#no WONDER hardison's approach works so well! she just wants someone who will be there! she doesn't need someone to approach her or push her

[transsophiedevereaux]

hardison is such a homemaker... always getting them fully furnished new bases, always getting them ID's and plane tickets. is it any wonder that parker is so attracted to someone who always makes others just that bit more comfortable, who cares so obviously, who will make you a home that you can go to and leave from unconditionally, even if you never had a home like that before.

[fablesrose]

Hiiiii! Your leverage rewrite is giving me Eliot Spencer BRAINROT and I saw your requests were open, so I was wondering if you would be interested in writing something about the reader getting a bit beat up on a job, and falling asleep on Eliot while recovering? I don’t mind if it’s a oneshot, or if you want to put it in the rewrite or something. Thanks regardless, I love your writing so much!

Hi!!! Thank you so much, you can't even believe how much that means to me! I'm glad someone else is in the Eliot brainrot with me! I'm so sorry it took so long to post this, ever since you sent this I have been thinking about it and what I wanted to do with it and I finally got it on paper. Hope you like it!

Stay With Me

Eliot Spencer x Reader Words: 2.4k

As far as jobs went, this one wasn’t too bad. The ultimate goal was to steal some files for our client to prove gross misconduct. They would then go to the press or police, probably both, knowing how these types of jobs usually went. We were approaching the end game when some guards started to catch on. Parker and Hardison needed some more time and everyone else was preoccupied. So, it fell on me to be a distraction.

I quickly made my way through the building, dodging guards along the way until I made it to where Hardison and Parker were holed up, collecting files. 

“What are you doing here?” Hardison asked when he saw me step into the room. “You’re supposed to be keeping the guards away from us!”

“And I’m working on it!” I replied. 

Parker didn’t acknowledge me as she sorted through the physical files that she pulled from a cracked safe. 

“Parker, hand me a file we don’t need,” I asked and she quickly handed one over without looking at me. I grabbed it and turned back to Hardison, “Do you have a spare flash drive that has stuff that isn't important or nothing at all?”

He looked at me with a puzzled expression before pulling one out of his bag, “What are you doing?” 

I pocketed it quickly before answering, “Well the guards are coming to this room, they know something is up. What do you think they’re gonna do when they see someone walking out of the room carrying a file?”

Hardison started to nod along, “they’re gonna go after you and not bother to check the room.”

“Yup!” I called as I approached the door to leave. 

“What about the flash drive?”

I faced him before stepping over the threshold, “If I get caught, give them something to find.” I winked before stepping backwards into the hall. 

Just in time too. As the door latched, a group of three guards stepped around the corner. They made eye contact with me and I froze momentarily. 

“Hey!” One of them yelled at me.

I quickly dashed down the hall in the opposite direction. As I turned a corner, I looked back to see that all of them were hot on my heels and passed the room without a second thought. The one who yelled at me was talking through his radio to the other guards, directing them to my approximate location to try and head me off. It worked alright. Now to test my navigation and escape abilities. 

One thing I was blessed with was a pretty good memory and an interest in architecture. I liked reviewing blueprints and with the help of Parker, I was able to remember the layout of the current building. We were also able to identify interesting weak points and possible escape routes. This wasn’t the time to doubt my memory or my speed, so I just kept running. 

The original guards chasing me had fallen further and further behind, but I could still hear them behind me, so I couldn’t slow down. I turned another corner to find a lone guard running towards me. 

Change of plan. 

He got within a couple of yards when I threw the file I had in my hand in his face. It caused him to stumble just enough for me to get a head start down a different hallway. I finally made it to a stairwell and started making my way down. I had a large enough head start that I had almost thought I had lost them as I approached the bottom. I was proven wrong when a stairwell door above me burst open and sounds of shouting echoed down the stairs. I didn’t wait to see which direction they went before I burst through a door myself into the basement of the building. 

“Y/n,” Eliot said through comms, “Where are you? You still dealing with guards?”

“Yeah,” I panted, continuing to run and navigate the twisting hallways, “I’m doing okay, I’m in the basement heading to the north east corner where there should be-”

I turned yet another corner where the largest man I had ever seen stood barely three feet away.  He was dressed in a guard uniform and had his arm outstretched right in front of me. I couldn’t finish my sentence to Eliot before the guard clotheslined me, landing me flat on my back and knocking the rest of my breath out of my lungs.

I groaned, trying to scramble to my feet. “Where the hell did you come from?” I gasped, trying to catch my breath and run away.

The guard didn’t say anything as he grabbed my arm in a tight grip, pulling me to my feet. 

I wriggled and thrashed, trying to land a blow anywhere I could to break free, but the guard still didn’t budge. “Where do they keep you? In a cage?” I yelled exasperatedly, still not finding any opening. 

The guard didn’t seem to like the insinuation and with a grunt threw me against the wall. My shoulder and hip hit first, but it didn’t completely stop the momentum of my head from hitting the wall. A jolt of pain shot through my whole body before dulling to a throbbing ache. The only thing I could seem to do was curl into a ball, hoping it would make my body feel better. 

It sounded like someone was talking to me through the earpiece, but I couldn’t focus on it or decipher who was saying what. A slight whimper escaped my lips as I tried to raise my head. 

The guard approached me and started to rustle through the pockets of my jacket. He stuck his hand into the pocket where the dud flash drive was and I mustered all the strength I could into my less injured arm and launched it at his face. I wasn’t entirely sure what I was going for, a punch, slap, or scratch his eyes out, but I made forceful contact and I did feel my nails catch skin. 

The guard stumbled back, holding his face and swore loudly, the first word I had heard him utter. 

“He speaks,” I said with a pained chuckle from the floor. 

That comment also wasn’t appreciated as the guard gave me a swift kick to the gut. I simply gasped, not being able to muster up a sound to voice the pain. I wasn’t even sure if I could breathe anymore. My eyes screwed shut and I rested my head against the floor, not wanting to muster the strength to hold it up anymore. I was expecting the guard to come back and start searching me again, or even some more pain, but it didn’t come. 

I pried one eye open to see Eliot standing a few paces down the hall.

“Don’t touch her!” He growled, taking calculated steps towards the guard. 

The guard grunted, “Make me. I’ll snap you like a twig, too.”

I saw Eliot’s lips twitch into a smile before taking a fighting stance. The fight didn’t last long once the guard made the first move. He did get a couple hits on Eliot, but not enough to slow him down and knock him out. The guard hit the ground with a large thud that I could have sworn shook the ground. 

During the fight, I was able to maneuver myself into a sitting position against the wall. I started to try and use it to stand up when Eliot quickly approached me and gently helped me to my feet. He pulled my arm over his shoulder and wrapped his arm around my waist, carrying most of my weight as we walked down the hallway. 

