#or help hardison hack in Lucille

[geeky-nightphilosopher]

Okay, okay. You all are probably ANNOYED about my Leverage posts- and I was on the fence about posting this one because I'm only on season 3. However, I just have SO many thoughts and I need to process them. So- here it goes;

*takes a deep breath*

Leverage is home. Like, I don't- I don't know to explain it. In another post I said the show was intoxicating and that's still true. But it's also- it's also home. Maybe I'm the only one, but when I watch it- I feel like I belong. Which is ridiculous. I'm not talented at all- but Leverage is almost like a security blanket. It's- it's safe and warm... it's home.

The only thing I can think of why it's home is because of them. Because they make it feel like home. They make feel safe and like your being cared for. Like your not alone. Even if you don't think your good at something- Leverage has your back. It gives you a sense of security. Which is weird because their criminals. But- like they said; Sometimes the bad guys are the only good guys you get.

I mean- you have Nate Ford who is always two to three spaces in front of the bad guy. Who sits there and listens to victims and gives them hope. Who talks to his team and bounces ideas off of them- instead of talking down to them. He's the kinda guy that watches from the background and sees all sorts of angles. Gets into the minds of both the victim and assailant. And if the con goes wrong- he has a second one ready to cover. Whose weakness is an empty bottle in an occupied barstool.

You have Sophie. A terrible actress whose good at acting. She can play any part. Be unseen- while being seen. Whose brave, kind, and gentle- but can kick butt when needed. She's not a damsel in distress- but she'll play the part. And the thing about that part is; it's so convincing- even she believes it too. Despite that- she's honest and sincere, she'll tell you what she thinks. Her heart is gold. Her trust is thin. She's like a snake- hypnotizing. Her weakness is the love she gave to a man who thinks too much and feels too little.

You have Eliot. A man that- if you just look at him- you'll just shrug him off. He's like any other brute. Big and brawny. And that's why you shouldn't ever judge a book by it's cover. He's so much more than that. Yes. He's brawn. A real southern charmer. But he has a brain and a heart. He's that big brother and gives you hugs and you can't help but melt into the security of that feeling. That feeling of safety that you just know has an ocean of anger underneath. But your not scared, you can't be scared. Not of him. He's the kinda guy you run towards- because you know he'll keep you safe. And yeah- maybe he'll use his brawn to keep you safe, but he'll also use his brain and his heart. He'll get you out of the situation in one piece with a grumble and a growl. His weakness is his kindness and that's why doesn't let it show.

You have Alec. The brainiac. The hacker- who isn't all that much to look at (compared to Eliot,) at least not at first glance. Yet, there's something about him that screams safe. Just as much as Eliot. He's outgoing and kind. Smart and funny. And the way that he's got everyone's back- even when it doesn't seem like it. He's your go to- to find any kind of internet mistakes and he's a good shoulder to cry on. He's that brother who is dorky, awkward, and nerdy- but he's honest and sincere. His weakness is not being able to be there when it really matters.

And- and you have Parker. The thief. The master thief- that didn't belong anywhere. Nimble and lean as she flips and slinks through vents. She's the little sister the family didn't know they even wanted. Until finally they realized she was what they needed. She's bright and cheerful despite how she grew up. Her life wasn't easy foster care and street living is a rough life- but she still believes in good things; Santa clause, Nate, Sophie, and Eliot. Most importantly she believed in Hardison. She was on her own until she was found and working with a team. Then she belonged to them. Everything she had done- was so that they knew she loved them. Her weakness is having the ability to not get caught.

To end this; Leverage is an amazing shoe- because it reminds us that no matter our background. No matter how many times we've messed up and haven't belonged- we are all human. It tells us that we will find our home, our tribe, our safety. That no matter our weakness- we'll always have somebody who can take our weakness and become our strength.

I'm only on season 3. I'll more than likely have more thoughts come by season 4/ season 5. (If you agree or disagree- don't hesitate to message me!

[stories-me]

Potential Character for Mrs. Kelsey and Tumblr 9/13/2023:

Alec Hardison, the Hacker of Leverage:

What he’s from: “Leverage”.

Background:

The team’s computer specialist, gadgeteer and hacker. He is a self-proclaimed geek and science fiction fan, with an easygoing manner and a dry, unusual wit. Hardison was raised by a foster parent, an older woman he refers to as “Nana”, and his first large-scale crimes involved sticking the country of Iceland with Nana’s medical bills. Hardison can hack into most forms of electronics, and he is rarely caught. Hardison designed and assembled the computer and video systems in the team’s headquarters, and is responsible for the two-way earpieces (“earbuds”) used by the team on each episode. Hardison is a convincing actor, able to talk his way out of almost any scenario, but he is often too clever for his own good, and whenever he has the opportunity to lead a con, he devises overcomplicated schemes usually doomed to failure. He is also very attached to his electronics (and in particular his van, “Lucille”) and shown to become very depressed when the con takes a turn for the worse and requires his electronics to be destroyed so the team can make its escape. Hardison from time to time will back up Eliot (the “Hitter”) in fighting situations although his skills are not nearly as extensive. Hardison’s and Parker’s (Parker is the “Thief”) relationship develops into a romantic one as time goes on, but it is fraught with personal (and physical) complications.

How he is like me:

We’re both smart and want to help others. Also, we both like computers and believe in justice for the underdog. We also have a sense of humor and can do accents.

Kelsey Notes:

When others show interest in your fan fictions by asking questions about certain stories, it is easy for them to become overwhelmed with the amount of information that comes from reading verbatim from a source off of the internet. 

          Summarizing in your own words is a good skill to start practicing- this will help you maintain a back-and-forth conversation about a character that is more meaningful than reading from the internet**

                    **You’ve made great progress in your conversation skills so this is new territory that you are stepping into**

Even though a character or story’s background is not complicated for you to understand, it can seem really complicated to another person. 

          When someone feels that something is too complicated for them to understand they aren’t likely to want to continue a discussion about it because it’s hard to discuss things that are difficult for one person to understand.

Being able to give a quick summary for characters and stories is important because it can help someone follow what you are talking about, making it more likely that a conversation will continue about the character and their story. 

It’s understandable that he would become upset or depressed when he has to destroy a device that he spent time creating. 

In order for the team not to get caught it seems like he is faced with having to start fresh from time to time

          This can relate to being a writer- you are constantly having to come up with new ideas when you finish a story

Rather than feeling doomed when you have to come up with something new or when you have to take a story in an unexpected direction for the reader’s understanding, try to remember that this is generally a strength that a writer posses  

[readinginthereadyroom]

it’s the queen’s gambit job (lev 4x10) and they are sitting around a table in mcrory’s eating takeout. running down the con.

and nate’s last minute addition of salt to parker’s equipment wasn’t plan b. no, it was plan m.

which is the plan hardison usually dies in. that is if he hasn’t already died in plans c, f, or m thru q. which hardison is VERY concerned about. after all that’s like 27% of the time. it’s a little too close to home.

eliot and parker don’t die in any plans, tho eliot could be permanently disfigured and blinded in one.

nate DOES NOT ANSWER for sophie.

so they are bickering and being found family (and seriously hoping this is just nate messing with them) and parker proposes a toast. to a glass eye.

and I am gonna headcanon that this becomes a kinda inside code. maybe not plan m, but bad. tho the level of bad is never discussed. after all it’s just a joke. right?

so it’s years later and parker’s the mastermind. she regularly assures hardison that there is no plan m. it’s not even in her alphabet. eliot teases her that her plans span different languages. hardison mutters about binary code and quadratic equations. there’s no m in cuniform, right?

and most the time their cons go off without a hitch. parker’s good like that. the best. her plans are like ballets spun between rotating laser beams. both planned to the smallest movement and completely on the fly. set to violin symphanies, country ballads, and christmas carols.

but sometimes the cons go wrong. eliot gets injured. hardison can’t hack the code. she gets trapped inside a building. and sometimes the cons go wrong bad. sometimes it gets bloody.

that’s when they say it. the first time was eliot. he’d been fighting with the mark’s security goons when the gunshot had rung out over the comms. followed by a grunt of pain and the sound of a body hitting the floor. then a terrible silence. parker hates that she knows what it means.

she flips around in the air duct. barely manages to keep her voice low. the cons over. I’m coming to you eliot. the only sound on the comms is the clack of hardison’s lightspeed typing. a buzzing static. do you hear me eliot? I’m coming to get you.

eliot? hardison’s voice sounds so small. that’s when parker remembers that they’d hacked the cctv footage. hardison had seen the whole thing. I-- he-- hardison stutters before rushing out he’s been shot. it’s bad. you got to get to him parker and you got to get to him. now. 

eliot’s gruff drawl interrupts them. I think this might be a glass eye scenario, sweethearts.

hardison’s typing never falters, but his breath hitches over the comms and his voice is strangled—like he swallowed his soda wrong—when he tells eliot to shut up, I am trying to save your ass. you already look mean enough without any damn glass eye.

it’s classic hardison. talking right over all his internal fears. trying to manifest his words into being. eliot’s huff of laughter tho. it’s strained but it’s also the most beautiful thing she’s ever heard.  

parker’s still in the air vent. she’s moving as fast as she can without rattling the ducts. she whispers into her comms. you should have hardison make it bionic. put a laser in it. and after dealing with a tricky corner dip, also it should be green.

more pained laughter, followed by a groan. my eyes are blue, parker. then hardison’s, guess we’ll just have to save you then. keep you from going all 6 million dollar-terminator-borg on us. keep your baby blues blue. parker smiles. she knows her boys. knew they always focus better when they are bickering.

