.”

Sophie finally let her expression dim. “That’s not really as comforting an expression as you may think it is.” She turned her head over her shoulder and said, very decidedly, “Eliot! a...friend of yours and his companion are here to see you.”

“Who is - I’m not here!” a voice yelled back. Mick stepped aside from Sophie and right through the doorway, not waiting to be invited in. Ray opened his mouth to apologize when Mick yelled back:

“Hey, Spencer, how’s that burn doing?”

Immediately the door to the kitchenette opened and Eliot came out, grinning. “Hot damn, how you doin’, Rory?”

Mick broke out into a grin and shook his hand, pulling him in and they shared a hug for approximately a nanosecond before pulling away. Ray was still a little stunned but Sophie nodded to him and he stepped inside. “Um, what - ”

“Haircut, Spencer,” Mick said as an introduction, turning back to catch back up with Eliot.

“My name - my name is Ray. Ray Palmer,” Ray stuttered. Sophie turned to him with a surprised look.

“You - you aren’t related to a Sidney Palmer, are you?” she asked.

“Unfortunately yes.”

“Oh,” she said, pursing her lips. “I - may have lifted a few things from him some years back. Just a few small diamonds, I was searching to find a piece of myself for a role - ”

“...What?”

Leaving Ray to Sophie for the moment, Mick turned back to Eliot. “Thought you weren’t a team player.”

“Thought the same about you,” Mick fired back, leaning back on the doorframe, shaking his head to get the hair out of his face. “So, what’s the job?”

“Who says I didn’t just miss you?” Mick joked.

“Yeah, I’m a real catch, Rory. But you got a job for us, don’t you?”

Mick grinned, full of teeth. “Yeah. You guys ever steal...time?”

Hardison was actually going to pass out from sheer joy.

Time. Travel.

Honest-to-god time travel. Interdimensional travel. Literal, actual superpowers. He was in heaven, and the only thing that would make this better was playing around with technology from a hundred years into the future. Amazingly, he was able to find a plug to connect his computer not on the Waverider and started trying to work his way into the system.

But he almost had a heart attack when he heard a chipper, computerized voice start talking directly to him.

“Can I assist you, Mr. Hardison?”

“Uhhhh,” he stuttered, looking around him frantically for the source of the voice. “Maybe. Who - who are you?”

“I’m Gideon. I’m the captain’s personal assistant,” the voice declared. “And I find your attempt at hacking into my servers quite amusing.”

“Uh, sorry, I didn’t - I didn’t mean to, uh, offend you or nothing. I mean, I’m just really into all of-” he gestured around him, wondering if she could see him “-this.”

“If you are curious, you could simply ask, Mr. Hardison, instead of hacking into the softare without permission.”

“I - I apoloize,” Hardison siad, sitting back odwn on his chair. “Could you tell me aobut this ship and, uh, all the tech stuff?”

“What in particular?”

Hardison grinned outright. “Everything.”

Parker narrowed her eyes from where she was watching in the doorframe before walking away, running to catch up with Eliot and jump onto his back. “Eliot!”

The man in question grunted, but adjusted her position so it was easier for him to support her. “Jesus, Parker, we’ve talked about this: I need a five-second warning when you do this.”

“You’ll catch me anyway,” she said back, then turned back to the pressing subject at hand. “Eliot, Hardison found a computer that can talk. What does he need us for, now?”

“Parker,” Eliot soothed. “Don’t worry. He needs us. Please - please don’t be jealous of an AI.”

“Fine,” Parker said, pouting as she held on tighter. “Where are you going?”

“Sparring off with Sara,” Eliot said, hoisting her up a little higher as he walked on down the hallway. “Do you think I’ll win?”

“Hmm,” Parker thought, resting her head on his shoulder. “First round doesn't count. I’ll bet afterwards.”

Team Leverage took up one side of the flight deck, and the Legends took up the other half.

“I can't believe you recruited thieves to help us,” Martin said to Mick with an eyeroll. Parker blinked at him for a few minutes, then turned to Sophie.

“Was that the insult?” she said in a stage whisper. “Because - because we are thieves. I don’t get it.”

“Do you have his wallet?” Sophie asked back, a slight smile pulling at her lips. Parker nodded.

“I’ve lifted a wallet, a knife, a couple tools, a Rolex, and a bag of Fritos.”

Sophie gave her a small high-five and then they turned their attention back to the briefing Sara Lance was giving.

“The main heads of the Legion are Eobard Thawne, Damien Darhk, and Malcolm Merlyn.”

Eliot’s head snapped up, then grimaced from where Sara had gotten him good at the base of his neck. “Did you say Malcolm Merlyn?”

Sara raised an eyebrow at him, then crossed her arms, hissing at the sting at her shoulder.

(The sparring match had been good for both of them, not having to hold back. But maybe they should have waited to do it until after the con was completed.)

“Do you know him?” she asked dryly.

“Seriously, Merlyn?” Eliot bit out, spitting the blood out of his mouth as his foot remained firmly on Merlyn’s neck, causing him to choke out a curse. “You - you run the goddamn Legion of Assassins, and you sent me some third-rate ones. I deserve better than that.”

Merlyn growled and tried to get up, but Eliot just added more pressure as he caught his breath.

“If - if I’m not honest, you aren't gonna improve.”

Eliot blinked. “Maybe.”

Nate Ford finally spoke up, addressing his team. “Alright guys, I have a plan. But I need to know how to knock out a guy with superspeed. Multiple times.”

Mick cleared his throat after swallowing his beer. “We’ve got these, uh, things that-”

“We are not lending some thieves that you just happen to know borrow any of the Waverider-” Martin’s exasperated interruption was cut off when he caught sight of Eliot’s hard glare.

“‘Scuse me,” Eliot said, his tone a few shades short of a snarl. “But your teammate was speaking.”

“Well, I-”

“Isn’t he a part of this here team? Why don’t y’all shut your mouths for a second and let the man talk?” Eliot snapped, and he leaned back against the wall of the Waverider and nodded to Mick. “Keep talking.”

Mick nodded back. “Thanks. We’ve got these things that can knock you out with a flash or something.”

“Does it look like this?” Parker asked, holding up the device in question. The entire Legends crew stared at her in disbelief.

“We keep those in our rooms, under lock and key.”

Parker shrugged, handing it over to Nate. “They were bad locks, what can I say?” she said innocently, flashing a grin at Mick, who returned it.

Nate cleared his throat, addressing his team again. “Alright, plan, plan. I think we’re going to go with a time warp.”

The Leverage crew nodded while the Legends looked confused. Nate only continued. “Okay, Sophie, I’m thinking Russian.”

Sophie’s eyes lit up. “Of course, Nate, nothing screams ‘seductive femme fatale’ like a well done Russian accent. There was this one time in Switzerland-”

“Yes, thank you, Sophie, but we need to continue,” Nate said, cutting her off. She gave him a narrow-eyed glare that meant that he would be getting an earful later that night. “Now, Hardison-”

“Comms are all set up,” Hardison announced, tapping away on his laptop. “We should have a standard connection, and I’ve set up all our fake IDs, except for Eliot, ‘cause, well, one of them already knows you.”

Eliot nods, surveying the room again with narrowed eyes, daring anyone to interrupt. No one did.

“...And if at any point we need to contact anyone on board,” Nate finishs, directing this point to the Legends. “We’ll call Mick.”

“But-”

Eliot turned up the glare and Nate Heywood went silent. Nate Ford cracked his knuckles and sighed. “Yeah, should only take us about four days.”

“Four days? We’ve been tracking them for months,” Jax said in disbelief. “You can’t just-”

“Yeah, you guys did all the surveillance work, thanks. Shouldn’t be too bad.”

The Legends all silently disagreed.

Four days later

Eliot came hustling back onto the Waverider, tossing the Spear of Destiny onto the floor and straightening out his neck, ignoring the bruises and dried blood on his face and arms. “Here you go.”

Martin actually dropped his glass on the ground and shattered it. Everyone’s jaw dropped as the rest of the Leverage crew, sans Parker, climbed back onto the Waverider. Nate stretched his neck as well, letting out a sigh.

“That was fun, got your spear back.”

Jax broke the ice first. “How - how did you-”

“Oh, it was just marvelous,” Sophie drawled as she came up behind Nate. “Time loop scheme, of course.”

“Classic,” Mick said, raising his beer bottle in celebration. The other Legends just looked confused. Nate rolled his eyes.

“Sophie, they’re not criminals, they don’t know the time-loop con.”

Hardison came up behind them, leaning against one of the chairs. “Basically, it’s a Groundhog Day situation. Make the mark think they’re stuck living the same day over and over.”

“Took four tries,” Nate yawned, itching for a drink. “Honestly, I thought it would have taken longer, Thawne looked like he was going to crap his pants when he thought they broke time.”

“And poor Damien, I had to spill his coffee on his suit over four times. Must have a second-degree burn right now,” Sophie sighed, blowing her hair out of her face. The Legends were still too stunned to say anything. Hardison suddenly straightened up.

“Oh, almost forgot, we got somethin’ else,” he grinned, then called over his shoulder. “Hey, Parker, you coming or what?”

“Here!” Parker squealed, rushing onto the Waverider. And she was dragging someone behind her...someone who looked pissed off, yet amused...

“Leonard?” Sara screeched in disbelief, and everyone’s jaws hit the floor again while Mick spit his beer out onto the floor. “You-”

“Did everyone miss me?” he drawled, letting Parker pull him all the way to the center of the room.

“How - how -”

“I stole him!” Parker grinned. “I mean, I stole a whole orphanage once and got them all ice cream, but Len was just there. You were - you tell them,” she directed to Len, and he grinned back at her.

“Yeah, so when the Oculus blew I kind of got sucked into the time stream and it just so happened that the Legion pulled me out first. Thanks for looking, by the way. How do you think the Legion came up with half their plans, they had me on background duty. Armchair planning. The worst,” he half-groaned, rolling his eyes for effect, before smiling again. “And now I’m back, I hope you still have room,” he said, directing a short glare over to where Nate and Amaya were standing, and they shifted uncomfortably.

Len noted this with satisfaction and walked right over to Mick, who had his arms folded and his eyes narrowed. Len tried the smooth smile to be annoying. “Miss me?”

“That was goddamn stupid, you know that?” Mick snapped, referring to the whole affair at the Oculus. Before Len could respond, Mick was already talking again: “You do that again, I’ll kill you myself. They gave your room away.”