“Where are the rest of the guards? Do we have to hurry out of here?” I asked slowly, trying to keep the ache out of my voice and calculate how to get out. I couldn’t use my previous route with how injured and sluggish I was now. 

“On a wild goose chase,” Eliot replied, not hesitating in his steps back toward the stairwell. 

“I’m not the goose, am I?” I asked humorously, but trying to keep laughing to a minimum. I had a feeling it would hurt if I tried.

Eliot chucked though. “No, I got them out of the picture so we can get out of here.”

My mind started running in circles trying to decide what he did, but eventually I half whispered to myself, “you know what? I don’t even want to know.”

When we got to the stairs I sighed heavily, anticipating how much effort it would take to climb them. 

Eliot looked at me and could see the dread in my face. “Here, sweetheart, I’ve gotcha.” He bent down and lifted my feet, putting me in a bridal carry and started up the stairs. 

“You don’t have to do that Eliot, don’t tire yourself out for no reason,” I said, but rested my head on his shoulder, feeling oh so tired. 

“I can carry you one flight of stairs, sweetheart, don’t worry about it.”

Another sigh escaped my lips involuntarily, “I’m so tired. I want to take a nap.”

Eliot purposefully jostled me a little bit, “Stay with me, sweetheart. Don’t fall asleep before I get you out of here and see if you have a concussion. It sounded like you hit that wall pretty hard.”

I groaned just remembering that initial pain, “Don’t remind me.”

When we reached the ground floor Eliot gently placed me back on my feet to seem a bit less conspicuous when walking through the building. This floor had a lot of offices and employees milling around. When I was distracting the guards I considered it a hazard, they could have slowed me down trying to not run into them. Now as we carefully walked through, Eliot still supporting much of my weight, the employees provided a bit of cover until we reached a side door to exit into the parking lot and the van. 

Eliot loaded me into the back and sat in front of me as Nate drove off, leaving the company and its guards far behind us. Eliot took a flashlight from Hardison and shined it in my eyes. 

“Your pupils look okay, responding well to light and are the same size,” he said almost distractedly as if talking to himself even though he was addressing me. 

 I simply blinked slowly and watched him think for a moment before he turned back towards me. 

“I’m gonna ask you some questions to test your memory, okay?”

“Okay.”

“What’s your name and birthday?”

I recited it quickly in the same pattern I always did when asked.

“Good,” he praised, “now what building were we just in?”

“Jackass Incorporated,” I replied. I paused before adding on sarcastically, “Oh sorry, I meant Jackson Inc.”

I finally got Eliot to crack a smile, “Glad to hear another confirmation that your sense of humor is intact. Last thing, say the months of the year in reverse order.”

This question took a little more time as I paused every few months to think, making sure I was right. When I finally landed on January I asked, “How’d I do doc?”

His eyebrows furrowed and his nose scrunched slightly, “I’m still nervous that you got a concussion.”

I sighed, “So no nap?”

He smiled grimly, “Not yet.”

The over hour drive home was relatively quiet, but the team kept me awake by talking to me. We finally made it back to Nate’s apartment. Normally we would be celebrating afterwards, but all I wanted to do was go home, and voiced as such. Eliot left no room for argument when he said he would drive me home, still not convinced of my cognitive capabilities. Frankly, I didn’t even want to argue with him, both because it was no use, and I didn’t mind the free ride home. 

He kept talking to me when driving, making sure I stayed awake. We finally pulled up to my place and Eliot insisted that he walk me in. Again, I didn’t put up a fight. 

“Do you have any other injuries that we need to take care of?” he asked once the door closed behind us. 

“It took you this long to ask?” 

He gave me a small glare, “I figured you would have told me if anything hurt more than you could handle, but I’m just double checking.”

I smiled, showing I was kidding, “Uh huh, sure. But no, nothing feels broken, everything seems to be in working order. If anything, mostly bruises.” I patted myself down gently, finding some tender spots, particularly around my ribs where the guard kicked me. Then remembered where my head hit the wall, “Hey Eliot, would you mind checking my scalp? I don’t think I broke skin, but…”

He nodded wordlessly and pulled me towards the couch and sat me down. He sat beside me so I turned away from him so he could see the place where my head hit the wall. He gently started to comb his fingers through my hair. His fingers immediately brushed against the spot where I hit and I flinched.

“Sorry, sweetheart. I don’t feel a cut though,” he whispered to me. Even after checking the area, he continued to card my hair through his fingers. 

It felt even better than I expected and a sigh escaped my lips. My head tilted back as his fingertips explored my scalp beyond the sore spot. My eyes drifted closed and that urge to sleep washed over me again. 

“Can I fall asleep now?” I mumbled, mostly to myself. 

Eliot sighed and stopped his movements, “Yeah, I’ve kept you up for a couple of hours now, you should be okay. I should go and let you sleep.” He started to remove his hand and shifted to stand. 

I turned back around to face him and grabbed his hand, “Stay with me? I hear I’m supposed to be monitored for at least twelve hours for a possible concussion…” My eyes were fixed on our hands being clasped, but I eventually lifted my gaze to his own to find that he was transfixed on me. 

His lips curled into a smile as he shifted, leaning back into the couch, “Yeah, I think I can do that sweetheart.” He gently grabbed my shoulders and pulled me down to lay on his lap. He resumed running his fingers through my hair and across my scalp. 

I grabbed his unoccupied hand and held it to my chest, occasionally squeezing it in gratitude. It didn’t take long for the sounds of our consistent breathing to drift me off to sleep.

[pale-silver-comb]

So I know absolutely nothing about Leverage except what I've been seeing you post lately and I have to admit you're making it look tempting to watch! Can I ask what are some of your favorite things about the show/reasons you would suggest people watch it? And is there really a poly relationship that is canon?

Okay. Okay, okay, okay, okay, okay. I am going to do my best not to just “asdfghkjl” at you and answer coherently.

In a nutshell, Leverage is about 5 people. 4 are criminals (Parker, Hardison, Eliot and Sophie) with different and unique skill-sets and 1 is an ex-insurance investigator (Nate) who, at one point or another in his career, has tracked down (or at least attempted to) the other 4. The whole show is essentially: man reluctantly reforms 4 criminals to use their criminal powers for good and 4 criminals move into man’s life and stubbornly refuse to leave because, goddammit, now they have morals. 

I’ve got a lot of favourite things about the show but the main ones are as follows:

1. Found family. And I’m not talking about loners who come together to fight crime and happen to co-exist to the point where they realise they happen to have found themselves a family. I mean, Nate and Sophie are the Drunk Uncle and Wine Aunt who somehow become Mom and Dad to 3 beautiful criminal children. Mom and Dad love their criminal babies and the kids love them (as well as each other, but we’ll come to that in a moment). You get amazing family moments such as: Mom and Dad packing the kids lunch before sending them out to kick corporate greed’s ass; Mom and Dad giving the kids ridiculously expensive and personal Christmas presents causing their most Grumpy Kid to go very very quiet and soft as he runs off to gleefully play with his new murder toy; the kids interrupting Mom and Dad’s big Movie Style Kiss to ask if they can please keep their new underground layer and huffing and puffing when Dad tells them no.