and in the end it’s okay. parker gets to eliot with the first aid kit and patches him up. hardison hijacks them an elevator and they get out safely. eliot’s glass eye is evaded.

the next time it’s hardison. he’s snatched from lucille 5—right out from under their noses. they can hear his squawk of surprise over the comms. the shuffle of bodies and the distinct sounds of fists hitting flesh.

eliot growls deep and menacingly. parker can hear him instantly switch gears—from grifting the mark to protecting the team. his heavy footfalls are followed by offended protestations as he knocks people out of his way. the con is blown but parker doesn’t care.

because there’s snow fizzing in one ear and a polite automated error message in the other telling her all she needs to know. hardison’s gone. taken.

it’s an excruciating 28 hrs later when a text message from an unknown number chimes thru on parker’s backup burner phone. it’s only two words: glass eye.

parker sidles right up to eliot. bumps their shoulders together and shows him the message. it’s hardison. we can track his location if we move quick.

good. eliot’s voice drops from it’s usual honeyed whiskey to bloody gravel. it always does when he’s in hitter mode. tell me where he is. I swear if they’ve hurt him I’ll rip their lungs out. parker nods, hardison’s spare laptop already open on her lap. I’ll help.

hardison’s in bad shape when they find him. but not as bad as his captors once eliot’s thru with them. they’re on the highway speeding toward a hospital when hardison finally opens his eyes. parker can see him smile up at eliot in the rearview mirror before he glances up at her.

it’s my peoples. knew you’d come get me. eliot uses a corner of his bandana to wipe the blood away from hardison’s face. course we did, alec. can’t have you getting any glass eyes. wouldn’t suit you. eliot leans down and stage whispers in his ear, his voice warm and smooth again, you’re not nearly badass enough.

hardison sputters in outrage and parker lets out the breath she didn’t know she was holding. drops the hard line of her shoulders. lets up on the gas. if her boys are bickering then she knows everything is going to be okay.

hardison will be okay. they will be okay. no glass eyes today.

and eventually it’s parker’s turn. it’s not even a proper job—she’s scaling an elevator shaft for recon when a support gives way. and it’s silly. she’s fallen 3 floors and her leg is definitely broken. and she can hear eliot’s voice in her ear saying it was a very distinctive crunch but all she can think is that this is her glass eye.

she must’ve said that out loud because hardison is babbling on about scars and lasers and talking about numbers. seven and nine what? she vaguely thinks it might be some sort of new concussion protocol tho she can’t quite focus enough to make it make sense.

something warm and wet is pooling under her cheek, blocking her vision. oh and that’s it, isn’t it? hardison’s still muttering under his breath and eliot is grunting her name over the comms. c’mon parker you gotta talk to me! I’m coming to get you dammit but you gotta talk. to. me.

can I have a snowglobe in my glass eye? hardison sputters before stuttering—woman I swear you will be the death of me. and she thinks he sounds a little bit relieved. but it doesn’t stop his voice from warbling when he asks, you okay mama?

parker lifts her face out of the tacky puddle it’s in, starts to nod and then immediately throws up. she can’t focus. eliot’s don’t move parker, you have a concussion is followed by a sympathy gag from hardison.

her head is throbbing and her leg feels like it’s on fire. but she can hear her boys breathing over the comms. can hear them cajole her to talk more. they’re coming to get her.

but they’re not bickering. and that feels wrong. that feels wrong bad.

and then there’s a metal scraping sound as the elevator doors above her are pried open. light floods the shaft and parker blinks into it. I can see you she whispers. and she can. they are silhouetted in a rectangle of light above her.

and then they are setting up ropes and climbing down toward her. just like she taught them. and it’s kinda beautiful. even if it’s plan m and a glass eye. I think I broke the pretzels.

when she wakes up it’s two weeks later and she’s hooked up to a hospital bed. her left leg is in a cast and her arms are covered in bruises and rope burn. there’s a bandage blocking half her vision.

but then she sees eliot. he’s asleep in a chair next to the bed, his hand wrapped gently around hers and his head resting on hardison’s shoulder. he looks exhausted. his hair is frizzy and he hasn’t shaved. hardison doesn’t look much better. his mouth is open and he’s half snoring. his clothes are dark and rumpled.

she smiles. she’s always enjoyed catching her boys like this—soft and quiet and together. it’s the next best thing to hearing them bicker.

that’s when she sees it. a sparkle of light, almost like a diamond, on the medical cart between them. nestled in a padded velvet box is a glass eye.

[schrijverr]

Hold Me Together

Chapter 3 out of 4

Eliot gets hurt on a job and then sick. Hardison and Parker waste no time to jump in to care for him and it becomes harder and harder to say no to their care when it’s just so nice. After he has a nightmare, they’re there for him and feelings come to light.

AKA Eliot has a terrible time physically (and partly emotionally), but gets lots of cuddles and two partners in the end.

On AO3.