Len winked. “Nice to know you missed me. And good thing I was sleeping in yours anyway, then.”

There was a choking noise from behind them, it sounded like either Ray or Martin. Len was sure he heard Sara giving a thumbs-up.

“Well, our work here is done,” Nate announced to his crew, and they all said their goodbyes the Leverage team, and walked off the Waverider. All was well.

“...Parker, did you steal a billionaire’s wallet?”

“He doesn’t NEED it, Eliot, he’s a billionaire. He could buy a billion wallets.”

[megaphonemonday]

hashtag blessed

approximately forever ago (I’m real slow filling these prompts in case none of you have noticed) @alwayskels sent me this: Ginny is pregnant with Bawson's first baby and her appetite is insatiable! It turns into a thing where like fans take pics with her at restaurants #EatWithBabyBawson. It's all one big joke in good fun. Mike and the team have a field day with it.

And I have wanted to do a multimedia fic for a long long time. I sensed my opportunity and took it. This was a labor of love and I’m actually really happy with the way it turned out. Hope you like it, too!!

read on ao3 | version with image descriptions

The fact that everyone, from bloggers to commentators to fans to people who’d never actually watched a game of baseball in their life, immediately read into Ginny’s placement on the 60-Day DL shouldn’t have been such a surprise. It seemed like every time Ginny so much as changed her coffee order, the public at large was eager to dissect and discuss the incident ad nauseam.

This was no different.

Another elbow strain. Tommy John for sure. She’s out for the season.

No, it’s just a jammed finger I think. They probably wanna make room on the roster, try out some of the newer prospects in AAA.

But did you see her favor her left hip last week? Her landing was off the entire game against the Rockies. It’s gotta be that.

And, of course: Well, what if she’s pregnant?

By far, that was the most popular explanation.

If it weren’t also 100% correct, Ginny probably wouldn’t be so annoyed about it all.

Then again, the sheer number of times a possible Ginny Baker pregnancy had been rumored and reported on—She walked out of a restaurant with her hand on her stomach? Pregnant. Had a less than stellar outing on the mound? Super pregnant. Sent Mike out to CVS to get tampons because she couldn’t be bothered to pull herself together enough to leave the house? Obviously trying to cover up the fact that she was, you guessed it: pregnant—someone had to hit on the truth eventually. 

It was cold comfort.

It’d be a little funny if it wasn’t her uterus constantly under such scrutiny. And if she hadn’t had all these hormones flooding her system for the past three months.

As it was, Mike was much better situated to find the humor in the situation. He was currently sitting by her side on the couch, one arm draped casually over her shoulders, reading out the responses he liked the most and counting the number of people who’d finally gotten it right. He could afford to find it all funny, though. He’d only been involved in the parts that were fun for them both.

Which wasn’t precisely fair, Ginny knew.

In the three or so weeks since Ginny’d told him the news, her husband had been on cloud nine. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t been trying for this in the general sense—they both wanted kids, but Ginny was still going strong and Mike was willing to wait—but they hadn’t put a lot of effort into it. (Aside from getting as much practice in the baby-making department as they could.) 

So, Ginny’d gone off to Spring Training, not once suspecting what might be forming somewhere behind her belly button.

Not until she couldn’t stop throwing up.

It was so bad, she’d had to skip a start. She’d told Al it was just the stomach flu, and even believed it. Only his skeptical smile and insistence on a doctor’s appointment made her wonder if it was something else.

Needless to say, the skipper’s suspicions paid off. She was pregnant. Nearly nine weeks along.

Ginny will never, as long as she lives, forget the look of awe and tender devotion that took over Mike’s face as she told him, shell-shocked and jittery and still happy as hell, that he was going to be a dad.

His hand came up to cup her cheek, and Ginny could feel the way his fingers trembled. Just like his lips as he swallowed, eyes shining. “I’m gonna be a dad?” he repeated, like he needed to hear it again, just to be sure.

She nodded, covering his hand with hers, and finally letting the brilliant, excited grin spread across her face. “Yeah,” she breathed, just before he crashed into her, his lips stretched just as wide as hers.

And how could she help but laugh when he wrenched himself away, his hands fluttering uncertainly near her stomach. “Shit! Are you all right?”

“I’m pregnant, not fragile,” Ginny promised, though Mike still looked doubtful. To prove her point, she pulled him back in and set about showing him how tough she was.

Since then, Mike had been pretty reluctant to leave her side. Which made the one road trip she’d been on something of an experience. He hadn’t been able to come up with a plausible reason to follow the team to New York and Philadelphia, but Ginny had no doubt that he’d really tried. He’d had to settle for hourly text updates, and when she was too busy to reply, pumping his former teammates as subtly as possible for information on her condition. Since more than one of those teammates asked when Mike had gotten such separation anxiety, Ginny figured he was semi-successful.

Which was why she knew that Mike was secretly relieved the team had elected to put her on the DL rather than risk complications.

If she was being honest, Ginny was relieved, too. Unexpected or not, she’d already grown attached to the little bundle of cells growing inside her. Much as she loved her job, she wasn’t as disappointed to give up a season as she’d once thought she’d be. Then again, after four seasons in the show, Ginny no longer had to battle and grind and push to keep her spot in the rotation. No, she’d probably never move much beyond her spot as the number five starter, but her ERA and win-loss record spoke for itself. She wasn’t going anywhere.

Even after a baby.

So, the public could speculate and take to Facebook and Twitter to talk about her all they liked. They couldn’t change the fact that Ginny Baker was living the dream: a starting pitcher in MLB, married to the love of her life, and expecting her first child. 

That was real. That was tangible, unlike all the talk currently flooding the internet. 

And real life, the life where Mike’s fingers were toying with her hair and she could smell their dinner simmering away on the stove, that was what mattered.

People said pregnancy was magical. 

Ginny had more than a few doubts on that front. 

Going into this, she had no illusions that her North Carolina public school sex education had been anything close to adequate. Which was why she’d set out to fill in the gaps in her understanding.

(Not the process of making the baby—she had plenty of experience with that, thank you—but what came after.)

And the more she read about pregnancy, with all its potential dangers and complications—the more horrified she became. 

“Did you read this?” she demanded throwing What To Expect When You’re Expecting on Mike’s cluttered desk. 

He peered at the book for a second before glancing up to her, his reading glasses slipping down his nose. Which just wasn’t playing fair. He knew how Ginny felt about his glasses. 

(In fact, it was potentially those exact feelings that would wind up taking all of Ginny’s research out of the realm of theoretical and landing it squarely in reality.)

“Which part?” he hedged, closing his laptop and giving her his full attention. 

That was one of the things about Mike. It didn’t matter how irrational Ginny knew she was being, he always treated her concerns and fears with nothing but complete gravity. And he never tried to talk her down without knowing what those concerns were. 

She swallowed. “All of it?”

“Not yet,” he answered honestly. “I kind of figured we had time on that front.” His eyes narrowed and darted down to her flat stomach before landing back on her face. “We do have time, right?”

“Yeah,” she laughed, which was apparently all she’d needed to let this pile of worries melt away for the time being. Ginny wouldn’t forget the things that’d scared her, but Mike was right. She didn’t need to worry about them now. “We’ve got time.”

But that was before she found out she was pregnant. 

In the after, Ginny had become remarkably zen about it all. Sure, she’d probably see pimples in places there hadn’t been since she was an acne-prone teenager and later she’d need to pee every fifteen minutes and the mood swings didn’t sound like a walk in the park, which was to say nothing about the changes she’d have to make to her diet, but—

(And it was a pretty big “but.”)

But at the end of it all, she’d have someone who was the perfect blend of her and Mike. Someone who was proof positive of how much they loved each other. Someone to add to their family. 

And that was a fair payoff for what Ginny would have to go through to get to that point, she thought. 

Just. She didn’t always have to be reasonable about it, did she?

In retrospect, Ginny would acknowledge that she could’ve been less dramatic. But her whole life, she hadn’t been able to eat cilantro without thinking about the time her pop washed her mouth out with soap for repeating the curse Evan Larson had taught her in pre-K Sunday School. Now, she nearly ate half of Livan’s sopes before he remembered to tell her he’d asked for extra of the disgusting herb. 

What the hell had pregnancy done to her taste buds?

She’d honestly thought Mike would find the story funny, maybe even figure out how to get it down to 140 characters so he could tweet about it. 

(He’d really gotten into social media post-retirement. Eliot had been more than delighted to give him a tutorial that first winter, and soon, Mike could give the best of them a run for their money. Privately, Ginny thought he mostly used it to avoid finishing the memoir he’d insisted on writing himself, but whatever made him happy.)

She certainly hadn’t expected him to send out a panicked group text to nearly every one of their friends and acquaintances asking if they knew of her whereabouts. Since she’d been in the clubhouse, trying to keep up appearances that this assignment to the DL was injury-related, approximately half her teammates came rushing into the dining area to check on her and make sure Livan wasn’t in the process of murdering her or something.

Since the Cuban was too busy laughing his ass off at Ginny’s distress, which, while rude as hell, wasn’t going to kill her, most of them wandered off to finish their pre-game prep. Still, not a single Padre had any desire for their former captain to burst into the clubhouse in a haze of Ginny-induced panic. As team captain, Blip took it upon himself to inform his predecessor that his wife and future offspring were fine and headed home.

It wasn’t that Ginny didn’t feel bad for worrying him, but she also felt he could afford to take a step away from the edge of constant panic. Some time after that haze of blissful anticipation wore off, Mike dove headfirst into preparation mode. He called it nesting; Ginny'd call it something else. Currently, he was in the midst of trying to baby-proof the entire house and refusing to believe that they didn’t need a toilet lock for at least six more months.

(Ginny did her best to distract him when he really got going, and while there was a certain novelty in being the calm and steady one now, there were only so many times she could lure him back to bed—or the couch or the shower—without raising his suspicions.)

So, she listened to her captain and went home to talk Mike down. After all, the team wasn’t wrong in assuming it was only a matter of time before Mike burst into his former domain, wild-eyed and terrified. 

When she walked in the door, it was to that exact sight. 

Mike had clearly been pacing a hole in the floor, his car keys clutched in one hand, like he didn’t quite trust Blip’s report and was fully prepared to rush out if Ginny didn’t make it home quick enough. Any exasperation she might have felt faded away at the palpable fear etched across her husband’s face.