2. Found family: the OT3 edition. To answer your question, the OT3 is indeed canon, confirmed by the creator. Now, usually, “confirmed by the creator” infuriates me because most of the time it’s a way for a creator to be seen as “progressive” without doing anything to actually be progressive. That isn’t the case here. The OT3 are built up carefully and while it is obvious the creators didn’t originally intend for all 3 of them to become a relationship in the romantic sense, by mid-season 5 we are given a very clear picture of where Parker, Hardison and Eliot are heading in their relationship. There aren’t any kisses at the end to signal this but there are solid marriage vows in not only one but two episodes. (And by marriage vows I mean literal equivalents of marriage vows: “for better or worse” and “’til death do us part”. I’m not even exaggerating). The OT3 also doesn’t need explicit romantic narratives to convey how much they love each other. Their love is laced through the whole show, from the way they teach each other things to the way they respond to each other and work as a unit. The way they fiercely protect and admire each other. Like someone once said, if you need characters to kiss or say I love you to let the audience know they love each other, you are writing them wrong. 

Aside from that, each of the parings in the OT3 are just. Gah. They are so well done, with friendship being the solid basis for them all. The creators never expect the audience to assume anything about them or fill in the gaps. They give us their relationships on screen and reference many things off-screen to show us how these relationships continue to build in between episodes.

Hardison and Parker are a canon couple and date in the show: it’s approached slowly and they are so goddamned sweet. They are basically every fluffy slow-burn trope with a healthy dash of mutual pining in the mix. They are basically that quote “love is patient, love is kind”. (I would like to add their romance never becomes the focus of the show or overrides the importance of any other relationship they have with the other characters, especially Eliot.)

Hardison and Eliot are the Old Married Couple and from day one are already bickering and looking at each other/making comments that are found in every UST fic ever (not to mention Hardison has a very good knack for making Eliot grin like a little kid, when usually he’s basically an Angry Little Chef Man). They argue, they play, and love each other plain as day. 

Parker and Eliot are more subtle but every bit as wonderful. They have an unspoken connection and understand each other on a level no-one else can. Parker and Eliot are not good with giving themselves over to affection for different reasons (and Hardison plays a central role in helping them realise it’s okay to want it and have it- that boy has endless patience) but there is something so beautiful in the way the two of them come together on their own and develop their own special bond that works for them. Parker and Eliot are that trope where the characters don’t need to speak to understand each other perfectly. They just do. Their love language is a lot of the time non-verbal but speaks volumes. (Parker also likes to annoy the hell out of Eliot and Eliot....just.....lets...her. Because he’s soft. The softest, grumpiest boy.) 

I could go into so much depth for each pairing and their dynamics as a 3 but that's for another post.

3. Subverting stereotypes. There is the occasional hiccup in the show regarding stereotypes but ultimately, Leverage gets an A+ when it comes to writing characters and making them 3 dimensional people who are not defined by certain characteristics or events. Nate could so easily fall into the White Man Pain trope where he uses the trauma of losing his kid as a reason as to why he is entitled to act like a dick. Nate is a dick but he doesn’t use his pain to excuse it and I appreciate that. Hardison is a black man who is soft and nurturing. Easily the most empathetic and patient of the group. He’s nerdy, an actual genius, and has the biggest heart of all the characters. Nate is maybe the glue but Hardison is definitely the heart. Media’s usual aggressive, amongst other, racist stereotypes can fuck right off. Parker is canonically autistic (I am sure this was confirmed by one of the creators) and she is not defined by it. It’s not written as some kind of singular personality trait. It’s part of what makes up Parker but it’s only one facet of who she is and not once is her actions, thoughts or feelings treated like a joke. Sometimes people don’t understand why she does and says the things she does but it’s met with patience and fondness over the course of the show. Equally, it’s not met with over-caution. Parker is just Parker. No-one tries to change her. The other nice thing is Hardison, who always makes sure Parker knows she’s amazing because of who she is and not in spite of it. Finally, Sophie is in her 40s. She’s not treated like she’s past her prime. Ever. She’s sexy, smart and never is she pitted against or compared to Parker (who is younger) for anything. Sophie is amazing and there’s never even a conversation of “I may be older but I am still *insert adjective typically associated with younger women here*”. Sophie is possibly the first female character I’ve ever seen who isn’t just unapologetic about her age but has never had to apologise for her age. It’s a non-issue and that’s that. The women on the show are written so well, right down to secondary characters and it’s beyond refreshing.  

4.) It’s just fun. The show has a “monster of the week” type format. Except instead of a ghoul or a ghost, the monster is some corrupt wealthy and powerful individual or organisation. The show draws on real-life individuals to do this and therefore closely parallels real-life people and events. It addresses important political, economical, social and environmental issues while at the same time remaining fun and light-hearted. The characters constantly get the chance to play dress up and by GOD do they have fun with it. You get to watch Eliot beat up bad guys in the most delightful of ways, usually after a witty non-sequitur and with a weapon you’d never think could be a weapon. The dialogue and back and forth between the characters is everything. And finally - my favourite thing- the team can never resist striking a dramatic pose after they’ve taken down the bad guy, making sure the bad guy sees them. I mean, they COULD just walk away, satisfied they’ve taken the person down, but nope. They gotta be dramatic bitches 24/7 and pose like they are models for every single month of this year’s Criminal Calendar.  

5.) Competence Porn. So. Much. Competence Porn.  

Honestly, I could list a thousand reasons for why Leverage is amazing but to list them would to be spoiling so many amazing moments you’d get to discover for the first time on your own if you do choose to watch it. It’s the kind of show you can watch with an eagle-eye and sink your teeth into. But it’s also the kind of show if, you would prefer, put on in the background for something entertaining while you do something else. Each episode is about the job at hand but it’s made up of so many moments between the characters that show how much the creators and writers care about them. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll do whatever it is you do when something Soft and Wonderful happens that makes your heart melt. I am so beyond grateful for Leverage. It’s everything I always wanted in a show. Nearly every show I’ve watched in the past 10 years has disappointed me in some way, usually either because the writers run out of steam or characters who I love are treated poorly or given some kind of unnecessary “shock value” arc. Leverage doesn’t do that. Leverage is what it says on the bottle. Fandom isn’t something I joined because I needed canon fix-its. Fandom only enhances and celebrates an already excellent canon. 