Ships: Thiefsome OT3

Warnings: Eliot's low self esteem and the flu

~~~~~~~~~~~

Hold Me Tight

Eliot ate his soup under the watchful gazes of Hardison and Parker. It was good soup, but he felt guilty about having the kitchen staff cook for him, deciding to thank them profusely later. He also made a mental note to yell at Hardison and Parkerlater about burning a pan, hoping it hadn’t been one of his nice pans.

For now though, the soup was heavenly on his throat and its warmth was great for his cold bones, so he just leaned against the headboard and ate his soup, spotting the stuffed mushroom on his bedside table.

Once it became clear, he wasn’t going to explode, or whatever those two thought he was going to do, they relaxed and started babbling about all sorts of things. While Eliot had been sleeping, they had also taken a nap, before the failed soup experiment, after which Hardison had taught Parker how to play Thief: Deadly Shadows, which Parker found too unrealistic and critiqued the stealing animations, until they had decided to keep him company.

Their chatter was relaxing and despite the fact that Eliot had been asleep for sixteen hours, not to mention the car ride before that, he found his eyes drooping.

“You tired?” Hardison asked kindly and Eliot’s gut instinct was to deny it. He couldn't go to sleep again, it was embarrassing and unnecessary. Still, he was tired and they had been so nice, but if he went to sleep they would leave him again.

That train of thought had taken a quick turn and Eliot was frustrated that he didn’t have a good control over his emotions and thoughts due to the fluof all things that was making him dazed. He blinked the thought away and shook his head.

“So you’re not tired?” Parker filled in with a confused frown. And Eliot wanted to deny it for real this time, but instead he yawned.

“I somehow find that hard to believe,” Hardison quirked a brow playfully.

God, they were so nice to him and he didn’t deserve that, but it was so nice and he wanted them to stay with him and not go to sleep, even if he was tired. He pushed down the tears threatening to well up in his eyes, before whispering: “Don’t want to sleep yet.”

It was pathetic and he should have just said that he was fine and that he was going to get up, but he couldn’t and if anyone asked later he had a sore throat and couldn’t speak.

“No?” Hardison asked.

“No,” Eliot replied. He didn’t want to sleep, he didn’t want to be left alone and he didn’t want to be pathetic, yet there he was.

“We could watch a movie,” Parker suggested and Eliot could have kissed her. He had wanted to kiss her on multiple occasions, but this was definitely one of them- And he should really stop thinking about kissing Parker right about now, okay, pushing that away.

“That’s a great idea, mama,” Hardison exclaimed, getting up to grab his laptop since Eliot had refused to let him install a tv in his room. As he went he took the empty bowl with him.

Parker took it upon herself to built a semi-pillow fort around Eliot, before burrowing into Eliot’s side with a content sigh. Alarms went off in his head at the closeness even if it was nice, so he protested it with a raw voice: “I could be contagious.”

“We slept next to you for a night then sat on the backseat of Lucille for eight hours, bit too late for that,” Parker said. “Besides, you’re warm and soft.”

His brain short-circuited for a moment and when he came back online Hardison was there, three steaming mugs on a tray as he said: “Ahw, aren’t you two making an adorable picture,” successfully breaking Eliot again.

Next to him Parker smiled and did grabby hands to the mugs. Hardison gave her one, which was obviously hot chocolate under the pile of marshmallows on top of it. Luckily, the mug that Eliot was given was filled with tea. It was bag tea, badly prepared, but there was honey in it and he was touched anyway.

“Okay, I’m thinking 007, it’s James Bond, a classic, must see,” Hardison said, plopping down on Eliot’s other side, setting the laptop on Eliot’s lap and leaning over as he started typing.

“He’s a terrible spy,” Eliot protested, barely audible, more because if he said anything else, he would blurt out something embarrassing and bickering with Hardison about his movie taste was the safest thing right now.

“And your voice is almost gone, so you should rest it,” Hardison shot him a cheeky grin, “No complaining from you for once.”

Eliot guffawed about that, frowning, but he didn’t reply, because he wouldn't waste his voice on something so petty and childish, no matter what Hardison thought, so he just looked away haughtily to convey his dismay.

“Oeh, I know, it’s the one with the dude he thinks he’s good at what we do, but he’s not and also on the other side of the law,” it clicked for Parker and Eliot smiled when she picked his side of the argument.

“Other side of the law? Woman, do you mean the right side of the law?” Hardison said.

“I mean, it’s the other side of the law from us,” Parker shrugged and Eliot couldn't help but bark out a laugh, Hardison joining in, before everyone was distracted when it turned into a coughing fit and Eliot’s tea had to be saved by Parker while Hardison rubbed his back.

“You good?” Hardison asked when the coughing had subsided.

Still a bit out of breath and red in the face, Eliot nodded. He gestured vaguely with his hand to convey that he was fine and that they should let it go, before clearing his throat and rasping: “You know, I’m with Parker.”

“Really? You just nearly died of coughing and your first reaction is to continue a stupid argument where you know you’re wrong,” Hardison said indignantly.

“‘m not wrong,” Eliot told him, voice now barely a whisper.

“You. You stay quiet, okay. Your voice is making my throat hurt-” Hardison took the tea from Parker and pushed it into Eliot’s hands “-drink your tea and shut up, while you watch how wrong you are, okay. Both y’all.”

Eliot grinned lightly, but let them push him back onto the pillows, cradling his mug as Hardison finished setting up the movie, while Parker whispered in his ear: “I don’t get why people think he’s cool, besides the explosions.”

“I heard that,” Hardison called out, clicking play, before settling down on Eliot’s other side, bracketing him between them.

It was nice and comfortable and Eliot should really not be allowing this, because he was fine dammit and he could take care of himself. But it was really really nice and, honestly, it didn’t seem like Parker and Hardison thought him to be breakable and they had had movie nights in the past, so it wasn’t anything new. Besides, his muscles were too sore for fighting right now.

The movie played on the screen, but he couldn't focus and his eyes were closing more and more. He felt himself slide to the side and land on something warm, but no one pushed him away and to the sound of bullets flying, he began to nod off.

He fought it for a while, he really wanted to stay present with Parker commenting on the movie and Hardison defending it until a hacking scene came on and then he was really upset about the whole thing.

It felt like home, comfortable and safe and Eliot wanted to experience it for as long as it lasted, but sleep won out and soon he was out like a light once more.

When he woke up again, he was shivering and cold to the bone, it didn’t matter that there were multiple blankets piled on top of him and that he still had Hardison’s stupidly warm hoodie on. The sweat was cooling on his body and he was cold.

And alone.

Somehow that second fact hit him harder than he’d expected and he immediately hated himself for being a clingy pathetic little bitch. He knew better than this, they’d already seen enough weakness from him. They had handled it so far, but there would be a breaking point and he knew it. He had to keep them out of it, before they got there and they would leave. He had to take care of himself from now on.

Determined he got up out of bed to find more blankets and clean clothes, because still wearing Hardison’s hoodie should be weird and not comforting and the clothes were too sweaty to be comfortable anyway. His left ankle still throbbed as he got up, but he could walk and stand on it now, albeit unsteadily and with a slight limp.

He felt entirely uncomfortable, his skin itchy around him and his body uncoordinated. He wanted to take a shower, but didn’t trust himself enough to take one, so he just pulled on new clothes, a shirt and boxers – no pants because he’d already almost fallen over with the boxers – before padding out his room and to the living room where there should be more blankets. He had no clue what time it was but it was between sun and stars, either early morning or evening.

The unanswered question about the time was answered when he entered the living room and saw Parker and Hardison curled up on the couch with a blanket and pizza. Dinner. At least he hoped it wasn’t breakfast, because then he would have to yell at them and that seemed like about as much work as standing was right now.

Two pairs of eyes had locked onto him the moment he had come stumbling into the room, and he looked at them like a deer in headlights. He somehow hadn’t counted on encountering them, even if it was technically their apartment and he just had a room there.

After a moment of staring, Parker sprung up, exclaiming: “Eliot!” as she scrambled over the back of the couch with the blanket she and Hardison had been sharing.

“Hey, man, what are you doing here? You should be in bed,” Hardison had gotten over his initial surprise of Eliot appearing in just his boxers and a shirt (and he was really regretting not putting in the extra effort of pants).

Then the question registered and with a hoarse voice, he explained: “I go’ col’. Blan’e’s.”

“You’re up looking for more blankets?” Hardison asked. “Good god, you’re shivering, man. Come, sit on the couch.” Parker led him to the couch while Hardison mumbled: “How is this man cold? We left nearly all the blankets on his bed.”

Eliot felt guilty about interrupting their evening when he’d already taken up so much of their time since their last con, on which they also hadn’t been able to spend much time together, but between his clattering teeth and lost voice, his explanation got lost.

He was alone on the couch now, with both Hardison and Parker having disappeared once they’d installed him with the blanket tucked tightly around him. He was a bit lost on what was expected of him now, but soon Parker came back with the mess of blankets that had been on his bed and Hardison arrived with a steaming bowl and a hot bottle.

Hardison handed him the bottle and he tucked it against his chest, before Parker practically swaddled him. He softly protested: “You don’ nee’ to do t‘is.”

“We know,” Hardison smiled again with a bit of knowing in there as if he was aware why Eliot was protesting. It should bother him more than it did that they knew him so well. “Just drink your soup, Eliot. We want to take care of you.”

“Yes, it’s a skill you need to learn and you helped me,” Parker smiled and it was so easy to agree with the smile and just drink his soup, but he couldn't just accept help like that.

What he wanted to tell them was: ‘You two need to stop all of this, because I don’t need it and you two are dating and I’m only in the way of that right now. Just let me get to my room and I’ll be fine on my own while you have date night. This is really sweet and all, but I’ve been through worse and I’ll survive a little flu by myself.’

However, his voice had left him entirely now to the point of inaudible, so instead he moved his mouth while hoarse whispers that couldn't even be called words came out.

“I didn’t get that,” Parker said after a beat and it was just blunt and honest and completely Parker.

“Me neither, mama,” Hardison said. “I can go grab you a pen and some paper, man. You can write it down if you want?”