The keys dropped to the floor when he caught sight of her. In no time at all, he had Ginny wrapped up in his arms, his face pressed into her hair as shuddering breaths wracked his frame. 

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, smoothing her hands up and down his back. The muscles there didn’t quite relax, so she rucked up his shirt, laying her palms against his warm skin. By degrees, his breathing evened out, all while Ginny promised, low and sure, “I’m fine. We’re fine.”

He nodded but didn’t loosen his grip on her.

“Are you okay?”

Mike nodded again, and Ginny felt the precise effort it took for him to make the high-wire tension of his muscles loosen, approaching something close to normal. She pressed a kiss to his collar bone and another to the base of his throat, waiting until he sighed. 

Finally, she tipped her head back to look him in the eye. There were still more than a few jitters clanging around somewhere in that head of his, but he looked far more settled than he had been. 

“The sky’s not falling, Mike. I’m not gonna tell you not to worry, but this is a good thing, what we’ve done. Let’s enjoy it.”

“Okay, Gin,” he said, nodding his agreement. He’d follow her calls for this. There was still a hint of uncertainty in his eyes, but his smile was steady. 

That was a start, and, with them, a start was all they needed.

After Ginny asked Amelia to issue a statement about the impending addition to the Baker-Lawson family, she sort of expected to be done publicly talking about the state of her uterus. 

She was pregnant. She and Mike were very happy about it. She and the developing fetus renting out her womb for the next however many weeks were healthy. 

What else did anyone need to know?

How she’d ever deluded herself, Ginny would never know because within minutes of the statement going live, the news had exploded across the internet. It probably didn’t help that it wasn’t just ESPN and Fox Sports reporting on it. No, gossip sites and blogs had picked it up, too, and run with it.

Which was to say nothing about Twitter. 

All it took for people Ginny had never heard of, people she’d never meet or even pass on the street, to weigh in on her pregnancy was a valid email address and an internet connection. 

And they were all led by none other than her husband and his crusade to make #BabyBawson a thing.

If Mike was disappointed that she’d nixed all of his social media-based pregnancy announcements, he’d gotten over it quickly. He didn’t respond to every congratulatory tweet, but only because it was an impossible task. As soon as he’d get done with the last of them, a hundred more would’ve been posted. 

When Ginny’d asked him to enjoy the ride, she was pretty sure this wasn’t what she meant. 

But, he was happy, and it was hard to argue with that. 

In fact, a lot of people were happy about this baby. People were excited for her, which was a gratifying change from the usual reaction when Ginny’s name was in the news. 

It was pretty overwhelming, too, if Ginny was being honest. Overwhelming enough that she mostly elected to stay off social media. 

If only her friends had gotten the memo.

Not that Ginny even minded Evelyn sharing this. It was different when it was her closest friend sharing her excitement.

Ever since she first found out, Evelyn had been her rock. Evelyn was her only good friend who was also a mom. She was the only person Ginny could talk to about all the changes her body was going through or about what to expect next.

After the requisite congratulatory hugs and celebrations and check ins, Evelyn Sanders got down to business, peppering Ginny with enough information to make her head spin. Everything from the various pros and cons of a midwife versus a doula to the nitty gritty details of breastfeeding to the best yoga positions to keep her back from getting too sore once she'd swelled up like a blimp was laid on the table.

“Oh, and we still have all the parenting and pregnancy books, so don’t worry about buying those, either.”

Ginny laughed, the weight of keeping this secret from her best friend lifting off her shoulders. “Ev, the boys are twelve! Were you just waiting for this moment?”

“Yes,” she responded immediately, setting Ginny off again. “I tried to donate them once, but Blip snuck them out of the box like I wouldn’t notice. I don’t think he’ll mind them going to you two, though.”

Blip hadn’t quite given up the dream of a baby girl Sanders, but he’d gotten much more philosophical about it all. With Ev back in school, and getting her business up and running, he could admit that the past few years wouldn’t have been ideal timing to add on to the Sanders clan. Anyway, he and Evelyn were still young; they had time.

Maybe—just maybe—by the time Mike and Ginny were done with the books, Blip and Ev would need them again.  

After all, it'd be kind of nice for their families to have two generations and three sets of best friends.

So, the fact that Evelyn was ecstatic for her, that was nice to know, nice to have everlasting proof of, even if the world got to know about it, too.

And anyway, Evelyn’s online exuberance didn’t have anything on Mike’s.

He was an excited first time dad. How could Ginny blame him? 

Honestly, though, it didn’t bother her that people were talking about her. Not really. Sure, it was one thing for her husband and friend to talk about how excited they were and an entirely different one for a stranger to do it. That was more than a little strange, but she’d mostly accepted that that kind of attention was a part of her life now; ever since Ginny first started making waves in the minors, people had been talking about her. If she let it bug her, she’d never get anything done. 

Just, she didn’t particularly want to deal with it herself. 

So, she did her best to shrug off her clogged notifications on Twitter and Instagram and go about the business of growing another person inside of her. 

And, lately, fending off some of the truly ridiculous cravings that had taken over her refrigerator and life. 

The cravings, when they came, were no surprise. Remember, Ginny’d done her research. If anything, she’d been looking forward to them. Someone who’d already enjoyed her food, Ginny looked forward to a period of judgment-free eating. After all, was eating banana peppers on everything for a week straight that much stranger than some of the “health” foods her trainer had tried to convince her to eat?

She knew what Mike would say, but the little disagreements were what made a marriage interesting.

But while Ginny—and Mike, who had cheerfully taken on the sudden increase in grocery store runs—took these cravings in stride, the same couldn’t be said for the public at large.

Ginny’d always liked food and had never bothered to pretend she didn’t. But, since she was a woman in the public eye, this was often treated as some sort of alien anomaly. People always wanted to know what she was eating: her game day meals, what she had on cheat days, secret diet tips. 

Of course her cravings were no different.

Between Ev and Mike, people had definitely clued in and picked up on the fact that Ginny had really settled into the inexplicable cravings stage of pregnancy. There was tons of advice pouring in from all over the world. How to deal with it and what to do when they were impossible to sate. It was all incredibly sweet, even if Ginny couldn’t sympathize with the impulse to send a total stranger pregnancy advice.. 

Less sweet—more puzzling—was how invested people continued to be in these cravings of hers. 

In retrospect, it shouldn’t have been so surprising that run of the mill pregnancy cravings had become such a fixation for people. The public at large was hungry for details—#BabyBawson had trended at least three times—that Mike and Ginny just weren’t providing. Since they’d chosen not to find out the sex of the baby, debates about possible names or future careers were too theoretical to keep anyone’s attention, and even though her and Mike’s relationship had caused something of a stir when they first went public, they’d now settled hard into boring domesticity. Well, Ginny wouldn’t call it boring, but she could see how cozy dinners at home and trips to the farmers market didn’t exactly make for riveting news.

Aside from Mike’s unbridled excitement, the only information anyone really had about Ginny’s pregnancy were the cravings. Where else would all that curiosity fixate?

It wasn’t until she came across Mike taking a picture of their grocery list, though, that Ginny realized just how fixated it was. 

He frowned down at the pad of paper sitting on their kitchen table, next to the neglected bags of groceries and his keys. As Ginny started putting things away, approvingly noting that he’d anticipated her sudden desire for Nutella and bananas on toast, Mike squinted up at the overhead light and shifted, his shadow moving away from the table. 

“What are you doing?” she asked, already unscrewing the jar. Why wait for toast, anyway? A spoon was good enough. 

“Taking a picture,” he replied absently. 

Ginny rolled her eyes, not that Mike noticed. She drifted over to his side and propped her chin on his shoulder, peering down at the phone in his hand. 

“Are you seriously posting our grocery list to instagram?”

“Our third grocery list this week,” he corrected, bumping her hip with his, but failing to dislodge her. 

Ginny just laughed, leaning harder into his side. She didn’t pay much attention as he picked his filter and fiddled with the settings; she was too busy planning on getting him back in bed for an afternoon nap. When he made a satisfied noise, though, she turned her attention back to the screen and couldn’t help but laugh again.

“What?” Mike asked, grinning down at her. 

“Our unborn baby does not need two hashtags. It doesn’t even need one!”

He laughed, too, and kissed her forehead. “That’s not what the internet thinks, Gin,” he said, and sent the picture out into the world.

Whether he meant to or not, with just one post, Mike set off a verifiable social media movement. Seriously, when Eliot looked into it, he couldn’t help but be impressed by how quickly the hashtag took off.

The one time she brought herself to look at the search results, it was mostly full of people talking about how cute it all was, how excited Mike was about her pregnancy. 

Ginny couldn’t disagree.

He was cute. Ginny’d lost track of the number of pictures of onesies and maternity shirts he’d texted her, mostly without comment but the intent clear. Still, she had every single one saved in a folder on her phone. Going to Target with him had become next to impossible since he always ended up in the baby aisle, staring in awe at all the tiny shoes and blankets and toys. 

If Ginny’d thought about it, a picture of that—bearded, take no shit Mike Lawson undone by the sight of some baby essentials—would’ve blown #EatWithBabyBawson out of the water. 

As it was, she liked getting to keep that part of him all to herself. 

Even if the internet was blowing up with her eating habits as fast as Mike could supply them. She’d leave the social media stuff to him.

But then her teammates had to go and get involved. 

Technically, there was no reason for Ginny to keep going into Petco. She wasn’t actually injured. It wasn’t like she had to check in with the team trainers or make sure she was keeping up with her workouts. Which she was; Ginny might be taking more naps than she was used to, but even pregnancy couldn’t completely erase her practically boundless energy.

Then again, she’d spent her entire adult life in and out of stadiums. It didn’t feel right to be anywhere else during baseball season. 

Her teammates were generally pretty good about her and her growing baby bump’s presence in the clubhouse. There were enough dads on the team that no one hassled her.

Well, not in ways she couldn’t take.

Ginny didn’t care what anyone said. That omelette was delicious. She even got Jean-Luc to try it and in spite of his refined Parisian sensibilities, he’d admitted she was on to something. 

So had every Padre that she’d convinced to take a bite. 

Which was, admittedly, a pretty small group. Not that she could blame them considering how territorial she’d been over her bag of Funyuns the other day. Sonny was just too busy smarting from the way she’d smacked the snack out of his hands to admit to her culinary genius.