[trekscribbles]

Triple Threat: A Stone Triplets Fic (Chapter 2)

Fandoms: Leverage/Leverage Redemption, Librarians, and Almost Paradise

Cross-Posted: Ao3 and FF

Summary: Eliot and Jake are both in the Philippines for separate jobs that turn out to be related. Kai takes the existence of Alex's brothers as a personal attack on her mental health. Ernesto happily goes along for the ride.

Read Chapter 1 here.

Chapter 2: Double Trouble

The last time Eliot saw Alex was when they were 16 years old. Alex had been living with Uncle Danny for 6 years at that point, so the brothers didn't have much of a relationship even then, and the reunion had been awkward and tense. Jake was the one who tried to keep them together, who talked their father into hosting Christmas that year. He was the one who'd called Alex and begged him to come home for a week. Just a week.

They'd lasted three days.

At the time Eliot had blamed Alex—immature, bull-headed Alex, whose verbal and then physical fights with their father had led to his living with Uncle Danny in the first place. If he could have just learned to keep his mouth shut, most of the fights wouldn't have happened. Eliot and Jake had learned that lesson—why couldn't Alex? He always had to have the last word, no matter what the cost.

That last visit was what finally convinced Eliot to leave home. He thought about college, but eventually decided to enlist as soon as he turned 18 (without telling their father). Jake was supposed to go with him, but he'd wanted to see Alex one more time before they left. When months went by and Alex didn't come back, Eliot left both his brothers behind.

Age had given Eliot perspective, but by the time he was ready to apologize, Jake wouldn't take his calls. Alex had already joined the DEA, and a series of undercover assignments for both of them made it impossible for Eliot to reach out. And then he got involved with Moreau, and getting in touch was no longer an option. It would have put them in too much danger, and that was one thing Eliot would never do. But after a while, even that became an excuse. After he escaped Moreau, after Nate created a team and a family for him, he let the silence continue. He'd made that choice on his own.

And now apparently Alex was in the Philippines. Permanently, according to the detective who introduced herself as Kai Mendoza. That was all she would tell him (through gritted teeth, as though Eliot had committed some unforgivable sin by asking). "We have to take care of this mess," she'd grumbled. "Then we'll take you to see Alex."

She hadn't asked if Eliot wanted to see Alex, and part of him was glad for that. If he'd been given the option, he wasn't sure he'd have said yes. It would have been easy to say that he was too busy, that he couldn't stay, that it was better for them not to meet. But now that the offer was there, Eliot couldn't turn it down. One way or another, he was going to see his brother today.

Kai and her partner Ernesto drove him and the two men they'd arrested to the police station, where Eliot was firmly told to stay in the car. Kai paused after giving the order as if waiting for him to argue, even after he nodded and promised to stay put. Apparently Alex hadn't changed much since they were kids.

While the others were inside, Eliot took a few minutes to call Hardison and update him on the job. It was just the two of them on this one, with Hardison pulling the strings from somewhere in Vietnam while Eliot worked on the ground in Cebu.

Hardison picked up on the first ring. "All done? I booked you a flight back to New Orleans on—"

"I ran into a little snag," Eliot interrupted.

"What kind of snag?"

Eliot explained most of his encounter with Kai and Ernesto, but he couldn't bring himself to include the fact that he'd been mistaken for one of his long-lost triplet brothers. Hardison knew he had siblings, but Eliot hadn't ever gone into details about them. He wasn't sure what he'd say now, and he knew Hardison would have questions. Best to leave it be. He'd give Hardison a more in-depth explanation later.

"So now what?" Hardison asked.

"Now we wait and see if they can salvage the sting. If they arrest Flores, our work is done."

"And if they don't?"

"I'll let you know."

There was a pause, as if Hardison was trying to decide whether or not to voice his next thought. "Is there something else?"

Eliot sighed. He tried not to lie to Hardison or Parker, but he didn't want to have this conversation now. "Not about the job," he answered. "I'll explain later."

To his credit, Hardison didn't argue, even though he had to be burning with curiosity. "Okay. Call back when you have more to share."

"Yeah."

It was another twenty minutes before Kai and Ernesto emerged from the police station, both wearing grim expressions. They were talking as they approached the car, and Eliot caught the tail end of their conversation through the open windows.

"I didn't want to bring him in on this," Kai was saying.

Ernesto shrugged. "We don't really have a choice anymore."

"Things get messy when his family is involved. It'll only complicate things."

Interesting. Which of his relatives had already come to the island? Evidently Eliot's family had a knack for disrupting the locals.

"Ocampo's orders," Ernesto said. He opened the passenger door and slid into the car, turning to look over his shoulder at Eliot. "We'll take you to see Alex, but you're going to have to come back to the station and explain what you were doing with Flores."

Eliot crossed his arms. "Figured you'd want to know that first."

"We do," Kai said, with a frown at her partner. "You owe the delay to Alex. He's helped us out in the past, and Ernesto thinks we should tell him you're here before he finds out from someone else."

"The surprise could kill him," Ernesto said mildly.

"You just want to see his face when we show up with his doppelganger."

"Don't you?" Ernesto asked. Kai huffed and dropped into the driver's seat.

They lapsed into silence during the drive, which Eliot appreciated. His stomach had begun an uneasy churn, though he told himself it was just because of the heat. There was nothing to be nervous about. Sure Eliot hadn't reached out, but neither had Alex. Neither had Jake, for that matter. Eliot had gone home once, just after he got out of the service, and found Jake had taken over the oil company. Their neighbors said that Jake was turning things around, digging out of debt and even managing a profit, and Eliot accepted the blessing and drove out of town without stopping by the house. It was enough that Jake was happy. He didn't need Eliot coming back and ruining things for him.

Kai pulled into the parking lot of another hotel, dodging groups of brightly dressed tourists as she went. "He owns the gift shop here at the resort," Ernesto explained, flashing a friendly smile over his shoulder. Kai didn't look at him as she got out of the car, but Eliot was happy to keep his silence. He trailed behind her as she led the way through the resort, winding around pools and umbrella-covered tables, slowing every few moments so Ernesto could greet someone. Apparently the friendliness wasn't an act—or else it was a very good one. But something about the man felt genuine, as if he couldn't be bothered to put up a front.

Kai, on the other hand... she was harder to read. Especially now that she wasn't giving Eliot anything to work with except the occasional glare.

Before long the bustle of the resort faded as concrete transitioned to sand beneath their feet. A small building rose ahead of them, still against the backdrop of gentle waves and lazy clouds. A soft breeze ruffled Eliot's hair, filling his lungs with salt and sunshine. He wanted to stop, to look out at the water and breathe in the sea spray and the silence, but the others kept walking.

No wonder Alex had picked this spot. If retirement was in Eliot's future, he could see himself in a place like this.

Ernesto reached the door, and Eliot took one last windswept breath to brace himself.

"You look nervous," Kai murmured.