And that was the opposite of what he wanted. He wanted them to see he was bad in their life and not worthy of this attention, he wanted them to go away before they could see he was weak and they couldn't count on him, even if he would die before they couldn't count on him anymore. The longer this went on the sooner they would see the soft, weak parts of him and they would want to cut him out. And he didn’t want to be cut out. Of course he didn’t want to be cut out, but that would be inevitable if they stayed, because they would see his creepy feelings for them or see how much he craved contact and that would be the end.

His vision blurred and his breath came in raspy wheezes. Far away he could hear Parker and Hardison’s worried voices and he faintly wondered why they weren’t upset with him for ruining their night and falling apart over nothing.

Why couldn’t they just leave him like everyone else? It would hurt, but it would be easier.

But they didn’t leave, instead there was a bony arm around his shoulders and a soft hand rubbing his back as two voices spoke in calming tones, though he couldn't make out what they were saying. He took some more deep breaths and tried to push it all down and lock it away.

Once his vision had cleared he could see a laptop on a blank word document in front of him. He didn’t have the energy to repeat all he’d said, but he typed anyway: im aorry dioe ruinug your date nifht

He couldn't really focus, but both were quiet for a moment as they deciphered his words. Then he was pulled into a half hug by Hardison this time, as the other said: “You’re not ruining anyone’s night, man. What gave you that idea?”

Eliot shrugged helplessly at that, because how could they not see he was ruining their night by getting injured and then sick and deciding to stay here even if he had an apartment, because there was a room here. And he was really relying too much on them already for when it all came crashing down around him.

“Do you not want us to be here with you?” Parker asked, sounding sad.

He shook his head quickly, because he could never let Parker be sad, a stab of pain going through his skull as he did, before shrugging, wishing he had a voice, even if he was too exhausted to explain. He wasn’t sleepy, just tired, like he wanted to sit and stare, but not sleep.

Parker wrapped herself around him, putting her head on his shoulder as she said: “It’s okay. I sometimes also don’t know what I want. We’ll just figure it out together.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Hardison agreed with her and Eliot wanted to cry at their kindness, but instead he just nodded weakly, giving in to taking up space when they didn’t seem to mind. He accepted the soup again and focusing on eating it and the warmth of Hardison and Parker as well as the blankets around him, instead of the thoughts swirling in his mind.

The two had the good sense to let him be, while they went back to the conversation he’d interrupted. It seemed they had been discussing the ethics of pushing someone of the building. Eliot had heard both sides of the argument often enough to tune them out and just listen to the tones of their voices as his mind sank away.

Content he stared into the void for a while. He didn’t keep track of the time, but it could have been minutes to an hour. In the time he ate his soup and let the bowl get taken away gently as the hot water bottle cooled and the shivers came back. His breath was wheezy and he sniffled, regularly interrupted with a cough.

After a while they put on a movie and cuddled on the couch with him, but he could not have told anyone later what the movie was.

They helped him to bed at some point, he brushed his teeth slowlyand slept long and deep, but when he woke up he was still in that hazy staring mood. Parker brought him a few crackers with more tea with honey that he ate gratefully giving her an, in her opinion, dopey smile, even if his eyes couldn't stay fully focused on her.

It was never brought up later and Eliot didn’t remember, but when Parker had asked him why he was smiling, he had told her in a hoarse whisper: “‘s nice, not bein’ alone.” And after that, he hadn’t been alone, because Parker had told Hardison, who had gotten a sad look in his eye, before getting Eliot and carting him off to the couch.

Eliot had gone along willingly. He couldn't really do more than think ‘hmm, warm,’ as he leaned in and stumbled along, but he was glad to just sit on the couch under a lot of blankets while Parker hung in the rafters and Hardison worked on some IDs.

He was pretty sure Sophie came by and he said hi to her and she told him something about talking to Nate, but he couldn't be sure. He should ask Hardison or Parker about it, because they had talked to her more and he should be interested in who went in and out of the apartment, check for security risks. But he was exhausted and he couldn't focus on anything.

Still, he was completely sure that if something were to happen, he would be up and ready to fight as best as he could, but his brain had shut off for anyone he’d deemed safe.

That night Hardison and Parker slept in his bed again, like they’d done at the hotel and the first night back in Portland. Their presence was calming and despite the chills, he felt warm.

During the night he didn’t wake up once, which was actually rare even with the sickness knocking him out constantly. The shivers had been waking him up for short moments, along with the coughing, but pressed between Parker and Hardison, he slept like a baby.

When he woke up, however, he was keenly aware of the cooling sweat on his skin and the every present smell of sickness in the air and the horrid taste in his mouth. He also then realized that meant Hardison and Parker were smelling it too and he let out a small noise of embarrassment, before he was even aware of it.

“What’s wrong, E?” Hardison asked and Eliot would rather just sink into the ground, but he couldn't so he burrowed into his blanket and wrinkled his nose.

“Are you still a mermaid?” Parker appeared where he had rolled away from Hardison.

“We watched The Little Mermaidrecently,” Hardison explained.

Eliot nodded. He might be able to talk, but his throat hurt and none of his thoughts stuck around for long enough to form into sentences he could verbalize.

Parker was still studying his face closely, while Hardison went on a mission to figure out what the noise had meant. “Are you in pain? Do we need to get you some pain meds?”

A grumpy, negative grunt.

“Okay, okay, no need to be so touchy feel-y. I get it, no pain meds,” Hardison backed off. “Is there any other discomfort?”

And there was, the taste and smell and the fact that Hardison and Parker were in the smell and not saying anything about it. Also the fact that his clothes felt grimy from the sweat that madehis skin feellike it needed to crawl off him if he ever wanted to feel comfortable and clean again. But he wasn’t telling them that, because they might want to do something about it, which would be even more embarrassing.

“He’s not telling us something,” Parker snitched on him and while he was glad her people-reading skills had increased, he didn’t like her using them on him. So, he hid in his blanket again as protest.

“There is something!” Hardison agreed, taking his silent protest as Parker’s words having truth and Eliot hated and loved them both for how well they could read him. It was dangerous to have people that close and it would hurt when they left, but to have a family again was nice.

Having them was nice.

Oh no. Abort. Abort. Not having those thoughts while they were in his bed and he was in just a shirt and boxers.

Actually, never those thoughts.

Never.

They were happy together and he only broke things. He was bad and needed to stay away from that and he knew it. Just had to ram it in a few more times before it would stick in his thick skull and- fuck they were still talking to him.

“… never tell us anything and I know you can’t talk and shit, but you really need to give me more than those blank, panicky eyes,” Hardison looked at him, before sighing in what Eliot would call a fond manner, if he didn’t know better. “You didn’t hear a word I was saying, did you?”

Sheepishly Eliot shook his head, wincing when that every present headache made itself known again.

“He feels bad about it,” Parker observed and he would love it if she stopped reading his face to Hardison and let him vanish in peace.

“Okay, it’s okay,” Hardison smiled and a knot loosened in Eliot’s chest, even when he hadn’t noticed it had been there. “I’ll ask again. He listening, mama?”

After a look Parker confirmed: “He is.”

“Good. So, Eliot, the thing that’s bothering you, could we do something to change it and help?” he asked and there was, but Eliot wasn’t showering with them near him again, maybe they’d hold him and the last time was too intense already. His mind spun when he thought about it, so yeah, he didn’t need a close repeat of that, not if he wanted to push Hardison and Parker away.

“I’m taking your silence as a yes,” Hardison informed him, snapping him back to the present, though he could play that off. He had been distant mentally ever since he got sick.

“So, what is it?” Parker asked, poking him and, oh yeah, he realized, them knowing something was up meant that they were going to needle him for answers until they had them.

Luckily for him, he had sat through worse torture and never breathed a word.

A few moments later and he was breaking. Parker kept on poking him and Hardison kept looking at him with those open, concerned eyes while he spoke too much for Eliot too keep track of everything, until it all became too much. “Uncomfortable,” he finally said. Well, tried to say, it sounded more like ‘un’omf’r’le,’ but that was besides the point.

“What’s uncomfortable, E?” Hardison asked, not unkindly.

“E’erythin’,” he replied, tugging at his shirt and wrinkling his nose as he smacked his lips and shuddered, before the shudder turned into a sneeze and a small, miserable cough.

“You feeling yucky, buddy?” Parker asked, earning her look form the other two. Defensively she shrugged: “What? It’s what they say in those movies and shows.”

And when she mentioned it, he did feel pretty yucky, even if he would never describe it like that out loud. Hardison, however, had no such qualms and he delighted in saying: “He probably does feel very yucky. But we can take care of that. I’ll start running a bath.”

Immediately Eliot felt conflicted and made a protesting noise. He wanted a bath, god, nothing sounded better than nice hot water on his sore muscles and cold, sweat stained skin, but if he had learned anything, it was that neither of them would leave him in peace in the bath and he was trying to distance himself, even if that seemed absurd with how both were in his bed, cuddling him through the night to keep him warm.

“Don’t worry, I’ll come back,” Hardison smiled, misinterpreting his noise and sweeping out of the room before Eliot could rectify the mistake.

Parker cuddled back into his side and confided in him: “He never breaks that promise. Took me a while to believe it too, but it’s okay. You’ll get there.”

Eliot didn’t understand, didn’t get how neither of them could see how wrong they were. He wanted to rip his hair out and- oh, there was a hand in his hair, getting out the tangles. It was nice and his mind blanked as he leaned into the contact, something he would berate himself for later.

He only remembered that he should have been convincing Parker that this was a terrible idea when Hardison returned. “You two gotta stop doing this to me, man. You look like a content cat. Now get up, we got a bath to get too.”

The blanket was pulled off him and the cold swept over him. He shivered hard and tried to flee into Parker’s side before he could even think about that action too hard. For a moment, he thought he was safe too, because she wrapped her arms around him like a hug, but then she turned it against him and dragged him to his knees with her.

“Man, I feel like I’m about to slaughter a puppy right now,” Hardison told him as he took Eliot from Parker and pulled him out of bed.

“He’ll be fine once he’s warm and clean again,” Parker assured him. “He’s just being a bit of a baby about it.”