And really, they were just lucky she hadn’t shown up with the peanut butter and olive kick she’d been on the week before. 

In protest, Ginny resolved to steer clear of the clubhouse for a while. See how much they liked having the clubhouse menu go back to skinless chicken breasts and steamed vegetables every meal. They’d beg to have her back in no time flat.

Habit was a hard thing to break, though, and the following day, Ginny found herself back at Petco Park. Frowning, she stared up at the familiar facade outside the players’ entrance. She couldn’t go inside. Not if she wanted to teach her ungrateful teammates a lesson. 

So, rather than winding her way to the clubhouse, deep below the stands and concession booths, Ginny decided to stay well above ground. Cheerfully, she circled around to the front gates, calling Eliot as she walked.

It’d been a long time since she’d actually had the chance to sit and watch a game; she might as well take advantage of the opportunity. And since Mike was knee deep in edits to his memoirs, Ginny figured her beleaguered social media manager was the perfect recipient for her second standing ticket. 

After all, she’d put him through quite a bit lately. Even though Ginny still replied to the tweets and Instagram posts from her friends and teammates and whoever else Eliot deemed appropriate on her own, he took care of the rest. 

And the rest was substantial.

Technically, this was well above his pay grade. As Vice President of New Media in the Slater Management Group, monitoring one client’s social media presence should’ve been well beneath his notice. But Ginny didn’t quite trust the horde of interns and associates Amelia’d hired to form the base of her sports agency empire. 

And anyway, Eliot was a bit of a pushover. Supply him with enough snacks, and he’d do anything.

Ginny wasn’t exaggerating. She really could only go so fast, which was its own adjustment to make. In spite of all the eating she’d been doing, she hadn’t put on a ton of weight. It was the bump that slowed her down. Practically overnight, it’d blown up, delighting Mike who already had a hard time keeping his hands off her.

Where before she’d been able to hide the swell in loose tops and baggy sweatshirts, there was now no denying that Ginny Baker had been knocked up, and Mike couldn’t be any more smug about it. 

“You popped,” he grinned, coming up behind her as she frowned at her reflection in the mirror. This shirt had fit just last week. How was it pulled so tight now?

His hands landed on the fullest part of her belly, and Ginny couldn’t even bring herself to roll her eyes. Instead, she turned slightly to the side to better observe the molehill that’d become something of a mountain. 

“I guess I did,” she finally laughed, leaning back against Mike. “It’s not so bad, right? I mean, as long as I don’t get bigger.”

Wishful thinking. 

That’d been a few weeks ago and it seemed like all Ginny’d done since then was get bigger.

She didn’t feel slow per se, but she was suddenly so much more conscious of how she had to navigate spaces. Not only did she have to escape the grasping hands of strangers—Seriously, what about a pregnant woman’s stomach made people so eager to reach out and touch?—she had to plan her routes differently, allow herself more time to make it from Point A to Point B. Ginny could no longer slip through crowds or skip down the stadium stairs without a second thought. Maybe Mike and his worries had rubbed off on her, but she was conscious of every step she took now, careful in the extreme.

If some of her teammates were more than willing to poke fun at her for this, Ginny didn’t really mind. 

After all, she was more than capable of getting them back.

(Like he could’ve said anything else when she knew exactly where he slept. Still, Ginny made sure he knew exactly how happy his response had made her the first chance she got.)

And he didn’t keep his petty vengeances to the internet, either.

He did look to it for his inspiration, though.

During the All-Star Break, for those Padres unlucky enough to neither be selected to the team nor have any real plans to get out of it, Mike hosted what he named: “Top Chef: Not-So All-Stars.”

He thought it was funny, at least.

It was less a cooking competition than an excuse to make his former teammates come congratulate him on his impending fatherhood and bring food along with them.

Ginny did taste test every dish, though. Less because she wanted to rank them and more because she wanted to see what their wives and girlfriends had to put up with on a regular basis. 

Either being pregnant was messing with her tastebuds more than she’d thought, or her teammates were less of a disaster in the kitchen than she’d expected. Nearly every single one of them produced something that Ginny wouldn’t mind eating. Most of it even passed Mike’s more exacting standards. 

“Did you seriously make Lorena eat this last time she was pregnant?” he asked Salvi, peering suspiciously at the casserole dish. 

“Make her? It was all she’d eat for four days straight. I though I was going to have to invest in Ore-Ida to keep enough tater tots in her house to keep her and the boys fed.”

Mike still looked skeptical. 

“Just try it, old man,” Ginny teased, already trying to decide which of her teammates’ cooking she was going to try next. Omar’s ropa villeja looked pretty promising. “Or Salvi’s gonna think you’re chicken.”

When the first baseman started clucking under his breath, Mike swept a mutinous glare between him and his wife, who definitely wasn’t holding in a burst of laughter, and scooped a heaping forkful into his mouth. After a long moment of thoughtful chewing, he swallowed and pronounced, “That was disgusting.”

Ginny didn’t bother reining in her laughter after that. 

It wasn’t just her teammates and friends that got in on the fun, though. Ever since Mike had created #EatWithBabyBawson, people had been adding to it like crazy. Eliot always made sure to tell her when it trended in San Diego. 

Which was essentially every other day.

Mostly, it was people documenting their sightings of Ginny in the wilds of the city, creating a spotty map of her movements and the evolution of her cravings from day to day. 

Needless to say, as Ginny’s food swings (as Evelyn had taken to calling them) rolled on and on, there were many points of data to add. Hundreds of little incidents between Ginny and fans, all documented for posterity on social media.

And Mike encouraged them. 

If they were approached in a restaurant and Ginny was feeling up to it, he always cheerfully took a picture of his wife and her fan and often even sweet talked his way into getting a copy of the photo for himself. Ginny wasn’t unconvinced he wasn’t saving them in a scrapbook somewhere. 

He certainly had more than enough material. 

If Ginny wasn’t feeling up to it, though, Mike was the best buffer in the world. Even if he weren’t naturally charming, he’d learned over his close to two decades in the show how to interact with fans, how to joke and cajole and make a stellar first impression without doing all that much. It was one of the things Ginny admired about him. While she could fake her way through any number of uncomfortable interactions, Mike hardly ever got uncomfortable in the first place. He was too easy in his skin for that. 

Either way, the sheer number of positive Ginny-and-Mike interactions with the citizens of San Diego certainly had to be laid at Mike’s door. The bigger Ginny’s belly grew, the testier she got.

While she was always grateful for fans and their support, she was more than happy to leave their appeasement to Mike. After all, he wasn’t the one growing a whole new person. 

And he was more than happy to take that responsibility. Especially since it meant he got to trawl the internet for more fodder for the scrapbooks he swore he wasn’t making.

He showed the last one to her as they sat in bed at the end of a long day at the beginning of August. There were still two months to go until Ginny’s due date, but she couldn’t imagine getting bigger. Lying flat and looking down her body, she couldn’t see her toes unless she lifted one swollen ankle into the air. Which she did to frown at how fat her feet had gotten. 

She paused in this endeavor, though, when Mike waved his tablet at her. Ginny obligingly took it and skimmed over the story. When she was done, she handed it back and informed him, “I don’t even wanna know how you find this stuff.” 

“Then I won’t tell you,” he replied, prompt, before raising one eyebrow at her. The grin on his face had her melting even before he teased, “Sounds like someone’s got a crush on you. Should I be worried?”

Laughing, even as a little foot drummed away inside her belly, Ginny teased, “As long as you don’t cut off my animal style fries like you did all my cheese plates.”

“Listeria’s no joke, Baker.”

She waved him off, but plucked one hand from his tablet and laid it low against her stomach. What only a few months ago had been a slight flutter against her insides had become a definite kick. Mike’s face lit up and he abandoned his device and scooted down the bed so he could press his ear to the dome of her belly. Ginny watched fondly, even when the kicks shifted to her kidneys. 

“Once this thing’s out of me, I’m eating so much brie, Lawson,” she promised. 

“I’ll buy up all the cheese in France if that’s what you want,”

“And the wine, too?”

“So greedy,” he laughed, lifting up so he could press a kiss against her smiling mouth. When he pulled away, he said, “Whatever you want, Gin. It’s yours.”

“Just you. Just you and this one,” she said, laying her hand back against her stomach, right next to his. 

“Sounds good to me.”

By the end, Ginny wouldn’t say that she completely understood the dynamics of #EatWithBabyBawson, but she’d also accepted that that was okay. It didn’t matter that she had no clue what most of these people got out of it. 

There was something, and it didn’t matter that she was on the outside of it.

What she did know was how lucky she and her unborn baby were to have so many people in the world who cared so deeply about them. These were good people who wanted only the best for her and her family, and were trying to make sure, in whatever small ways they could, that she had an easy pregnancy.

(And if she got some excellent restaurant recommendations out of it, that was just a bonus.

Ginny’d be lying if she said she didn’t go out and try each and every one of these. They did not disappoint, either.)

So while her cravings had settled down and she was back to mostly eating like herself, she still appreciated the fact that people took time out of their day to worry about her. 

These were good eggs. Ginny didn’t completely understand them, but she was grateful for them nonetheless.

Which was why, even minutes after her water broke, while Mike dashed around the house collecting her go bag and going through his three separate checklists, Ginny sat down at the kitchen table. 

Waiting at her place was the snack she’d just made for herself. Nothing fancy— the opposite of fancy, in reality—but she’d really been looking forward to eating it. Maybe it was the prospect of her own child’s nearing due date, but Ginny’d been thinking about her own childhood lately, and an after school classic sounded delicious. 

She was just coming back to the table with a glass of water when she felt something wet spill down her legs. 

Frowning at the still full glass, reality didn’t set in until Mike cursed behind her. 

“Did your water break?” he asked, faint. 

“I think it did,” she replied. 

And he was off, leaving Ginny to contemplate her uneaten snack.

Mike rushed back into the kitchen, looking pale and eager and vaguely nauseous, just as Ginny fished her phone from her pocket and gingerly eased into her waiting chair.

“Ginny, what are you doing?” he demanded, sounding like he’d love nothing more than to pick her up bodily and deposit her in the car so they could dash off to the hospital. 

“Taking a picture,” she snarked back. Her fingers flew over the keyboard as Mike shifted impatiently at her side. Once everything was just how she wanted, she tapped the screen one last time and sent the picture out into the world. 