No he didn't. He knew he didn't, because the only emotions he gave away were the ones he wanted people to see. And he was most definitely not nervous. But her eyes lingered on his, and something softened in her expression.

"Don't worry," she said, giving him a small, hesitant smile. "It'll be fine."

"Alex," Ernesto called, and Eliot's stomach gave another roll. This was a mistake. He shouldn't have come. He tried to back away, but Kai put her hand on his arm and cut off his retreat, guiding him inside.

The gift shop was empty besides one man restocking a rack of post cards. He stood with his back to them, but it was impossible to mistake him for anyone else. He had the same build as Eliot, the same brown hair he'd have to fight to keep straight in this humidity, the same scarred hands from years of work and fighting.

"Hey!" Alex said without turning around. "Check it out, I got new cards."

Ernesto started across the room, gesturing for Eliot to follow. "How come you didn't tell us you had a twin?"

Alex looked at him. "A twin? I don't have a tw—"

His eyes fell on Eliot, and his words died. Eliot could feel Kai watching them, waiting for a reaction, but he couldn't think of anything to say. Hey, how've you been the last 30 years? Oh, me? Well, first I was an international assassin, and now I work with a group of thieves who steal from the rich and give to the poor. I still punch people for a living though. How about you?

Something started beeping. Eliot started—no, not started, just looked around for the source—but Alex slapped his hand to his wrist and the sound stopped.

"Everything okay?" Ernesto asked. Alex made a noncommittal sound, glancing at him before returning his attention to Eliot. His eyes seemed bluer than Eliot remembered. It was probably just the lighting, but since it was the only thought that didn't spiral out of control, it was the one Eliot clung to. Blue eyes like their mother's, like the pond water in the back yard. Blue eyes that had been red with anger and hurt the last time he'd seen them.

"Which one are you?" Alex asked.

Behind him, Kai made a choking sound. Ernesto shushed her.

"But—" she sputtered. "Are there more of them?"

Eliot refocused on his brother. "You don't recognize me?"

"You both look the same," Alex deadpanned.

"Well, we're in the Philippines and I'm speaking English."

For a long moment Alex simply stared at him as if trying to read the details of their separation in his face. Then he reached out, and Eliot braced himself for the punch. He wouldn't fight back—not at first, not unless things got out of hand. He could take a hit or two, let Alex burn off some of his anger, and then try talking. They weren't 16 anymore. They could handle this like adults.

But Alex didn't hit him. His arms flashed out past Eliot's head, wrapping around his shoulders, pulling him tight. "Eliot," he murmured, crushing him in a hug that drove the breath from Eliot's lungs. He didn't care. He grabbed two fistfuls of Alex's shirt and squeezed, pressing everything he couldn't voice into the embrace.

"It's good to see you," Alex said at last, gruffly. He pulled away without taking his hands from Eliot's shoulders. "What are you doing here?"

"Uh... work."

Alex frowned at the hesitation. "What kind of work?"

Eliot sent a look over his shoulder, where Kai and Ernesto still waited. They clearly had some kind of relationship with Alex, but how far did that extend? Likely not far enough to keep from arresting Eliot for the half-dozen laws he'd broken to secure his meeting with Flores. "I'll tell you later."

"Now's as good a time as any," Kai said. "You can tell us now or at the station, whichever you prefer."

"We can give them a little longer," Ernesto argued.

"Flores is still out there. The longer we wait, the more time he has to act."

"Who's Flores?" Alex asked. He let his hands slide from Eliot's shoulders, a frown settling over his face.

Kai gave him a pointed look. "I'll tell you later."

"I think you should tell me now."

"I don't care what—"

Ernesto held his hands up, putting himself between the two of them. "Kai, we can give them a few more minutes to catch up. We'll be outside, Alex. Ten minutes." He looked at Eliot. "Then you come to the station with us. Understand?"

"Fine," Alex said. "Ten minutes. I got it."

Though Kai looked like she wanted to argue, she allowed Ernesto to guide her toward the door. "Nice friends you've got," Eliot muttered.

He'd meant it as a joke, but Alex gave a serious nod. "Yeah. They are. They're closer than some of my family."

Apparently they were going to fight after all. "I didn't know how to contact you," Eliot said.

"You're smart. You couldn't figure something out?"

"Couldn't you?" Eliot countered. "The last I heard you were undercover. Reaching out would have put you in danger."

"I'm retired now," Alex said.

"So I hear."

Alex crossed his arms over his chest. "I did try to find you. There was a rumor going around that you'd died."

"I didn't. Well, I did once, but it didn't stick."

"How long ago was that?"

"While you were still undercover."

Alex gave a frustrated growl. "Fine. We both could have done more, alright? Just... fill me in on the case."

The case was a safe topic, so Eliot embraced the change without complaint. He gave his brother the basics as he knew them: Robert Flores was looking to set up a base to smuggle drugs to the United States. Hardison had been tracking him throughout Asia, but when business kept him in Vietnam he'd contacted Eliot about finishing the job. "Should have been simple enough," Eliot said. "Set up a meeting, figure out his weakness, take him down."

"But you weren't the only one after him," Alex said. He heaved a sigh. "How mad was Kai when you showed up?"

An involuntary smile pulled at Eliot's lips. "She thought I was you. I think she wanted to kill me more than Flores's men did."

Alex chuckled, sobering a moment later. "So this is what you do? You go after international criminals?"

"More or less."

"With who? I mean—CIA? Interpol?"

"It's kind of a freelance operation."

Alex shook his head. "That doesn't make any sense."

"It's a lot to explain," Eliot said. "And I will, I promise. Soon as we have the time."

"Right." Alex gave him another long look, and a small grin appeared on his face. "It's good to see you, man. It's been too long."

Eliot didn't try to stop his answering grin. "You go by Walker now?"

"You'd already taken Mom's name. Didn't leave me with much of a choice."

"Yeah, but... Walker? As in Texas Ranger?"

Alex hissed and shot a look toward the door. "Don't say it out loud, man. I've got a reputation to keep up here."

Eliot laughed, but Ernesto chose that moment to knock and peek into the gift shop, effectively ending the conversation. "You two finished?" he called.

"For now," Alex answered. "Where's Kai?"

"She went to get some coffee. She'll be back any minute."

Alex nodded. "Good. I wanna be back before the afternoon rush."

"You're not coming," Ernesto said. "I don't think Kai can handle two of you."

Eliot folded his arms. "For the record, I'm not Alex's double. If anything he's my double. I'm older."

"By eight minutes," Alex snapped.

"That's older."

Alex huffed a wordless reply, and Eliot felt a glow of something familiar in his chest. This was an argument they'd had hundreds of times—Eliot, being the oldest, started it most often when they were kids. Jake had come next, and then Alex—Baby Alex, they called him, whenever he was being annoying. Eliot was pleased to find the joke still funny.