“I think he’s allowed to be a baby about it,” Hardison said and Eliot would have a lot more opinions on the conversation if the room wasn’t spinning and he was barely keeping up with Hardison’s steps, completely trusting the hacker not to drop him. “I mean, look at how he’s shivering, can’t be comfortable.”

Eliot blinked again, the room was still swaying, but it was a different room than before. There was a hot steam in the air and there were tiles around him. The bathroom. He was too late to stop them and he gave in.

If anyone he used to know could see him now, they’d never believe it. The great Eliot Spencer giving into the whims of a hacker and a thief, not even fighting getting a bath even when he knew it was a security risk and something that could blow up in his face.

Deft hands were divesting him of his shirt and soon he was in just his boxers. The door opened and closed behind him as Parker vanished, while Hardison said: “She’s gonna change the sheets and I’m here to keep you from drowning. There are bubbles in the bath, but I can understand if you want to keep your boxers on.”

He nodded, because he would like to keep the boxers on. The steam was doing wonders for his throat, but he didn’t trust himself to speak just yet.

Hardison supported him at the elbows as he stepped into the bath. The water was warm and he sank into it gratefully with a soft sigh, his muscles were already loosening and the heat did nothing against the sleepiness that had been plaguing him. His eyes closed without his permission as the water embraced him.

A hand under his chin stopped him before he could sink underwater and his eyes snapped open to find Hardison smiling at him. “Told you I wasn’t going to let you drown. Go on, relax, Eliot. It’s okay, I got you.”

It was distinctly harder to relax with Hardison holding him up, his big warm hands were very distracting and Eliot was trying really hard not to be distracted. The water was like heaven on his muscles, so that helped and he could feel the steam clearing his sinuses and alleviating the strain on his throat.

Few minutes in and Hardison’s hands were just part of the little place of niceness away from all the discomfort that came with being sick.

Eliot knew he could have just existed like that forever, floating away from his body while still feeling the nice sensations, were it not for the door making noise again as Parker came in. He perked his head up and cracked one eye open.

She smiled at him and held up some clothes, which she put down as she skipped forwards, kneeling next to the bath. With open eyes she asked: “How are you feeling? Baths always make me feel tingly in a good way, are you feeling tingly?”

He didn’t know what hisface did at the question, but Hardison laughed: “I think he’s feeling plenty tingly, mama. I saw you with your hands in his hair, wanna wash it?”

Parker lit up at that and even if Eliot had been planning to protest – which hadn’t crossed his mind before it was too late – he couldn't have told her no with that face. So he watched as they switched places, feeling kinda awkward at both of the staring at him while he was going to face a vulnerable action.

Eliot wasn’t going to ask where she had gotten the skill, but she knew what she was doing as she slipped a hand under his neck, before slowly pushing him down into the water, until he was comfortably floating. She ran a hand through his hair and the final awkwardness slipped from his mind along with most of his thoughts as he leaned into the touch.

Under the water with his eyes closed, he couldn't see Hardison’s looks that he couldn't place with his fuzzy mind, nor Parker’s excitement and apparent happiness about taking care of him like he needed their help. He could just be and feel the tender touches that no one had given him in many years, everyone always quicker to see him as a threat to be avoided.

He was even slightly upset when Parker pulled him back up, a noise leaving his throat before he remembered that he wasn’t supposed to find Parker’s hands on him nice, she had a boyfriend. A hot boyfriend, but also a no-no on the touch list.

So, he kept quiet as Parker lathered shampoo into his hair. It was her shampoo, he was almost sure of it. Her hair always smelled like it and, if he remembered correctly, it had been a gift from Hardison. Now he had to fight both the blush as well as soft pleased noises.

And he failed at both.

“Ahw, man, the moment you feel better, I am so teasing you with this,” Hardison said. “You’re just too sad for me to do it now, but I will remember this. I’m probably not allowed to film you, right, because this is great.”

His response was going to be something along the lines of ‘Dammit, Hardison,’ but Parker was faster as she spoke for him: “Hardison! Shush, we just got him to accept a bit of nice things, don’t ruin our master plan.”

“Sorry, mama,” Hardison looked chastised and Eliot wanted to ask about the master plan, but Parker just hit a knot in his hair and he shivered against her touch instead and forgot was he was going to ask.

When Parker washed out his hair, she was careful not to get it into his eyes, but she also let him float a bit longer, the silence of the water stilling his swirling mind. It was empty now, which was better than the confusing half-thoughts and admonishes.

Still, the water was cooling around him and sooner than he’d like, Parker was letting him up as Hardison got him out of the bath.

He could at least stand on his own now and Parker left the two of them while Eliot got dried off and into new clothes.

Being able to stand on his own, however, didn’t mean it wasn’t still strange. His entire being felt soft and collapsible from the bath and sitting on the toilet with Hardison rubbing him down with a towel wasn’t helping. He couldn't even remember why he was allowing Hardison to do it, instead of drying himself, but the contact was nice and he got lost in it.

Soon there was a shirt floating in front of him and this time his shoulder was good enough to slide his armin it. Hardison had dried his stitches and mumbled something about them healing well, which Eliot appreciated. He didn’t need more of his body to turn against him like it was doing now with the way he swayed towards Hardison whenever then man moved away slightly.

The pants was still awkward as fuck, with Eliot leaning one hand on Hardison’s shoulder and looking away at the ceiling while Hardison helped him into dry boxers and sweatpants, patting him on the leg when he was done.

He expected to go back to bed, but Hardison had remembered all the little details and was standing in front of him with his toothbrush. He reached out for it, but his arm was heavy and fell halfway through the uncoordinated grab.

“Yeah, okay, this is just sad, open up,” Hardison said. Eliot didn’t comply and he raised a brow, before putting on a voice and going: “Come on, say ahhhh.”

Eliot glared at him, but said ahhh with a murderous glare that fell flat in the grand scheme of it all. He let Hardison steady his jaw, before he brushed his teeth. It was rhythmic and soothing and Eliot allowed himself to get lost in the sensations as Hardison took care of him, spitting in the sink and accepting the glass of water offered to him.

Then they returned to the bedroom, Hardison a steady presence at his side as had become the norm in the past few days.

When he got to his bedroom, the sheets had been changed and he never thought he’d see the day where that would make him emotional, but there were still tears trying to well up that he pushed down, because they were just so goddamnedthoughtful and they were taking care of him even when they didn’t need to.

It was just a lot. Eliot wasn’t used to it. And his brain would have told him to not get used to it, if it hadn’t been turned to slight mush by the sickness and the nice warm bath.

So, he got into the bed and burrowed into the clean sheets with a happy smile, not seeing the ‘oh my god, he’s being adorable like a puppy looks’ that Hardison and Parker shared as he whispered a soft thanks.

“No problem,” Hardison said. “Here scoot over, Parker picked a movie.”

And he did so gladly, even if he knew it was a play to get him to sleep again. He wasn’t fighting them, his brain felt warm and he wasn’t thinking straight enough just yet, so he let them cozy up to his sides as a movie he couldn't name played.

He napped till the evening then he ate more soup and he would complain about different nutrient intakes and diversity in a diet, but he was just glad that they cared enough to bring him food – and he would really have to thank the kitchen staff later for that too – while also not burning down his kitchen.

That evening, he stayed awake through the movie, which was a shitty horror movie that Eliot had never heard about and could have gone his entire life without knowing about it.

However, sleep took him for the night just as easily and he was looking forward to the day he could stay awake and think straight again. That day was not the next day, however, which passed in a similar fashion.

But, while he felt and looked like a wreck, on the fifth day back at the brewpub, he felt slightly better. His nose was still completely stuffed but with all the tea, the bath and resting his voice, his throat was much better already, even the coughing subsiding little by little. His appetite was still shit and he had no energy, his head was also constantly thrumming and his muscles hurt like he’d been fighting for hours, on top of his healing injuries that had fallen into the background of his general discomfort.

Still, while it wasn’t a lot, his head wasn’t so fuzzy anymore either. It meant he felt all the aches more, but he liked that he had a little more control over his head.

Sadly, because he had more control over his head, he remembered how this was all wrong and he should be far away from this.

~~

A/N:

Eliot goes from grumpy man to emotional wreck in three chapters and I commend him for that, because it takes me five minutes max

Also, it’s really hard to write a story when the person from whose POV it is written keeps falling asleep, like sir, I need you to write the fic, stop sleeping.

Fun fact!: I typed this ‘im aorry dioe ruinug your date nifht’ without looking, bc I am actually a shit typer in the sense that I type with two fingers (four if I’m in a hurry), lmao. How I get anything done is a miracle, though I am pretty fast despite it all.

I feel like I should also mention that I know nothing about taking care of sick people and this was written for the emotional care, not the realistic nursing techniques. Also don’t look too closely into what happened to all the injuries, I half forgot, oops

Btw, angstier chapter incoming, fear me >:3

[you-cant-spell-subtext-without]

I wish I had half the ability to fully flesh that snippet out. 😭 If anyone wants to, this is me giving my blessing. But I love writing AUs and crossovers, so we shall see! I’d LOVE the fic to be a big heist Sam and Dean work for a hunt and they run into the Leverage team. Charlie trying to hack and ending up in a little battle with Hardison. Eliot and Parker are working around Dean. Parker especially is messing with him from wherever she’s hiding. Sam and Sophie run into each other, both undercover, and fuck the other’s task up. At some point they all clear up confusion or something and decide to work together, reluctantly or not. I want Charlie and Hardison to bond. She invites him to a LARPing get together after they bond geeking out about X, Y, and Z. At some point Dean kinda scoffs at Hardison’s protectiveness over Lucille (if you’re not at Lucille yet, it’s his tech van he loves more than anything) and Sam is just like “Dude, seriously?” because Dean is being a hypocrite. Meanwhile Hardison talks about what a gas guzzler the impala is etc etc and they weirdly have this little one-upping-each-other thing all throughout the story. Dean is not a fan of this and Sam is hesitant, but they decide to let Nate brainstorm a plan. Dean still insists on calling his own shots because Nate doesn’t know how they work like he does with the others, but inevitably they pair up and that’s where Eliot and Dean’s thing comes in and the rest is whatever else. That’s the best you’re getting from me lol. It’s a really fun idea though.