Only then did she turn to look at Mike and, with a smile, say, “What are you waiting for? Let’s go have a baby.”

[my-abibliophobia]

Favorite Leverage TV Quotes

(After the team finishes their first mission and gives the money away to a hospital) Nate: Anyone who wants to walk away can go right now. (Dramatic pause) Eliot: One more... Hardison: Maybe two...

Nate: (climbing into his new Tesla roadster) Just because you're the good guys now, doesn't mean you can't have a little fun along the way.

Sophie: I never thought I'd say this. Ever. But that is too much money to steal!  

Alec: I got to get back to the office. I just remembered something. Parker: What? Alec: I just remembered gravity...and the squishiness of all my manly bits. Parker: I designed this rig myself. The line is carbon-fiber, five-point harness, weight support here, here, here, auto-breaking resistance on the main pulley back here. Alec: Okay, okay, cool, so it's tested? Parker: Not yet. Alec: Not ye..? When the hell were you going to test it? Parker: (pushes Alec off the roof) Big baby.  

Parker: They changed the lock. Alec: Just do what you do. I mean, whatever, what do you need?(Parker produces a plastic explosive) Alec: No. Mm-mm. Stop all that playin'. Mm-mm. Hell, no. (runs for cover)  

Eliot: The tall one, the way he used a knife, Ex-Marine, probably force recon. Alec: You IDed the guy off his knife-fighting style? Eliot: It's a very distinctive style.

Eliot: 5.56 NATO rounds, mixed in with some 9-mils from the submachine guns. Insurgents would have used AK-47 with 7.62 ammo. Has more of a crack. Contractor shot 'em up alright. Parker: (impressed) You IDed the weapon from the gunshot sound? Eliot: It has a very distinctive sound.  

(on their money from their first job)Parker: I put all that money in a Swiss bank account. Eliot: Millions of dollars and you didn't buy anything? Parker: I don't like stuff. I like money. Sophie: I bought a little retirement home in Ireland... and Dubai... and Tokyo. Parker: What about you? Eliot: Yeah, I'm not about to tell two known thieves what I did with a multi-million dollar payout. Sophie: Don't you trust us? (laughs)

(Parker has "medicated" Grant to help shake him up) Eliot: You gave him speed? Alec: He beat up a priest. (Elliot shrugs)

(While discussing how to "steal a miracle") Hardison: Long as I don't have to do anything immoral. Nate: No not at all. I just need you to figure out how to, you know...fake a miracle. (Eliot chuckles) Hardison: (long pause) We're all going to hell.

Alec: (to Nate) You...you're a Catholic who wants to fake a miracle. I'm pretty sure that puts us in mortal-sin territory. Eliot: So what...now you're religious, too? Alec: No, I'm not denominational. It's just, I never do anything my Nana said "don't do". 

Father Paul: Nate, no more lies! The Vatican's here! You and I both know what that means. Nate: Yeah, break out the grappa. Father Paul: Does my getting defrocked amuse you? Nate: No. Listen, listen, I just...let me explain this to you, okay? I just, this is...in here. (Nate moves toward the Confessional booth) Father Paul: Oh, there's always a loophole with you. (Nate enters the booth) That's my side!

Father Paul: I'll count myself blessed and take my miracle. Nate: Ah, but there was no miracle. Father Paul: Nate, five thieves saved my church.

Nate: (sarcastically) Yeah okay, yeah. Let's go rob Nicki Masconi. A guy who kills people and lives in our city. Yeah, let's do that.

Cheryl: I have been working my butt off on this account. But Steve? No, he's just sitting back, waiting for me to fail so he can swoop in and save the day. I swear, it's like he's a rogue and I'm a mage and we're part of the same guild, but secretly, he's at work with the Alliance to undermine us. Hardison: For the Horde! Cheryl: For the Horde! You play "World of Warcraft"? Hardison: You kidding? Did you get the new expansion pack? Woman, I was up all night. Now, look, I mean, "Burning Crusade" was great, but this new one is mind-blowing. Nate: (over comm) Hardison? You bailed on the job because you were up all night playing a game? (Hardison opens a cupboard to hide himself and talk back) Hardison: (quietly) First off, "game" is hardly adequate, okay?  

Parker: (reciting to Nate things she has found searching the luggage on the plane for a bomb) ...hatbox full of Euros, pouch of blood diamonds, a stolen Stradivarius. (musing) I've never lifted one of those.

Sophie: How did you both know there would be an extra uniform in the bag? Nate: Everyone knows flight attendants are required to carry extra uniforms in case they get called to work unexpectedly. Eliot: Or if something happens to the one that they're already wearing. Sophie: How does everyone know that? Nate: Worked airport security. Eliot: Slept with a flight attendant.  

Parker: (to Hardison) What are you doing? Hardison: Oh, I'm just remote accessing a plane's electrical system from 3000 miles away. You know what? If you were a geek, you would be really turned on by this.

Eliot: (after unsuccessfully trying to wake up the hitman) When I knock people out they tend to stay knocked out.  

Parker: (referring to Nate's behavior) Is it me or is he getting creepier?  

Nate: Somebody find me a brain. Parker: Oh yeah, he's definitely getting creepier.  

Parker: (Crawling through the air duct) Looks like Parker's gonna have to crawl through the air duct again. God forbid anyone else would have to learn how to frickin' crawl on their stomach through a tiny space. It's not rocket science, people. Eliot: (On comm) Parker, you realize that we can still hear you?  

Derrick Clark: No, no cops. If they find out we contacted the police, they'd kill her. Sophie: They're not cops, I promise you. They're friends of mine, you can trust them. Derrick Clark: Why should I trust you? I don't know who you are. Sophie: I'm a thief. Derrick Clark: Okay,...I'm not sure what to do with that!  

Eliot: Let's go, man, you have it? Hardison: No, not yet. (Over comms) Sophie, we need that scene, are you finished with it yet? Sophie: It's in the box on the back of the truck. Hardison: Sophie, seriously Sophie, it was supposed to be a two page scene between Irina and a boy. Sophie: That's still the heart of it. Eliot: The heart of it? There's like ten pages here. You have a stunt? You have special effects? Parker: (takes script) Sister Magda crosses and gets a loaf of bread. Who's sister Magda? (Sophie arrives in full nun garb) Hardison: (To Eliot) Tell me you didn't see that coming.

Hardison: Woah, woah, woah. I'm getting a bunch of calls to the police. What the hell is going on down there? Eliot: I'll tell you what's going on. Parker just stabbed her guy with a fork!

Hardison: Woah, woah. I haven't slept in three days. I had a showdown with two different gangs, who, now, by the way, now know my face. I sat on a bomb. And all this could've been avoided had you gave the man a taco?

Nate: Sophie, how--how do you catch mob guys? Sophie: Uhh...two glasses of Chianti and a story about my grandma in Sicily. Nate: How does the government catch mob guys? Everyone: Taxes!

Leary: I was tricked. I was tricked! It wasn't, it wasn't me. You understand, I... Bonanno: Somebody tricked you into bringing a briefcase full of evidence of your own crime straight to the police? Come on, Mr. Leary. Nobody's that smart.

Eliot: (about Parker) She's dressed that way 'cause she's doing a con. Nate: What, you thought she was dressed like a nun for no reason? Eliot: She's Parker. Nate: Ah, fair enough.

Eliot: That's why the businesses are clean; they're dirty from the inside. Nate: Well, yeah, I mean, if you have a body in the trunk of your car, you're gonna drive under the speed limit, aren't you? Parker: You know, when you're sober, your metaphors get creepier.

Nate: Now if you'll excuse me, I am gonna go call a professional killer who tried to murder me and arrange to meet him in an isolated location.

Room Service Operator: It's chicken-fried steak. Sophie: It's what? Chicken-fried steak? Room Service Operator: Yeah. Sophie: Let me just tell you, meat should never be used as an adjective.  

Nate: Can I get this straight? Okay, you two couldn't rig a gym class and a spelling bee, and you two run into the only FBI agents on the planet that recognize you? Eliot: I gotta be honest with you, I think we broke the kid even more. Sophie: We are the worst fairy godparents in the world.

Nate: Who's that? Hardison: Oh, the kid. Kid's from her first marriage, Widmark. Eliot: I'm sorry what? Widmark? Hardison: Rich people, man.

Parker: Door alarm's got a Takashita 500 with redundant infrared. Window's easier. Alec: The window? The window that's 20 stories up? Parker: Like I said--easier.

Eliot: Hardison, we got a problem. Hardison: What kinda problem? Eliot: They're MRI'ing my pizza and their stance says ex-CIA. Hardison: You can tell somebody worked for the CIA just from how they stand?! Eliot: It's a very distinctive stance! 

Hardison: You were scared to fight a girl. Eliot: She'd mop the floor with you, Hardison Hardison: I don't care. Eliot: Seriously, she actually killed a guy once with a mop. It's a funny story, actually. She broke the mop and took... Hardison: Eliot, Eliot.

Tara: I checked you out, Mr. Ford. Half my sources say you're a vicious thief. The other half claim you're some kind of high-tech vigilante. Nate: I like that. I should put that on my card.

Tara: What are we supposed to do, steal the wake? Nate: Whoa, have some respect--borrow the wake, to save the bar.

Nate: All right, good news, bad news. Tara: Good news? Nate: The mayor's hooked. We're in the pinch. Tara: Bad news? Nate: I think we lost Eliot until the playoffs.

Sophie: Someone explain to me, what the hell is a Steranko? Hardison: Steranko's the toughest security system in the world, in the universe, in the multiverse, whatever. Eliot: How do you not know this? Sophie: I am a grifter. If I'm doing my job right then the mark just, click, turns off the alarm for me.   (As Hardison alters Moto's photo) Eliot: That's nice, make him--make him look drunker. And then richer. Hardison: What you want me to do, give the man a pet tiger? Eliot: Can you do that?
   Fake FBI Guy: FBI, sir. That young lady's in our custody. Hardison: Aw see, you made two mistakes, bro. First, you flashed that fake ass FBI badge at me. Second, you spilled his coffee. (Pointing at Eliot)
   Nate: Where's Eliot? Hardison: Oh, he had to change his shirt. He got coffee on it. And some blood and some teeth.
   Parker: Who knew a sedan could hit 140? Sophie: Parker, you are never to get behind the wheel of a car again, okay? Never. 