Even better, Alex seemed to still find it annoying. Eliot couldn't say why that felt so comforting. Maybe it was just that he was thankful to see a glimpse of the old Alex, the one he'd known before they let their father and their pride get in the way of their relationship. Maybe it was the fact that Alex was relaxed enough to have this conversation in front of Ernesto. Maybe Alex had found a team the way Eliot had.

Maybe it was a good thing he'd come here after all.

[pagerunner]

Parker for the meme :D

Sure, just go with the HARDEST why don’t you? :P These are mostly in the order they come to mind, not really in order of importance. Some of them could probably be grouped together, but oh well.

1. Problem solving. Parker likes puzzles. She likes solving everything from security systems to locks to complex algebra. She identifies elements of a problem, and as Nate puts it, rotates them in space until they fit. She tries to solve people in the same way, which sometimes works, and sometimes doesn’t. Sometimes she solves problems incorrectly, or...creatively, because she’s identified all the parts of the problem she can see, but is missing a component. Usually, that’s when she turns to Sophie for help. :) When I’m writing Parker, I try to look at the problem she’s solving and identify what she would consider important, then solve it using those pieces, keeping in mind that they might not be the ONLY pieces to this puzzle.

2. Compartmentalization. (You also asked for Josie, and her working with Josie is a great example of this!) “Tune out the distractions and work the problem.” She is exceptionally good at this, shunting aside distractions (including emotions) that don’t have a bearing on the problem at hand. I think it’s something she’s practiced for so long that it’s a habit by now, and it takes something HUGE (like Hardison being buried alive, or kids in danger) to overcome those automatic compartments. Usually, they work in her favor - she does the crazy stuff she does because she can shift those pesky things like fear and pain to the side and focus on the job at hand. But it does lead to...

3. Difficulty recognizing and articulating emotions. She has so much practice at locking things away, that when she can’t, or needs to use them, she has trouble adapting. I do think she’s somewhere on the autism spectrum, for a whole host of reasons, but in terms of her emotional development, the trauma of her childhood and the lack of structure in her early life - and the lack of people she can trust - play a huge role as well. I relate to Parker a lot in the way she feels things but doesn’t know what she’s feeling, how to deal with it, or what the point of the feelings even is. She has a habit of automatically denying that things affect her, which can be interesting and hard to write from her POV, because they are affecting her, but she won’t consider that an option. For “Protection”, I messed around with this a lot, partially because of the line in Rundown Job: “He takes getting shot very lightly.” Parker assumes she’ll take it lightly too, but it seemed to me that this, like Alec in the coffin, would be a catalyst for her - in ways that she doesn’t fully recognize at first.

4. Joy. All this stuff about emotions, but Parker’s JOY is this amazing thing that eludes compartmentalization. She LOVES stealing, it’s not just a job for her. She literally skips when she steals the dagger in Rashomon, grins hugely when she cracks a safe - she takes such joy in what she does. Also in other things - excessive amounts of sugar, hurting people (not always, but definitely sometimes and not only people she doesn’t like), her love of christmas. She has so much “childlike” glee - though I always hesitate to use that word, because I don’t want to do her the disservice of infantalizing her. But it makes sense that the things she loved as a child, and the way she expressed that love remains much the same - she’s spent so much time alone, that she never needed to adapt to outside societal influences on expression. And honestly, SKIPPING IS SO MUCH FUN. Try it sometime if you haven’t in a while. Her wonder and enthusiasm is weird and contagious, and she fixates on the strangest things that make her happy. But then I was yelling about fractal cauliflowers at the farmer’s marker the other day... Oh! She’s also got that amazingly morbid sense of humor - extremely fatalistic in a lot of ways. It reminds me of my sister, who’s an ER doctor and laughs about the terrible shit she’s seen, and tells a lot of inappropriate jokes - it’s a common coping mechanism in medicine, in the military, in people who’ve seen too much and become inoculated against the day to day bad stuff.

5. She’s learning. Everyone on the crew has a character arc, but Parker’s is one of massive self-discovery and adaptation. She begins as someone very self-absorbed. She’s her own little, functional unit, and it works for her and what she does. Working with a team, learning to trust, learning to navigate both their personalities and the personalities of their clients and marks, is a constant struggle. It’s a huge puzzle for her to solve and as she tackles it and learns, and asks Sophie questions, and tentatively dates Hardison, and plans with Nate, and pokes at Eliot’s own barriers, she begins to put things together. Parker at the beginning of season 1 is so different from Parker at the end of season five, and will be different from Parker after she’s running the crew for a while (as that comes with other responsibilities and concerns). She’s constantly evolving and adapting, but she never loses that core of her that loves kids, steals for fun, is obsessively organized, and always approaching the world like it’s a lock she needs to pick.

[averydistinctiveteam]

Chapter 3

Word Count: 1519

Triggers: None?

A/N: Thank you all for the really nice asks, replies, messages, etc. I really appreciate it. I’m not going to stop the story until I’ve written everyone in, I feel like I owe you that much, and then I’ll decide if I want to continue it or if it’s too stressful or whatever. Again, super sorry about me being weird lol, so here’s chapter 3

“Oh, you have GOT to be kidding me.”

“Look, I’m sorry that it didn’t go as planned, but you still owe all of us the money you said you were going to pay us,” Luke was irritated, sure, and frustrated that he hadn’t gotten the job done, but it wasn’t his fault.

“None of you are getting paid until I get my painting, ok?”

Caro rolled her eyes. “Fine, how the hell do you expect to get it back then? We don’t even know who took it!”

“Oh, you might not, but I certainly do.” His mischievous smile set all of them on edge. He sat back at his computer and typed away for a while before coming back to the rest of his crew.

“This is Leverage Inc. They’ve been smearing the name of thievery since around 2008. Since then they’ve expanded so now they’re all around the country making everyone’s lives miserable. While you two were monkeying around and NOT getting the painting, I was actually being useful. I hacked their databases and they don’t even know it yet. This,” He pulled up a picture of a young woman. She was tall and had long light brown hair. “This is Irene Ellis. Not a pro hacker, wannabe hacktivist, overall nerd. She’s the hacker in the local branch of Leverage. I’ll take care of her, since you clearly can’t,” he addressed Luke who glared at him. “This,” he then pulled up security footage of a short woman hitting a punching bag and a man approaching her. “This is Levada Sinclair. She’s their team’s hitter, and trained until Eliot Spencer, you probably know him. Caro, you might be able to take her, who knows.” Caro cracked her knuckles. Was this punk for real? “This is Moriah, infamous grifter, almost as good as Sophie Devereaux, but not. Definitely better than you, Julie.”