THIS IS SUCH A GOOD STORY!!!

OK. if you dont do it before I finish the show, I will.

but. I want you to do it. you have the ability!!! you've written it!!! seriously. do it. you already have the bones!!!!!!! you just need a little decor w dialogue and exposition. the hard parts done!!!

and reach out if you need beta help bc I will totes assist once I have a few more seasons of the show under my belt ;)

[frenchtoastpanda]

The Leverage finale

Gonna rant in public because @rainaramsay expressed interest. I have no theme this is just my thoughts as I rewatch this episode. Idk why I’m doing this. (Also I don’t know how to format, so sorry about that)

Oh right I forgot that this is a fucking sad episode why am I doing this to myself

Ooh the return of the Steranko! I am very glad they brought that back

I just love when they bring things back in general, like in the white rabbit job all of the companies looking to buy dogson are previous marks and how they have like three brand names for safes that they reuse a lot. It just makes it feel like a real world that people live in.

The theater! Perfect for Sophie! And the mentioned the tunnels, which I believe we encountered in the gold job

Sophie says “I have just the thing” and my immediate response is always “the play’s the thing” even though I know it’s from a different play than the one they are doing

And can we talk about how they are doing the same play as the pilot? Actually I will probably yell about that closer to the end

Parker being all emotionally cognizant and Nate just reciting physics formulas in response

God I love this bit (and I love that they are still including references to Nate’s alcoholism)

Just, Parker, the new mastermind, who doesn’t “let feelings get in the way” (like Hardison - this is the reason he can’t be the mastermind, much to his chagrin. He’s too much of a cinnamon roll)

Nate says she spins problems like puzzle pieces until they click, but I think it’s more like juggling all the fiddly bits inside a lock until it clicks open

HE TRUSTS HER HE TRUSTS HER HE TRUSTS HER!!!!!!!

Zachary is the lead! Love him!

Sophie saying she doesn’t miss acting at all 😏

She is a good director, though

"I'm exactly where I belong" I'm gonna die I am so happy for all of them

Oh no here we go

Cut right to Nate covered in cuts being interrogated about the mistakes he made

"Mr. Ford, how did your friends die?" CUT TO COMMERCIAL

This must have killed me the first time around

I do love this investigator though. I think I remember from the commentary that it wasn't originally supposed to be her, but it worked out really well

Nate looking around like he's confused (and trapped) while not being able to put together a full sentence (I'm not sure if I ever developed a solid headcannon for how much of this scene was him faking and how much was actual injuries from the actual crash) (I'm open to ideas!)

Ellen giving a vicious predatory little smile when she says that she's here to help him

I wish I could do gifs or screencaps or something. This is one of my absolute favorite callbacks! Parker in that little black bonnet thing jumping off a building having the time of her life and the boys do their "twenty pounds of crazy in a five pound bag" thing (whuch my autocorrect recognized as a phrase for some reason? Do I really yell about that but enough for it to suggest those words in that order? Fantastic)

But this time their faces and voices are full of affection. She may be an insane thief/mastermind, but she's OUR insane thief/mastermind

And coming after the white rabbit job where we had that line about how she's not and never has been crazy, the fact that you can tell they are saying this as a callback without meaning the crazy part is just perfect

It makes me wonder how many other times they have repeated this, because you can't convince me they haven't

Aah Sophie's horrible rendition of Lady Macbeth! Same speech, different ways of doing it just as badly (props to Gina Bellman)

Is this the same outfit? Hold on I need to check.

Y'know, I didn't think they changed that much physically over the years, given that they are adults, but going back to the pilot, I keep going awww look how tiny they were! (Especially Aldis. Like I know they had problems because he was getting too hot and ripped, but Damn)

Anyway, the dress is very very similar, same color and pattern, but it very slightly different. I will maybe post my very very horrible pictures after I finish this

Parker is so good at computers now that she has this adorably bored face when hacking! I love that they taught each other their stuff!

Using chaos as a distraction and co-opting the expected response as a cover! One of my favorite tricks!

Parker changing in the elevator! And the boys turning to give her privacy! And this isn't even the first time they did a callback to this! I love my respectful boys! Remember when Hardison turned the David around? So pure!

Ah, we are setting up for competency porn and then it all goes bad! Aah!

I love Eliot's little "wassup?" Before fighting the guy. Points for intimidation, Spencer

My stronk babies opening an elevator with their fingertips

And Hardison's recurrent fear of heights combined with Parker's love of them

She says "I got you" (twice)

Oh god Beth's acting in the elevator shafts

Oh I'm gonna cry

Oh and a "dammit Hardison"

Oh Gina's face

Even in a situation as tense as this, Eliot still takes the time to empty the gus and toss it away

I don't think I've ever seen him check for an ankle piece, actually. How has that not come up before now?

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

"Age of the geek, brother" I'm sobbing

I mean, so is everybody

Look at this acting!

I love that they didn't go for the clichéd established couple dying in each other's arms, but instead put Eliot in the middle, giving us our yummy hurt ot3 goodness

And Parker sitting up so she sees the other two go

Ugh. Where's that poetic cinéma image when you need it?

Anyone remember the perfectly timed bridge from the pilot?

What number Lucille are they on?

I love that they actually stop in from of the barrier at the bridge, then take a moment to decide before just going for the crazy impossible stunt because why the hell not at this point

Ah Nate and Sophie are holding hands on the way to death too!!

And cut the scene before they reach the top of the bridge. Time to see Tim show us why he's an academy award winner

Ooh and here's where we find out she was lying! (Should this be the part where I started wondering if Nate knew? Probably. Did I? Not even a little)

There was a big twist where the person Nate was facing off against was playing him in the pilot too

But John fucking Rogers didn't play ME in the pilot. I take that personally.

Ooh hints at the true story are being dropped

Ellen is almost adequately suspicious

JUST WALK TWO FEET FORWARD ELLEN! LOOK AT THE STAGE! COME ON!

"You loved them very much" Yeah he did. They all did! Aaaaaaahhhhhhhh!

She knows he's lying, I love that (just like Dubenich knew Sophie was manipulating him)

"The only thing I ever had"? That's intense, Nate

God Tim is a good actor

(Like I low-key don't like Nate at all, but Damn he is well acted)

And he just turns it off, just like that

Wow

I am really into her little impressed face when he goes all Sherlock and explains how he knows they are at interpol

The glass! Of course Sterling brings him the glass! Not a pilot callback, but a good callback nontheless. The commentary says it's literally the same exact glass every time. I will have to go back and verify that at some point. I swear it didn't have those ridges around the bottom in at least one episode, but I also trust John Rogers, so idk

I love how sterling knows everything from the moment he appears, and Ellen doesn't even know what the black book is

"That's why you joined Interpol? Screw justice. You're the order guy?" What a good line for Nate and Sterling's relationship

Nate's not even interested in hearing Sterling's evil speech of evil about the bailouts

I actually really love the little exposition flashbacks

Her look of horror and dawning comphrension when he explains why he is there is fantastic. If we bring this show back, can we have more of this lady?

Yeah, Ellen, why IS he still lying to you??

Sterling remembered to be cautious about the coroner's van, but not cautious enough!

That's some timing. How did Nate arrange that ? Oh right, this was triggered by the arrival of the van, which he probably set the timing of

Nate's face after "Parker's still in the server room." Yes, sell that fear to Sterling! Make him believe he's right! I wouldn't have thought to fake a reaction to that. But that's why I'm not a griffer

And he trusted sterling to have a snark remark so that he could have an attention-stealing reaction to distract him

I try every time to see the kids going in, and I never manage to catch all of them

Why does Nate turn away here?

God, that really is a terrifyingly lifelike Hardison face

I gotta say, the first time I saw sterling shoot the Hardison corpse, I was really convinced that he was right and he was really killing Hardison for the first time

"Second question... No, Nate, why don't you tell her what my second question is?"

Honestly, the first time around, I had forgotten about that secret meeting between Nate and Hardison

"The plan's the thing" A callback to earlier in this episode. I'm dying. I love this show so much

And they can do that without being annoying because every leverage episode is like three or four episodes rolled into one. Sometimes more!

That's one of my favorite parts, but also one of the very few downsides

I get so excited watching the flashbacks that show how it all happened

Omg I love the thing where they stack! Parker crouching, Eliot just above her head, Hardison looming tall! It reminds me of the princess bride for some reason

Sterling is the Trojan horse, the way out is the way in...wait, didn't they do that with at least one other episode, where the floor was a horrible way in, but last minute they used it as a way out?

Are these callbacks or parallels at this point?

Sophie taught Nate how to act! "She found her calling." Yeah she did! So proud of her!

"Your ride to a life sentence in a secret prison has arrived" So dramatic for someone who knows Sophie is behind the wheel

Ooooooohhh he called him James!

"You and I are not the same" okay sterling

"Justice is always easy" YES GO STERLING wait that's a callback to the justice vs order thing earlier in this episode. I just got that

I have seen this so many times and I still notice something new every time I watch it

Does John Rogers have a tumblr? I want to tag him but I don't think he does

What is Parker wearing? Why is one sleeve randomly yellow?

I can't believe Nate is proposing in a hoodie

I love how the kids pop in with insults and Nate just agrees. He knows it's true

That's a huge fucking rock

"Did you steal it?" "No." "Oh, cause that would have been more romantic"

"I'll steal the first anniversary ring" lol I love these guys

Parker insists he follow the proper procedure

Oh wait, the ot3 are gonna branch out with other crews?

Y'know, in an alternate universe I could have shipped Eliot and Sophie

GOD

I'M CRYING AGAIN

"You're the smartest man I know" where have we heard that before?

Parker recognizing her feelings! (And they've been preparing her for this the longest)

Aah, the circle shot from above and the breakaway, but this time not everyone breaks away!!!!!!!!!!

"You do know that Laura is not my real name, don't you?" Sophie I'm gonna kill you

And then the big obvious callback to the pilot, where Beth meticulously studied Tim's acting to recreate it

Loving the look of this scene. The costumes, the blocking, all of it

And they made sure to switch which parent was crying

Very excited for leverage international. Gimme!

[alittleleverage]

Leverage vs spiders