Parker: (noting a statuary in a vault) Oh, hello. Last time I saw you was at the Louvre. Well, actually you were in the back seat of my car, but before that you were at the Louvre. Nate: Parker, focus! Parker: Okay.


Hardison: Small one is land purchases--old manor houses up for auction, all within the last two years, all in Scotland. Ha! Places like, uh...Loch Glengorra...and Loch McGr-r-r...I'm not even gonna try to pronounce it, man. It's just a bunch of random Gs and Ns.


Nate: The name of this con is called "The Mummy's Tiara." Hardison: Come on, man, that can't be real. Parker: Am I gonna have to steal a corpse again?
   Parker: I still don't know why Sophie's not doing this part of the con. Nate: Well, the con requires a carrot and a stick. I need her to be the stick. Parker: Well, remember that time I was the carrot and I stabbed somebody? Nate: I do.
 

Parker: You know, I'm really starting to like tasing people. Is that a problem?


[sadlittlenerdking]

There’s This Idiot

The Magicians, Quentin x Eliot

Word count: 2,476

Summary: I fucking felt bad about that angst af drabble I wrote earlier so here have some crackish fluff where Eliot’s the oblivious idiot. (You may wanna read that before this bc this makes up for that and you won’t be sad if you read in that order. But if you read this then that, you’re gonna be sad)

Quentin doesn’t even remember falling asleep in the nook. But here he is, waking up, curled in on himself, with both of the sliding doors shut almost all the way. For a moment, he’s confused, mouth smacking together with sleep and thirst. He’s not sure what wakes up him up, but there’s a soft hum of voices beyond the doors. For a moment, he’s tempted to push them up and reveal himself, but the familiar sounds of Eliot and Margo’s laughing, followed by Todd’s disgruntled, confused grumbling, stays him for a moment.

He sits up, book three of Fillory and Further falling off him stomach and landing on the cushion behind him with a soft plop. He freezes, thinking it’ll alert them to his presence, but nobody comes forward to rip the doors open and call him out for spying on them. 

“Have you decided what you’re going to do?” Margo asks after a few long minutes of nothing but the sound of Quentin’s guilty breathing, and of ice being jostled around in a glass - presumably Eliot’s cocktail of the hour. 

He can hear Eliot’s long exhale, probably a cigarette. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” He responds, sounding a bit to suave, even for Eliot. Quentin resists a smile, as he scoots a bit closer to the nook doors, carefully to keep himself steady and to not crash against them. The last thing he needs to do is lose his only friends because a fresh round of paranoia and the urge to eavesdrop and make sure they don’t secretly hate him has decided to rear it’s head. 

“About Quentin.” 

Quentin’s heart drops. Because of course. They’re trying to figure out how to let him down easily. For once the depression induced paranoia hit the nail on the head. If he were still going to a therapist, this would be one of those things he’d opt to not mention. Admitting defeat to depression, is not exactly something that would keep him from immediate readmission. 

“Ah, this again?” Eliot murmurs, so soft Quentin almost can’t hear him. “You’ve really got to let this subject go, Bambi.” 

“I can’t when you’re mooning after him like some sad, sick, little lost lamb.” 

Wait - what?

“I am not mooning -,”

“Fine,” Margo amends, “Not mooning . . . pining? Longing? Oh, maybe yearning? No, no . . . you’re right. Achingly watching from a distance is probably more accurate.” 

Eliot huffs. “You’re obsessed.” 

“Only when I’m right.” 

They’re quiet for a few minutes, drinking, smoking, probably cuddling on the couch like they alway do. And Quentin’s about to try and go back to sleep, when Eliot says, “What if you are? He’s straight.” 

She scoffs. “Please. That boy is more bi than a bicycle at a tricycle convention.” 

Quentin nods to himself, she’s not exactly wrong. He’s always been attracted to whoever he’s attracted to - no specifications, no prerequisites, no anything - just whoever makes him feel alive. And, Alice may have been the first person he confessed his interest in, but she’s by far not the only one. Or the main one. He’s just always assumed Eliot would never, in a million years look his way as more than the poor, little sad first year he took under his wing. 

And Quentin does have feelings for Alice, but they had their thing at Brakebills, and everything fizzled out after the scent of the fox wore off and they realized they’re better off as friends. 

But, he has a strong, overwhelming feeling that what he feels for Eliot, as strong and annoyingly profound as it is, isn’t going anywhere. He’s just always assumed it’s this one sided stupid little crush. Because Eliot is, well, Eliot, and Quentin is so resolutely not. 

“What makes -,”

“Honey,” Something gets set down on the coffee table, “He’s bi. Make your move already.” 

“I don’t want to scare him off.” 

Maybe six months ago an advance from Eliot would have sent Quentin running in the opposite direction, desperate to believe that this is some cruel prank, okay, maybe even six minutes ago - but that’s not his fault. He knows Eliot now. Knows what makes him tick. Knows when he’s about to fall apart, and wha to say to keep him from falling over the edge. Knows just where to press into his shoulders to relax him. Knows his drink of choice, and how exactly to prepare it to get that proud grin after a first sip. 

“El -,” 

“I’m going to bed.” 

“It’s only 2am,” Margo argues, but Quentin can hear the rustling of fabric as they both get up, “It’s too early.” 

“It’s been a long day, and I’m tired. You can either join me, or go find someone else to cuddle up with.” 

Margo sighs. “You’re lucky I love you.” 

“I love you too.” Quentin hears one of them kiss the other, and then they’re walking up the stairs, and the lights turn off, leaving Quentin alone in the nook with his books, and his thoughts. 

And, jesus, he has a lot of thoughts.

Though, for once they’re not circling around in this disgusting circle of self hate and paranoia, because he has something else to focus on: 

Telling Eliot just how god damn, magically bi he is. 

* 

Of course it all goes terribly, terribly wrong. 

Because Margo is watching him, and Eliot’s avoiding him, and it’s this whole big stupid game of cat and mouse, where for the first god damn time in his life Quentin is somehow simultaneously the cat and the mouse. He spends half the day trying to track Eliot down, but every time he even gets near, Margo’s pulling him aside for fashion advice, or to look at this new spell she learned, or ‘How should I do my hair for tomorrow’s party? I don’t need you to tell me if I look good, just tell me which one looks better. Be honest, pumpkin. Or I will curse you.’ 

And, look, Quentin’s a relatively calm, collected guy, but fuck if he doesn’t get to kiss Eliot, or something, by the end of the day, he’s going to lose his fucking mind. Because he has been fantasizing about this for months, and after spending all that time thinking it’s nothing more than a fantasy, only to learn, hey we could have been making out this whole time - he’s got some time to make up for. 

A lot of time.

Because if he’s at all honest with himself, he would’ve jumped Eliot that first day if not for the obvious wonder at magic being real, Eliot being so blatantly out of his league, and did Quentin mention magic? 

When Penny appears in the cottage, bored and uninterested, Quentin tries so desperately not to think about it. But apparently focusing on not thinking about it makes him forget to focus on his wards, and suddenly Penny’s tilt his head and turning to him with an evil little smirk, and Eliot’s not even at the cottage, and Quentin wants to fucking die.

“Oh really?” Penny asks, slow and evil because he’s an evil bastard and Quentin hates him. 

Margo looks up from her magazine, waves a hand, “What’s happening here?” She asks, glaring up at Penny. “You two aren’t fucking are you?” Suddenly, she snaps the magazine shut and sits up straight, turning her glare on Quentin. “Are you?” 

Penny scoffs. “Not even in his wildest dreams.”Quentin tilts his head, starts thinking the lyrics to Taylor Swifts Wildest Dreams as loud as he possibly can until Penny growls, sneering at him. “If you know what’s best for you -,”

He stops midlyric, thinks at him, ‘Make her leave me alone long enough to find Eliot, and I’ll spend as long as it takes getting extra tutoring on my wards.’ Penny narrows his eyes, before nodding quick and short. “Actually,” He says turning on his heel and smirking at Margo. “I’m here for you.” 

Margo’s eyebrow perks in interest. “For me.” 

Penny nods. “Eliot’s not around is he?” 

She rolls her eyes, waving a flippant hand, “No. He’s studying like a nerd in the library. No amount nipple clamps can save him from an oral exam.” She shrugs a shoulder, placing her hands on her hips, “Apparently it’s not the fun kind of oral exam either.” 

Pen closes his eyes for a moment, clearly trying to avoid saying something dickish. “That’s . . . great. I guess.” He sighs, “Look. Let’s go out.” 

Quentin takes the moment shock runs across her face in every variation as his opportunity to sneak out of the cottage to go find Eliot. He tosses a soft thanks to the thought void, hoping Penny catches it, and starts running across campus. 

When he finds himself standing in front of Eliot’s table, he’s surprised to find he’s not lost his courage. His breath, from running all the way across campus, absolutely. His general overall decent composure, yeah that’s gone.

But hey, he’s got his courage. And a load of sweat pouring down his neck and back. That’s a great image for Eliot to look up and a see; a red faced, sweaty Quentin, grinning ear to ear like an idiot. A confused, soppy, courageous idiot. 

And the look on Eliot’s face is enough tos ay he thinks the same. His eyes track down Quentin’s body, taking in the mess that he is, before he sets his pencil down, leans one forearm against the top of the table, and looks up at him curiously. “Dare I even ask?” 

And Quentin takes a deep breath, runs a hand through his very wet, sweaty hair and nods. “Yeah. You should ask.” 

Quentin waves the hand that isn’t on the table in a go on motion. “Okay. Consider this me asking. What the fuck?”

Quentin nods, turning to his left and starting to pace as he wrings his hands in front of him. “See it all started last night, this morning, whatever,” He looks at him, “It was while the sun was down and the moon was up, technically night but also considered day. Anyways,” He waves one of his hands, looking ahead of him as he continues pacing, “I found out this guy I like likes me. Which, wow, kind of a big deal, right?” He looks at Eliot, chewing on his lip with a frantic nod to himself, but he doesn’t wait for a response. “Then today, I’m like, I have this whole big plan where I’m going to go all ‘surprise you’re an idiot I’m bi! Tada!’ But of course,” He stops to raise a finger to the sky, making a face, “Of fucking course!