“Ok, hold up,” Julie said cutting him off. “I swear, you say another shitty thing about us and I’m walking out. You can grift your own damn self.” Her arms were crossed and she had a look on her face that meant business. Caro stepped behind her and followed suit. Luke looked at the girls for a second and then scurried over to stand behind them.

“Oh, well isn’t this cute. I’m paying you, remember? Now just do your damn jobs.” Julie didn’t want to give in, but she rolled her eyes and backed down. “Now, I have a plan, but you all need to actually do your jobs well for it to work…”

“Why exactly do I have to climb through the ventilation shaft again?” Luke grumbled into his com.

“Because I didn’t want to and you lost the coin toss,” Caro replied, smirking. Luke huffed and continued climbing until he got to the right room.

“How much time is Julie giving us?” “Not much, like two minutes at most, so hurry up.” Luke took a deep breath and slid the replacement painting off of his back. If this worked, then maybe they’d all get the handsome fee they were owed and he’d never have to see that dirty, lying, cheating…

“Ok, she’s in position, go!” Caro’s words jerked him out of his train of thought so he quickly removed the grating and lowered himself into the room. He located the painting and then switched it out with the fake. “Get out now! Miscalculation! They’re heading back sooner than we expected!” Luke dropped the fake painting about where he thought the real painting had been laying and scrambled back up the shaft and out the back of the building. He handed the painting to Caro and wiped his brow. Caro looked over the painting and nodded.

“We’ll pick Julie back up when she’s done “playing her part”,” Caro said, walking towards the car. “You’re sure the cameras didn’t pick us up?”

“Yeah, I just had them loop the last three hours when nothing was happening,” Luke replied, getting into the passenger side. “And now, it’s time to get paid.” Caro rolled her eyes at her brother and drove off. This team would never know what hit them.

It turned out that they realized very quickly that something had gone wrong.

“That’s not the same painting that you sent me a picture of,” Becca said, “I mean, it’s clearly a forgery, the signature isn’t even in the right place. The person who did this was in a hurry.”

“How the hell did someone steal the real painting? We only left it alone when…” Arlana trailed off and then looked at Nate. They both thought of the same thing at the same time. “She was a grifter.”

“Stay here,” Arlana said to the group before she and Nate bolted out. When they went back outside, there was no woman, no car, and no helpful patron. Arlana quickly turned around and went back inside, zeroing in on the patron they had seen earlier. “Excuse me, sir?” he set his weights down and looked up at her. “We were wondering what happened with the woman you were helping earlier?”

“Oh, once you guys went inside she said she had like a brother or something that was coming to pick her up. She said she didn’t want to bother me and told me to go back inside, so I did.” He shrugged. “Why did something happen to her?” Arlana sighed.

“No, no, you’re fine,” she said, walking off.

“So there’s another crew in town?” Nate said. Arlana gritted her teeth.

“Not for long.”

While they were out, Hardison noticed something off about the company’s system.

“Oh no.” How had he missed this before? Irene took a second look at her computer as well, trying to decipher the drunken hack that had been going on right under their noses. Hardison had to find Nate or Parker. “Guys! Guys, I think I know who hacked us, who stole the painting, the whole 9 yards,” Hardison said, catching up with Nate and Arlana.

“What do you want, Hardison?”

“Colin, you know damn well what we want, now give it back.”

“Oh, Hardison, you’re going to have to try harder than that.” He tsked and then shut down the video feed. “Got the painting?” he asked as Caro and Luke entered the warehouse. Luke held it up high so he could see it. “Yes, the money’ll be wired into your accounts.”

“It better be, nerd,” Caro said, picking up her jacket. “Don’t think you can double cross us and get away with it.” He brushed off the threat and examined his painting. This was a successful job. Maybe he could use one of them in the future.

“Colin Mason, more commonly known as his hacker alias “Chaos.” Trust me, he’s only a little smarter than he seems.”

“And cocky as all hell. If ya see him don’t hesitate to punch him.” Eliot added to Hardison’s briefing. Hardison nodded.

“From what we can tell, he’s using Caro and Luke Grayback, both of them are extremely talented thieves, Luke is very proficient when it comes to hacking, Caro, when it comes to hitting, and they’re also using Julie Mason, no relation. She’s the grifter and we think she’s the woman who pretended to have car trouble earlier. They’re all really good at their jobs, so make sure you’re vigilant when we get this painting back.”

“And remember,” Nate interjected, “Chaos is smart. He’ll have contingency plans, we just have to prepare for them.” Moriah raised her hand.

“Couldn’t we just track them and do a smash and grab?” “No.” Arlana said, flipping through paperwork. “They know we’re here, and now we’re pretty sure they know that we know. So all we have to do is….”

“Wait, I though Chaos worked alone? Why would he have a team now?” Jesse asked.  

“Well actually, when we first met him, he was with a team, as well,” Sophie said, “Thieves working with other thieves isn’t very common, most of us like to work alone, but sometimes especially if you’re tryig to pull off a really big job, like this one, you hire out some of the work. For example, Chaos can’t punch to save his life, so he hires Caro Grayback to do it for him.” “And then once the team has done its job, they get paid and then disperse.” Nate finished.

“Guess ya learn somethin’ new every day,” Lavada said. “So, if it’s not a smash ‘n grab, how’re we getting the painting back?”

“We haven’t gotten that far, but we’ll think of something on the way.” Arlana said, grabbing a set of keys off the table and walking to the back door. “Always good to see you, Becca, thank you so much!” Becca rolled her eyes as the back room empties.

“Sometimes, I’m curious about what they’re doing, and then I remember that I don’t want to know,” she said to herself, shaking her head slightly. She knew she was going to get dragged into this mess in one way or another later, she was just glad she could relax until then.

[supernaturalxyou]

Halfway Gone

Summary: a somewhat detailed request for readerxdean wherein Dean just can’t seem to figure out his feelings for the reader (and manages to kind of look like an ass in the process)

Warnings: some mentions of crusty ol’ dried blood, but otherwise none <3

There will be a Part 2 if y’ all would like :)

__________________________________________________________

"You can stay with us for as long as you like," Dean said, and Sam nodded beside him.

His face was calm, a little rugged, a little too well-defined, but kind. You tugged at the blanket hanging around your shoulders, thankful for its warmth, and bobbed your head along with the brothers. The purr of the engine was enough of a lullaby, enough to sing you into a calm, dreamless sleep.

*

And at first, no one noticed.

Dean's eyes flickered to the Impala's rear-view mirror every now and then, although there were no cars on the flat expanse behind you. Your eyelashes fluttered in your sleep, and he couldn't help but notice the curve of your jaw, the faint ghost of a dimple at the corner of your mouth; the way your cheeks were faintly flushed and smeared with grime sparked something that combusted all the air in his lungs.

Sam coughed slightly as the Impala veered dangerously close to the middle of the road, and Dean was forced to look away.

Sam turned to look at his brother, frowning slightly, but Dean shrugged.