Nate has always been indifferent towards spiders. If it was somewhere easily reachable he would kill it and then not give it a second thought. Sam, however, was terrified of them and would run to his dad on the verge of tears when there was one in his room. The first time he kills a spider after Sams death he drinks an entire bottle of whiskey (not that it's much more than he was already drinking).

Sophie is disgusted by spiders, yes, but not scared of them. She'll flail a bit if one lands on her (gracefully, of course, she is Sophie after all), and if it's in her room she'll kill it, but other than that as long as she's not playing someone that's afraid of spiders she's fine. She's conned men who had pet tarantulas before and has played it both ways, interested or revolted, and both worked out for her getting what she wanted from the mark.

Eliot knows every breed of spider that he sees (they're very distinctive) and isn't necessarily scared of them, but if he's alone and a freaky looking one catches him off guard he will flinch. He respects what they do for the ecosystem but he doesn't like them in his space. He moves them to his garden to help control the pests, but he does it with a cup so he doesn't have to touch them.

Hardison hates spiders. One crawled across his monitor while they were working a job and he yelped and almost spilled orange soda all over Lucille 3. The entire team froze in the middle of the con, unable to ask if he was okay in front of the mark, but after killing it with an empty soda bottle (and then throwing the bottle as far away from the van as he can, littering be damned) he goes back to talking and hacking. Later, when asked, he says 'there was a giant spider, man!' and snarks back when they get on his case, but he does feel a little bad about scaring everyone.

Parker likes spiders; they're good at sneaking and going in to small spaces. She's used them to freak out security guards while stealing things, and she always tries to not squish them if she sees one in the vents. If she needs one moved she will pick it up and move it (and talk to it as she does). She ends up being the designated spider getter for Eliot and Hardison, and they won't let her touch them again until she's washed her hands.

[poetloveses]

May I Kiss You Now?

    “Hurry up, we’re going to be late!” That was the first thing Hardison heard that morning. All he wanted to do was sleep in. Today he should be allowed to, he thought.

    “Five more minutes,” Hardison called out to the voice.

    “No, now,” Parker said as she walked into the room.

    “Why do we gotta get up so early for,” asked Hardison.

    “We have a lot of stuff to do today and,” she giggled as she got closer to him, “you need a shower first. You stink.”

    “Uh, woman, I don’t stink. This is a manly smell,” replied Hardison.

    “Whatever, just take a shower and meet downstairs for breakfast,” Parker said as she was walking out the door.

    “Do I at least get a kiss first,” Hardison asked.

    Parker turned back and looked at Hardison. She gave him a little smile and said, “You should have thought about that before you slept in.” Then she turned and walked away.

    “Dang girl, how you gonna deny me like that,” Hardison said to the now empty room. Oh, well, he thought and got up to shower.

    Hardison headed downstairs after he showered and got dressed. He walked downstairs and smelled something good cooking. Eliot must be over, he thought. He loved Parker but she couldn’t cook like Eliot. He walked into the dining room and saw Parker munching on some toast. He sat down and poured himself a glass of orange juice.

    Eliot walked out the kitchen with two big plates of food. He sat them on the table and took a seat across from Hardison and Parker. “Everybody dig in,” he said as he put some food on their plates.

    That was it, thought Hardison, nothing else. No good morning. No how did you sleep? Not even a hi. Just everybody dig in. Had they all forgotten what today was. No, they wouldn’t forget. 

    “Hardison,” Eliot said shaking Hardison from his thoughts.

    “Yeah?”

    “Eat up. There is a lot to do today and we need all hands on deck. Do you know what today is,” asked Eliot.

    Hardison smiled, “Of course I do.”

    “Great,” said Eliot, “We need to really get this place cleaned up and stocked. It takes a lot of help for inventory day and spring cleaning.”

    “Inventory day,” Hardison said questionly.

    “Yeah and spring cleaning. I’ll be in the back most of the day cleaning the kitchen and freezer. All the staff will be here later to help with cleaning and organization. I need you and Parker to run and order all the supplies we are running low on,” Eliot said.

    “Remember, babe, I told you this all last night,” said Parker.

    “I don’t remember you saying anything last night,” Hardison replied.

    Parker just stared at him. She was hurt that Hardison didn’t listen to her last night. Hardison hated that look. “I’m sorry, Babe, but I thought today would just be a relaxing day,” he said.

    “Why,” asked Parker, “Eliot said he needs all hands on deck.”

    “Nevermind,” Hardison replied, “Where do we have to go?”

    “Good,” replied Parker, “Grab your keys and let’s head out.”

    Hardison went to give Parker a kiss and she just stood up and headed to the door.

    Hardison was checking his phone for messages while Parker placed another order for Eliot. No new messages was written across the top. He didn’t get it. No messages, no voicemails, no phone calls. He thought he’d get a bunch today. But not a single one. He even took his phone apart to make sure it was working. It was. Not even his online buddies had messaged him. He was disappointed. On top of it all Parker hadn’t given him one kiss today. They were too busy running around.

    Parker came back and said, “Are you ready?”

    “Yeah, where are we going next,” he asked disappointedly.

    “Is something wrong,” Parker asked.

    “No, just a little tired,” replied Hardison.

    “Are you sure,” Parker asked. Hardison just nodded. “Okay, we’ll go back to the Brew Pub, get something to eat, and watch some Netflix in bed. Does that sound good to you,” replied Parker.

    Hardison nodded. Then he started Lucille up and they headed back to the Brew Pub.

    Hardison pulled Lucille up to the Brew Pub. Parker had ignored him the whole way back. She spent the whole time on her phone. He couldn’t see what she was doing and it made him nervous. As they got out, Hardison noticed the lights were off. They had been gone for hours and it was late in the evening. “Why are all the lights off,” Hardison said.

    Parker looked up and said, “Hhm, they must have finished early and went home.”

    Hardison stood there for a minute and thought she was probably right.

    Parker thought he was taking too long and said, “Will you open the door? I’m starving.”

    Hardison laughed and went to unlocked the door. They stepped inside and the lights came on. “Surprise!” yelled a bunch of smiling faces.

    Hardison stood there in shock as Parker went to stand next to Eliot. Next to him was Nate and Sophie. He couldn’t believe they were all here. Aimee and the rest of the staff were standing around the tables. The room was decorated with balloons and streamers. Above the bar was a sign that said, “Happy Birthday, Hardison”. They did remember his birthday. He was almost in tears.

    “You all did remember my birthday,” was he could manage to get out. 

    Parker came up to him and said, “We would never forget.”

    He hugged her and people started moving around the tables. Eliot and Aimee went and grabbed the food and started passing it around.

    A few minutes later, Hardison noticed someone he never expected to see. He got up and walked over to him. He was sitting at table with Archie Leach, Parker’s ‘father’. Hardison put his hand on the guy’s shoulder and the man turned around. “Chaos,” Hardison said.

    “Hardison,” replied Chaos.

    “Wouldn’t have expected you here,” said Hardison.

    “Yeah, I heard over the web, they were throwing you a surprise party. Okay, I may have hacked into people’s emails. Anyway, I had to come to see the stupid look on your face when they yelled surprise. Man was it stupid,” Chaos said, laughing at the end.

    Parker walked up next Hardison and said, “Remember what I said Chaos. If you can’t be nice you’ll have to leave and Archie may pull his taser out again.”

    Chaos turned and looked at Archie. Archie just smiled at him and Chaos gulped. “I promise to behave myself,” Chaos said turning around. Then he looked at Hardison and said, “Happy birthday, Hardison.”

    Hardison laughed and said, “Thank you.” Then Hardison and Parker headed back to their table.

    On the way, Parker asked, “Did you really think we forgot your birthday?”

    Hardison looked at her and said, “I should have never doubted you. I’m sorry.” He gave her a squeeze and said, “May I kiss you now?”

    Parker laughed and said, “Yes, you may.”

    Hardison gave her a kiss and then they joined Eliot, Nate, and Sophie back at the table. Hardison loved his family and will never doubt them again.

[secretlystephaniebrown]

The Red Room Job

Parker is a Red Room escapee. Years later, she and the team encounter Natasha Romanov on a job.

I don't know, I've had this idea about Parker being from the Red Room for a long time, and I wanted to play with it a bit. And then Eliot got involved, and well. Things got complicated. First time writing for Leverage, but it was a lot of fun! Hope you enjoy!

Also on Ao3

When Eliot first meets Natasha Romanov, she’s calling herself Nicole Richards and they’re after the same target.

The unfortunate man is a former member of the Russian mob who has managed to piss off enough people that two separate organizations have hired both the Black Widow and Eliot Spencer for a considerable price.

They meet on a rooftop outside of the target’s apartment, and size each other up.

Eliot isn’t fooled by the name she introduces herself as. He’s heard of the Black Widow; he knows her reputation. She knows his as well, and she’s as curious about him as he is about her.

They’re professionals. They compromise. Sure, there’s an itch beneath both their skins to experiment, to see which of them could win in a fight, but the process would be loud and messy, and could alert the target. Better to work together. They’re both on salary, not fighting for a bounty as it is. There’s no reason to compete.

They kill the target cleanly and quickly, send evidence to their employers, collect their payment, and share a bottle of excellent wine in a Parisian café.

“I wouldn’t mind working with you again,” she says, and it’s a lie.

Neither of them are built for teamwork. Neither of them are wired for trust. They could handle this one time because it was better than fighting (and possibly killing) each other, but no more.

(Neither of them are sure who would win)

Maybe they will work together again. They clink their glasses together and smile at the possibility.

They both doubt that it will ever happen.

Both of them start to think about how they would kill the other, choreographing out the fight in their minds.

Eliot is grifting.

The mark is a wealthy businessman who’s been stealing college funds and draining savings accounts, leaving plenty of families in painful places. Luckily for them, he also has a taste for art, which leaves him plenty vulnerable to Nate’s machinations.

Eliot is playing a distinguished art dealer with an impressive collection. (Most of it assembled from Sophie and Parker’s stashes.) The mark is on the hook, and now Eliot just needs to lure him to the warehouse, where he’ll be caught with a stolen painting. Then the police will come crashing down, and he’ll go away.

Normally, this is Sophie’s part, but she’s playing a rival bidder this time around, so it falls to Eliot to play this role.

The final stage for the con is a fancy charity gala the mark is attending and Hardison managed to score Eliot an invitation to. Eliot’s taking his time, drawing it out. It needs to be natural. The mark knows who he is, knows what he’s selling. Sophie’s going to be walking in soon, pretending to make her bid, and then he’ll panic and approach Eliot.