“This guy chooses today of all days to avoid me.” He lets his eyes slide over to Eliot for a moment. He’s sat up straight, arms crossed over his chest, a look of mild curiosity on his face as he watches Quentin pace back and forth. “Which - I can deal with that. I can find a way to fix that. Avoidence is my specialty, I can trick people out of not avoiding me if I have to. But no. This guy, this stupid, amazing guy, he has his best friend try and distract me because he knows,” He stops pacing, turning to glare at Eliot, “He knows! I’ll come looking for him. But whatever. It’s fine. 

“So, I spend all day trying to sneak away from this amazing guys best friend, who is also amazing, by the way. I love her to bits. Beside the point, though. In order to escape the grasp of her dangerously sharp claw nails, I have to strike a deal with the devil!”

“The devil?” Eliot nods to himself, his lips twitching as he tries to fight off a smile. “Steep odds for a guy.”

“I know!” Quentin exclaims, “But the devil agrees to help, and I finally - finally - get away from this guys best friend. And I have to run all the way across campus, under the blazing sun in a fucking sweatshirt and jeans because I didn’t think to change, because all I could focus on was finally getting to kiss this stupid, stupid man. So I get there, I finally get there, and he’s actually studying - like, genuinely reading a book to avoid me. Which is frustrating. But then I realize I’m all sweaty and angry and sexually frustrated amongst other things - just as he looks up at me.” He pauses to breathing, heaving in a big breath as Eliot watches him carefully. “And the only thing this stupid man seems capable of doing is staring at me!” 

Eliot nods, pushing his chair back and standing up so Quentin has to look up at him as he slowly rounds the table. Quentin takes a small step back with every step forward Eliot takes, until his back bumps up against a shelf of books. “So, let me see if I got this right,” Eliot murmurs, swiping his index finger overtop the table as he passes it. “You’re not straight. You’re desperate to get fucked. And you’re in love with some oblivious asshole who just doesn’t appreciate all you’ve been through today? Is that about the jist?” 

He swallows as Eliot stops just a few inches away from him. “ S-Sounds about right.” 

Eliot hums, closing the space between them, his hand coming up to cup the back of Quentin’s neck. He doesn’t even make a face at the dampness there, just smiles down at him. “So, say this apparently attractive idiot were to make it up to you. How would he go about doing that?” 

Quentin shrugs, leaning into Eliot’s touch. “I mean. A good place to start would be a kiss . . . I can’t think of anywhere to end.” 

Smirking, Eliot leans down to whisper in his ear, “Oh, Q, I can think of so many places to end.” And then he moves around and presses his lips against Quentins, and jesus christ it’s so much more than any of the stupid, pointless, never going to ever seem good enough again fantasies. 

And then when Eliot’s tongue sweeps across the seam of Quentin’s lips, he swears he see’s a glimpse of god in the distance giving him a thumbs up. 

“Thank fuck,” He murmurs against Eliot’s mouth.

Eliot pulls away, looks down at him, one of his thumbs coming up to sweep along Quentin’s cheek, along his jaw line, “Oh, Q.” He says, soft, “We’ll get there, just not yet.” He smirks before leaning back in, pulling Quentin’s body taut against his own as they crash into the bookshelf behind them.

Quentin doesn’t even feel the spine of the books jabbing into his spine he’s so fucking happy. Sweaty and happy. 

[sadlittlenerdking]

Project Seduce Quentin Coldwater and So Lift His Spirits chapter 2

The magicians, Quentin x Eliot

Chapter 2 / ? 

Word count: 3,524

Summary: Eliot Waugh is just trying to fulfill a promise. He is absolutely not falling in love with Quentin Coldwater. 

Also on AO3.

“Eliot. That’s an ice cream shop.”

Eliot grins, looking over his shoulder at Quentin, who’s eyeing the shop with adamant distaste. “Yes, and we’re going inside. Come along,” He pulls at Quentin’s hand, but is pulled back when Quentin doesn’t budge. “What?”

“It’s snowing. And your idea of something exciting is eating ice cream?”

Eliot pauses, licking his lips as he turns to face him. “Yes, and no,” He starts, because Quentin really is clueless. “I was thinking this could be an all day excursion. Starting with ice cream.”

“Why?”

“You won’t understand until you’ve had a double scoop of ice cream, while sitting on a bench in the snow. It’s kind of . . .” He smirks, knowing full well Margo would full on slap him if she heard him say what he’s about to say, “Magical.” She wouldn’t be entirely in the wrong, because the two of them know actual magic, and this kind of thing isn’t even remotely similar, despite magic being used to create it.

But it is the closest Eliot can get Quentin without using the real thing.

“I meant why - I mean, that’s good to know, I guess - but I meant why do you want to spend the whole day with me when I’m a fucking depressing mess?”

“Hmm,” Eliot murmurs, taking a step closer until they’re barely a foot apart, “Maybe I just want to spend the day with a hot nerd.” He shrugs, “Or maybe I want to make you feel a little less depressed.”

“Or you want to kill me by freezing me to death.”

Eliot rolls his eyes, squeezing Quentin’s hand. “Trust,” he says, as he turns back to the ice cream shop, “The last thing I want is for the world to be deprived of Quentin Coldwater. A tragic life to lead, that’d be.” He smiles over his shoulder, tugging at Quentins hand. “Come on. I promise it’ll be worth it.”

This time, when he pulls him forward, there’s no resistance, and they go into the ice cream shop with relative ease. Well, until the bell over the door chimes angrily and Quentin nearly jumps out of his shoes, squeezing Eliot’s hand so tight he’s fairly certain he loses circulation for a few seconds. But it’s fine, because Quentin’s free hand grazes Eliot’s shoulder as he says, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” in a rushed whisper right below his ear.

His breath is warm and smells like mint. It’s not unpleasant.

The ice cream shop is small, run by a couple of Brakebills alumni. Behind the scenes, where Quentin and, because he’s with Quentin, Eliot aren’t permitted, there’s a room the size of a factory, compressed down to fit in the small shop on a random New York backstreet. Eliot’s been in the back before, had been invited after a particularly raunchy party at the physical kids cottage with one of the owners. In the thralls of summer, the shop is filled with young magicians, waiting their turn to get their own unique, specially made flavor.

Eliot has three.

And little does Quentin know, he has one as well.

What? It’s not like Eliot was going to take him on one of the most unwittingly magical experiences he legally can without making sure he gets to feel the full experience. All it took was a little spell, a teensy bit of Quentin’s essence - luckily left behind on one of the books he’d returned to the Brakebills library (Eliot had to hunt the new owner of the book down, but it wasn’t too much work) - and the ingredients that create Quentin’s scent. Which was also remarkably easy, because the smell of old books, oak, and surprisingly, lilac, aren’t exactly hard to come across.

Today, because there’s a blizzard on it’s way, or it’s already here, Eliot isn’t sure and he doesn’t really care, the shop is relatively empty. There’s a werewolf sitting in the corner, minding her own business, and a couple with a steaming cup of hot chocolate by the counter, but other than that, it’s your typical, winter wasteland of ice cream shops.

And it’s just the way Eliot likes it.

He pulls Quentin up to the counter, smiles at the owner. “Jamie,” He says, “So nice to see you again.” He’s not Eliot’s favorite owner, though they’d had their fair share of one night stands.

Jamie smirks, and Eliot feels Quentin shy away a step from the counter, but he’s quick to pull him back in, and flush against his side. “Eliot. Are you here to discover your next flavor? Because, as unique as you are, I don’t think there are many more. Most people only get one, as it is.”

Eliot laughs, “No, not this time,” He nods at Quentin, “This is the friend I told you about. Do you -,”

“Ah, Quentin,” Jamie says, raking his eyes over Quentin’s short form, which sends an unsettling spike down Eliot’s spine. “I’ve got just the flavor for you.” It’s probably just the cold that has Eliot shivering uncomfortably as they make eye contact.

Quentin’s eyebrows furrow, “But I - I haven’t -,”

“Eliot’s told us all about you.”

His head whips towards Eliot, tilting to the side like the adorable puppy that he is. “You talk about me?” He asks, quiet and unsure.

Eliot shrugs nonchalantly, “It’s not a big deal. I’m here all time, you tend to talk about the people you have coffee with, especially if they’re cute.” He smiles and leans down, “All good things, I promise.” It’s not entirely the truth, because he had come in a few times completely blasted on a few different drugs he can’t remember the name of, and told them everything about Quentin - which is why they offered to make a flavor for him, though it’s usually reserved for actual magic users. But, if Eliot’s being honest, Jamie’s willingness to make the flavor probably had something to do with him assuming Eliot’s dating Quentin.

Which is preposterous.

But he’s not about to tell him that’s not the case, when this is definitely going to help Quentin let go of his worries for a while. Just long enough for Eliot to completely woo his pants off him.

Because that’s his entire plan. To seduce Quentin. That’s all it is. One hundred precent.

“Okay . . .” Quentin murmurs, looking through the glass at all the natural, non-magical flavors. “I don’t know what to get.”

Eliot laughs as Jamie rounds the corner, coming to the front from the back with a small container sealed with wards that would put off anyone that didn’t create the flavor, or who the flavor was made for. Essence magic is incredibly tricky, and if any ol’ magician got their hands on it, they’d have the power to curse whoever’s essence they had. Hence, the wards. “I wouldn’t worry about that,” Jamie says, as he sets the container on the counter top, twists his hands in an intricate cast that has Quentin looking up at Eliot to silently ask if he’s crazy, and pops the lid off. “All I’d worry about is what kind of cone you want?” He wrinkles his nose, which is way hotter when Eliot’s drunk.

“I - a waffle cone?”

“Excellent choice!” Jamie looks up at Eliot, “And, as a surprise just for you, Eliot,” He smiles, and Eliot wishes he’d had more alcohol in his coffee earlier, “We whipped up a special flavor just for you.”

“I thought you said -,”

Jamie shrugs, waving a hand as he materializes another container from behind his back. “It’s different. What kind of cone?”

He eyes the container warily. “Waffle.”

“Birds of a feather,” Jamie murmurs as he pulls out two fresh waffle cones and starts scooping the ice cream into them.

Quentin looks up at him, gently squeezing his hand. “What’s so special about their flavors?” He asks. “You have three made just for you?”

“Four, apparently,” He smiles down at him, “You’ll see. Don’t start eating it until I tell you to.”

“Why not?”

Jamie holds the cones out for them, one in each hand, and Quentin releases Eliot’s hand, letting the cold invade in on the only warm part of Eliot’s body, to reach up and grab his light purple and green and yellow cone. “It’s pretty,” He whispers.