"'S been a long day," he said. "And Y/N sure put up one hell of a fight back there."

Sam couldn't argue. He leaned back in his seat.

"A hunter in the making?" Sam asked.

Dean's lips pinched together, and he looked back at you in the mirror.

"Could be."

*

You turned out to be a great hunter, with a little training. Soon enough, you were riding with the Winchesters on all of their hunts; the three of you quickly became hard pressed to find a case that was worthy of your newfound skills.

You'd grown accustomed to your new life, despite its less than welcoming start. After six months with the brothers, you'd even begun to seek out monsters all of your own.

Research in hand, you padded down the hallway of the bunker towards the kitchen. You had a bad feeling that some vamps were feeding in your own little adoptive town, with four recent deaths in the past three days.

You were pleased to see that Sam and Dean were sitting at the kitchen table when you entered, and you promptly dropped your stack of papers onto the food-covered surface.

"New case, I think," you said easily, smiling. "Wanted to know what you guys thought."

Sam reached for your research and so you focused on him, missing the fact that Dean was frozen mid-sip-of-coffee as he peeked at you over his cup.

The younger Winchester flicked through your work, nodding. "I was actually going to bring this up. You think it's a nest?"

You pushed your hair back from your face and shrugged, though you were pleased he agreed. "Maybe. Either way, one vamp or a few, they don't seem too smart, huh?"

Sam smirked along with you and set your papers down. Dean, forgetting to swallow the coffee in his mouth, tried to return your smile; he turned and stood up in the next second, his chair squealing against the linoleum, so that you missed the small leaking of fluid from his mouth.

He wandered over to the sink, and you looked at Sam quizzically. Since you'd met Dean, he'd never said much to you, at least not as much as Sam did. Sam shrugged at your look, but you frowned.

"Um, okay. Well, I'm going to go get ready," you said abruptly. Sam shot you a small, sympathetic smile as you stood to leave, one that you greatly appreciated, before it was all you could do not to turn heel and run from the kitchen.

Once you were gone, Sam stood up, approaching his brother looming over the sink.

"Are you all right?" it was more of a demand than a question. "What the hell was that?"

Dean stared at the dull silver drain, though he didn't really see it. He thought about the way your hair always looked so unbearably, effortlessly shiny in the morning, and how you were always smiling, even when you were talking about slaying a nest of vamps.

"Got choked up," Dean replied hastily, and followed you out of the kitchen.

*

"Agent Spencer," Dean flipped his badge out towards the cop and snapped it back up again before he could get a closer look. "That's my partner Agent Hardison, and our rookie Agent Parker." You glared at Dean. Rookie? "We're here to see the crime scene."

"It's a few days old by now," the sergeant furrowed an eyebrow. "Not sure what you'll be able to get from it."

"Right, well, thank you for bringing us anyway, Sergeant. I think we can take it from here." Sam's smooth modesty unfurled the officer's brow, despite Dean's pushing him towards the exit. Sam rolled his eyes as Dean slammed the door shut behind the sergeant.

"Rookie, Dean?" You asked, when the coast was clear. "What the--"

"Look," Dean frowned as Sam tossed him a pair of rubber gloves. "Agents don't travel in threes. And you're the newbie. Makes sense."

Without looking at you, he turned towards the living room. "What are we looking for?"

"We need to figure out why they chose to kill this couple, in this house," Sam said. "Maybe we'll get lucky and they'll have left something behind."

You nodded, bumping Dean as you strode past him into the living room. You felt his eyes on the back of your neck, but the dried blood-soaked rug demanded your attention. Carefully, you walked over and bent down beside the last trace of the massacre, ignoring the churn in your gut at the smell of rotten rust.

The brothers moved behind you: Sam scuffled through drawers, looked under the couches; Dean turned on his heel and headed upstairs. You stared at the rug.

"How long has it been, Sam?"

"Since?"

"Since these guys were killed? A few days, right?"

"Yeah. What's up?"

Sam came to stand beside you. He stared at the bloody rug.

You blinked. "Why is there still all this blood on the rug, but none around it?"

You and Sam looked at the spotlessly clean floors, despite the horrific blood splatter on the once fluffy white carpet.

"They cleaned up," Sam said. You could almost hear the pieces clicking into place in his mind. "But they--"

"--didn't move the rug," you finished.

In one too-big step, he was on the other side of the living room.

"Help me drag it over," he said. Together, you pushed the bloody mess so that the carpet rested in a pile up against the wall. You weren't surprised that the rug's more coarse underbelly didn't look much better.

The floor beneath it was stained with residual dried blood, and flecked with grime, as though someone had deliberately worn new shoes and kicked at the floor until it was properly scuffed. Closer to you, a tiny piece of paper was stuck to the floor.

As you reached down to pick it up, Dean stomped back into the living room.

"Rest of the house is clear," he said. "What's that?"

Your eyes met - just for a second - and you wanted to feel relieved. You wanted to think that he was, finally, acknowledging you; you wanted something, something to give you a sign that you weren't just the rookie, that you weren't the thing that made Dean tense or quiet or half of what you knew he was when you weren't around.

"Looks like a business card," you held it out towards him, but Sam snatched it out of your hand.

"It's for some sort of hotel," he said. "But it could be nothing."

"Research time?" You smiled; Sam nodded.

Dean was at the door first. He held it open for you and Sam.

"Nice job, rookie," he said as you passed, and the smile dried on your face like the browned blood on the fluffy white rug.

*

"Get this," Sam said. "So that business card was for a hotel, but the place went out of business last year. The buyers have been asking for way too much for the building, so it's been vacant ever since. Could be where the vamps are hiding out."

"We still don't know why they chose to kill that couple, though," you said.

Sam nodded. "I've been thinking--"

"Doesn't really matter, does it?" Dean asked. "We know where the fanged wonders are, so I say we go over there and take them out."

"We might know where they are," you said. "And it's almost dark. It would be a lot easier if we hit them tomorrow, you know, while the sun's up."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Sam quipped. He closed his laptop and stood up.

Dean stared at his brother. "We can take 'em. Hell, Y/N could probably take them out all on her own with all the crap they've been up to."

You frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Dean's eyes flicked to you, and then the floor. "I just mean that--"

"Well, I guess if even I could take 'em, what's the point of waiting?" You stood up, too. "What the hell. Let's go."

"Y/N," Sam started, but you shook your head.

"I'll go load the car," you said. Without waiting for Sam's rebuttal, you huffed and left the room.

Sam turned to Dean, who only had eyes for your retreating figure.

"You need to sort out your crap with Y/N, Dean," Sam said. "You won't look at her until she's halfway gone. I don't know what the hell happened, but you need to figure it out before she decides to be reckless all on her own."

Dean swallowed hard and sighed as Sam followed you out.