“Eliot likes to take his ice cream to a specific area to eat it,” Jamie says as Eliot reaches up for his own cone, which also has the faint purple mixed in with it, and, he brings it up to his face, the faint aroma of lilac. His eyes flash across the counter to Jamie who just grins back at him. “I wouldn’t worry though,” He adds, as he slowly turns his attention back on Quentin, “It won’t melt.” Eliot follows his gaze, and takes note of the faint reds mixed in with Quentin’s ice cream.

Jesus Christ, he looks up towards the ceiling, Jamie fucking merged their essences.

He knows it’s possible, couples do it for their weddings or parties or whatever romantic bullshit they’re shoving down each others throats all the time. But he’s never really had the desire, or the need, to do it himself. Or anyone he actually wanted to experience in whole. Part of him wants to knock the ice cream out of Quentin’s hand, but the other part of him, the part of him that is stupid and that Margo rightfully kicked off the Ibiza trip, wants to experience this.

Because it’s not like Eliot’s ever going to fall in love, or have somebody fall in love with him. So, why not have this experience with Quentin?

It’ll make seducing him all the easier, anyways.

Quentin moves the cone to his left hand and reaches down for Eliot’s hand again, grabbing it and wrapping his fingers around it. Eliot looks down, wide eyed, forcing himself not to smile as he looks back up and reaches into his pocket to pull out his wallet. “Don’t worry about it, first is free,” Jamie says, waving him off. “You’d better head out, you don’t want it to melt, anyways.”

Okay, so maybe Jamie isn’t so bad when Eliot’s sober, after all.

Eliot nods at him, “Thanks,” He murmurs, as he turns towards the door, pulling Quentin, who’s busy staring at the ice cream, mesmerized, along behind him. They walk down the street in silence for a few moments, hand in hand, while snow falls quietly around them. It’s almost romantic. He looks down at Quentin, who is still staring at the cone, and realizes maybe it’s just him who thinks it. “We’re almost there,” He says. “Hold off for just a little but longer.”

Quentin looks up at him, and his hair is all disheveled, and coated in snow, so Eliot reaches up with their entangled hands and wipes some of it away. Quentin watches with a small smile before looking back down at his feet as they walk. “Where are we going?”

“There’s this bench in this private park,” It’s actually a magical park that regular people can’t see, but as long as Quentin is holding his hand, they’ll be able to get in with relative ease, and without him freaking out if Eliot suddenly vanishes. “I like to eat my ice cream there.”

“In the snow.”

Eliot chuckles with a nod, “Yes, Quentin. In the snow. You’ll understand when we get there.”

“I’m not sure I believe you, but I trust you, so,” He waves at the ground in front of them, “Lead the way.”

“You trust me?”

“Yes,” And when he looks up at Eliot, it’s fucking blazing behind his eyes.

Eliot takes a deep breath, forces out a laugh, because Quentin’s survival instincts are on par with a cat that likes to break into dog pounds with cages that have shoddy locks. Which is to say, god awful. “I’m not sure I’ve earned that,” He says as they cross the threshold of the park, “But thank you.”

Quentin opens his mouth like he wants to respond, but his eyes go wide as he turns to take in the park. It’s definitely a winter wonderland, to say the least. The trees are bare of anything but snow and squirrels, and the grass is hidden beneath piles and piles of soft, fresh snow. The sun casts down on them, providing a little warmth that isn’t found on the New York streets this time of year - just enough to let the shivers from the ice fade, and a dull comfort build and flush over their bodies. Birds fly overhead, chirping freely as they crash through the snow in one of the trees. He looks back at Eliot, “What -,”

“It’s my favorite park,” Eliot murmurs, moving forward and pulling him towards the center of the park, where there’s a frozen lake with a small bridge built over top it. Beneath the clear ice of the lake, they can see orange fish swimming around as if the ice weren’t even there. He hears Quentin’s breath rush out of him with a soft gasp as the hand his ice cream cone is in, points at the fish. “Come on,” Eliot laughs, pulling him past the pond. “We can look after we eat our ice cream.”

“How have I never been here?”

“It’s a private park. Not many people know about it.”

And it’s true. Margo had stolen the coordinates for it from one of the professors offices, after she’d overheard them talking about it. She and Eliot have made a fair amount of use of the park, though they’ve only ever seen other people here once or twice. It’s kind of become their Place.

And now it’s Quentin’s, too.

But it’s not a big deal.

“It’s beautiful.”

Eliot smiles as they stop in front of a bench just a little ways off from the pond. “I know,” He says, sitting down and nearly yanking Quentin down with him in the process. They need to be sitting for this part. “You can eat it now.” He nods at the ice cream, “Careful not to eat too fast.”

Quentin looks at him through his eyelashes, and Eliot would be a liar if he didn’t admit that he looks spectacularly pretty in the parks light. It’s different than in New York. They’re still there, of course, but there’s no pollution, the air is pure and clear, like snow which is why it’s winter year round, here, and no man made things work. It’s a world of complete purity. And somehow, it illuminates Quentin more than the New York streetlights do.

Then it could just be that Quentin is a very pretty man, and snow makes everyone prettier.

Eliot lets his attention shift to his own ice cream cone as he leans down and licks into it. He knows Quentin’s done the same, because the soft gasp, and billowing warm air that explodes around them is enough to make it painfully obvious. Usually, the cones don’t have too much of an effect on the person eating them. It’s your own personal flavor, designed specifically for you. It’s meant to be so delicious that each bite is a bit of heaven on the tongue. Though, if anybody else were to try it, it’d taste bland, and at the most, like vanilla. They add essence to individualize the experience, and to bring magic to food that is already magical on it’s own.

But when they blend essences, it’s different. Because that bit of heaven is mixed in with another persons heaven. It is magical, in a way. Because the feeling that floats through you is the same feeling the person you’re mixing with. So when Eliot swallows his first lick, and feels this sense of wonder, and beauty envelope him, he, too, gasps in and exhales every bit of negativity he has in him. The park develops a purple tint around the edges of Eliot’s vision, and he turns to look at Quentin, who’s somehow already staring at him with wide, shocked eyes. Eliot smells lilac all around them.

“It smells like rain,” Quentin whispers, even as he eats some more of the ice cream. “How does it smell like rain?”

“You’re imagining things,” Eliot whispers, squeezing his hand as he leans back on the bench, letting his head fall back to look up at the cloudy sky. “Relax and eat your ice cream.”

They sit there for a few minutes, quietly eating. Quentin also leans back against the bench, which never gets uncomfortable - thanks to a spell Margo cast on it a year ago, and stares up at the sky with him. At some point they both finish, but neither of them move. Even as the snow falls faster, lightly coating their faces, and changes color around them. It doesn’t actually change color, it’s the ice cream. Quentin’s essence. He imagines the snow is turning red for Quentin, so he turns his head, and nearly smacks his nose on Quentin’s jaw, because he’s already watching him, smiling softly. Eliot smiles, too, moving his hand around until their fingers lace through one another’s. There’s an ease he doesn’t feel too often at the back of his mind, moving forwards as it rushes in and all around them.

He reaches up and brushes some snow out of Quentin’s purple hair. “Well?” He asks.

Quentin closes his eyes and inhales deeply. “It’s the middle of winter, but it smells like the first rain of the year,” He whispers, slowly opening his eyes again, “And a bit like cigarettes and  . . . and,” He pauses, licking his lips as he looks into Eliot’s eyes, “Like your cologne?”

“I am sitting right next to you,” Eliot murmurs, “So that’d made sense.”

Quentin pushes his shoulder against Eliot’s with a glare that holds no heat, and lets his eyes look above them. “It - the snow is green,” He says, “Foresty.”

Green? Eliot’s essence should be red.

“Green? You sure you’re not imagining that?”

Quentin nods. “It’s calming. Not too obvious, it’s like - like, light?” His eyes dart back to Eliot, “You can’t see it, but you can. It’s just - there. Far away but it’s almost like you can touch it.” His eyelids flutter closed, “It’s soft.” His lips curl upwards, and he shuffles closer to Eliot, “I don’t feel anything but I feel everything,” His eyes open, and Eliot’s senses are invaded by soft brown. Even the purple in the snow is shifting, turning gold all around him. “But it’s good.”

“Magical,” Eliot says without meaning to.

Quentin nods again, just once, before turning his head up towards the sky again. “Is - did you drug me?” He asks after a moment, but he doesn’t sound accusative or angry. “I mean, it’s okay if you did. Because this - I’ve never felt so - so . . .” He trails off, eyebrows furrowing.

Eliot squeezes his hand. “Peaceful?” He offers.

“Yeah, peaceful.” He turns his head back towards Eliot. “Did you drug me?”

Eliot laughs softly, pulling him even closer, “No, Q,” He says inhaling as he closes his eyes, “I didn’t drug you. It’s just eating ice cream in the snow. It’s -,”

“Magical.”

He doesn’t respond for a few long moments, until he opens his eyes and finds Quentin still carefully watching him, like he’s something he can’t quite figure out. “Yeah.” He breathes, because the gold is swarming in and around Quentin, illuminating him, dancing across his skin like his aura has come to life.

Fuck, there’s no wonder this shit is used for weddings.

Essence ice cream is never this intense. Never this life altering. Or world shattering. Not by itself, at least. God, Eliot can’t recall a moment in his life where he’s felt more at ease than here, on this bench with this man. He doesn’t want it to end, but it’s bound to, because it’s not a long lasting magic. It can’t be. If it were, it’d be endlessly addicting. And Eliot would do everything in his power to keep from losing the golden glow of essence mixing.

He doesn’t realize they’ve been staring at each other for a while until Quentin’s face is moving closer towards his. Eliot clears his throat, sitting up abruptly and moving away from him. He falls forward, eyes widening as he snaps his hand away from Eliot’s like he’s been burned. “Ready to see the rest of the park?” Eliot asks, breathless. He doesn’t know what’s come over him, he could have easily leaned in and they’d be kissing right now, and they’d fall into the snow, and Eliot would be fulfilling his promise right this very moment.

But instead, he’s standing up and holding his hand out for Quentin to take it again.

Quentin stares at his hand for a long moment before swallowing and wrapping his fingers around it. “You sure you didn’t drug me?” He asks as Eliot pulls him to his feet.

“Pretty sure,” Eliot replies with an easy laugh that is entirely too forced.