He’s flirting with a pretty young actress when he sees her.

Natasha Romanov.

And she’s looking right back at him.

Her hair is blonde now and she’s wearing a ridiculous dress that’s meant to distract, but she’s armed to the teeth and there’s recognition and surprise in her face, although well-hidden.

A few years ago, that wouldn’t be a problem, but now the entire criminal world knows that the Black Widow is an agent of SHIELD, and SHIELD is a problem.

They both turn away. Eliot’s heart begins to hammer in his throat as he snarls, “Nate, I’m blown.”

“What happened?” Nate demands.

“An old acquaintance of mine is here. We’re fine, but I’m not. I’m going to have to make sure she doesn’t follow me back to you guys.”

“Can’t you shake her?” Sophie says.

“No. Hardison, I need you to do something.” He quickly underlines what he needs. An airtight cover would make SHIELD suspicious. They probably haven’t run him yet, because they don’t have a name, but they will as soon as possible.

They can’t know about the team. The last thing they need is to get on SHIELD’s radar.

He takes out his comm and puts it in a pitcher of water. No way for SHIELD to use it to trace the others.

He takes two flutes of champagne and carries them over to her.

“Long time no see.” (Not since a bar in a small town in Idaho, where he’d been playing body guard to Sophie’s latest character and pretended he didn’t know about the SHIELD issue earpiece in her ear. He couldn’t get away with that anymore. Everyone knew about the Black Widow changing sides now. She’s been noisy, these past few years.) He smiles his most charming smile at her. “Ms...?

“Natalie Rushman,” she says with a smile that’s perfectly charming and completely deadly.

“James Cortez,” he says. His smile is the same as hers, although probably less pretty.

She accepts the champagne and pretends to drink.

Parker divides her life into categories.

There’s before the Red Room. That time is a blur. Her memories overlapped and contradicted each other and blurred around the edges. There were lullabies and smiles and fire and kindness and death.

Out of all of her memories, she knows only three things for sure.

Bunny had been there the whole time.  

She had a brother.

He had died on a bicycle and it was her fault.

Then there is the Red Room. That part of her life is painfully clear in her memories. There were lessons and people who looked at her with eyes that saw too much and handcuffs and not enough food and needles.

Parker didn’t like to think about it.

Then there was after the Red Room. Foster Care and running and exploding houses, and being chased and always running, never stopping.

Archie finds her, after foster care. Archie changes everything. He teachers her, and there are rewards instead of punishments and there is a warmth and he is hers. He knows, too, he knows enough about the Red Room. He hides her, gives her a new name and a new reputation. No one will ever draw the connection between the skinny runaway and Parker, the master thief.

In the Red Room, she had been ordinary, slated for death, to be killed by the top of her class at some point down the line. She would never have been a good Widow, she had heard her teachers say it. She’s too soft,  

But she is the best thief.

And then there is the Crew.

She doesn’t know how to think about what happens after that. She doesn’t want it to end. She wants to keep going forever and ever. Now has Hardison and Eliot. It has Nate and Sophie. Now has Lucille and helping people and learning new things.  

But when she looks over Hardison’s shoulder and sees a familiar face with Eliot, Parker knows, suddenly, that things are about to end anyways, no matter what she wants.

When Eliot Spencer first meets Clint Barton, they’re both soldiers.

Eliot is almost done with his first tour and already knows there’s going to be a second. His gun is comfortable and familiar and it feels good to have a flag on his soldier. His hands aren’t clean but they’re also not quite dirty. The blood hasn’t soaked in yet. He hasn’t realized it’s starting too.

They’ve been sent out on a dangerous mission with the men he calls his friends (they’ll all be dead within a year). They’ve been on dangerous missions before. But this is the first time the brass sends a special sniper.

Clint Barton is young (too young to be a killer, possibly too young to be a soldier) but his hands are steady and his aim is true, so Eliot and the others like him well enough. He keeps to himself, but he does his job and keeps them alive and keeps watch and beats them all at darts.

Eliot and Barton exchange maybe a dozen words over the course of the mission. Then the mission ends. Barton gets reassigned and Eliot’s tour finishes.

They both forget, and think nothing about it until years later.

Criminals like to talk hypotheticals, matching each other up against each other or against law enforcement. Could Hardison hack Tony Stark? (Sometimes.) Could Parker break into Fort Knox? (Yes.) Could Sophie Deveroux infiltrate SHIELD? (She has. Multiple times.)

Who would win in a fight, the Black Widow or Eliot Spencer? (That depends.)

Everyone in the Red Room knows Natalya Romanova. She’s the best of the Widows, the best one ever produced. Each group produces one Widow, and one Widow only. Most Widows die after a year or two.

No one knows how long Romanova has been a Widow. She’s mysterious and distance, and she’s only seen by most of them once a year, when she goes through the ranks, and picks two students. She kills one to demonstrate some advanced technique, and then she takes the other on a mission. That student will return, covered in blood and silent, and excel in their lessons for the next year.

Parker is called Tatiana, in those days. She’s pretty sure it’s not the name she’s born with. It doesn’t quite fit around the edges, chafing like the cheap clothes she wears. When she gets away from the Red Room, she sheds it immediately. She’ll go through many different names before she settles on Parker, with Archie’s help.

(Archie finds her, and he knows what she is. He used to know a Black Widow, he tells her. Her name was Dottie. It’s because of Dottie that he keeps her away from his family. Because the Red Room will kill his family, if Parker is there. Parker understands. He’s protecting them. He trains her to be a thief, and that’s more than enough.)

Tatiana is known as Tanya to those familiar to her. (Those are few and far between. Tanya’s friends die a lot, in the Red Room.)

Tanya is not the best at fighting, but she is easily the best at sneaking. She always has extra bread for herself, and sometimes for the others if she’s feeling generous, and none of the teachers have ever caught her. By the time she is nine she can escape the handcuff that keeps her to the bed, although she usually doesn’t, because she does get caught there, sometimes.

The Red Room is tough, and it’s made Tanya tough. She wakes up early and dances until her feet bleed, she fights until she is covered in bruises, she learns languages until her tongue is numb. Tanya is bad at the other lessons; pretending to be other people is hard for her, lying is hard, killing is hard.

Tanya slips away during their reading lessons in Japanese. She can get away with it in that class; the teachers don’t count the students in the back, only the front. Tanya knows that Marianna, who is the best student in her group, will be killing again tomorrow. Tanya wants to know who. She wants to know if it’s her.

Marianna is pretty and tall and black haired. She is also cruel and hard, never weeping once, not even the first time she was told she was the best of the students, and told to kill one of the others. She is terrible at ballet but excellent at killing and fighting. She will be an artist instead of a dancer, their teachers say. It is a pity that she cannot dance, but not everyone can be Natalya Romanova.

The names are in a box in Nicolai’s office, and Tanya knows her way in there easily.

It’s that day when she meets Natalya Romanova. Natalya moves like a dancer, her muscles liquid control and danger. Her hair is red, long, and beautiful, her eyes cold and impassive. She’s not armed, but that doesn’t mean she’s not dangerous. Tanya has heard every rumor, has memorized all of them and used them to scare the younger group of Widows when she used to break into their room to visit. But they’d started to tell, and there’s only so many Widows who look like her, so she stopped visiting.

Natalya comes into Nicolai’s office, and Parker nearly doesn’t hear her, nearly doesn’t hide. But she does, and she thinks Natalya didn’t see her, because she doesn’t kill her, doesn’t call her out. Instead, Natalya sits in one of the chairs, has a drink with Nicolai, and then leaves. It would be nice to think that Tanya is good enough that she could evade the gaze of the famous Black Widow, but she’s not sure if that’s true. But maybe Natalya Romanova knows what Tanya knows, clutching the sheet of paper to her chest.

Maybe she knows that Tanya will be dead tomorrow.

But if she thinks that Tanya will accept that, she is wrong.

Tanya escapes that night. She hasn’t tried to run since she was small, so they won’t expect it. It had been stupid to try and escape then, but the experience had been informative, if painful. She knows now, what they will do. She can take precautions.

She breaks open the door to the youngest Widows, the ones she hasn’t visited, the ones too young to know better than to run. She undoes their handcuffs and then breaks the window to wake them up. They scatter in all directions without questioning her, seizing the chance she has given them. They’ll mask her trail, she hopes. And maybe a few will even get away.

She never finds out what happened to them.

Alec Hardison meets Clint Barton when they’re both kids. Clint is drifting, and Nana brings him home for supper, piling his plate high with all kinds of food.

The table is crowded; it always is. Neighborhood kids and Alec’s foster siblings and Nana’s two grandkids all sit, elbows jostling. The food is good and there’s enough of it to go around. There’s been even more lately, since Alec has started siphoning off money from Janey’s bio-dad’s account. Nana had been mad at him, but Alec argued it’s child support.

Money’s not so good that Nana couldn’t make good use of what Alec stole, but her lips get thin sometimes, when she thinks about it. He promises her he’ll get a real job, help her pay the bills legally. He’s not the oldest; the oldest of Nana’s kids is old enough to have kids herself, and the oldest of the foster kids was already grown by the time that Alec had shown up in Nana’s life.  They all help when they can, but Nana’s heart is just too big. She’s always helping people, always taking more.

Clint doesn’t talk at all during dinner, just eyes everybody suspiciously while he bolts down his food. He’s about sixteen, a few years older than Alec. Nana tells Alec while he’s clearing plates that Clint just got out of jail after getting into a fight.

Clint won’t stay, Alec knows that. He has all the age and wisdom of his twelve years of age, and so he walks up to Clint Barton and asks him where he’s going to go next.

The guy practically jumps out of his skin, then squints at Alec. “I’m going to join the army,” he says.

It’s Alec’s turn to squint. “You’re too young.”

Clint’s chin goes out. “I’ll manage.

Alec shrugs. “If you’re sure, I’ll get you the papers.” He can too. Faking IDs is one of the easiest things he’s learned to do. He makes good money that way, but for one of Nana’s strays, he can do it for free.

Clint Barton stays for the full week, giving Alec the time he needs to fake all the paperwork, digital and physical. Nana takes the opportunity to feed him up, but Alec never gets the story out of him. Not that it matters.

He sees Clint off at the end of the week, papers in his bag and a grin on his face.

Natasha Romanov pauses the moment she sees Eliot Spencer.

He’s dressed in a suit, the image of respectability. He even holds himself differently; he’s learned to change himself, to blend in. (Grifting, it’s grifting, but Natasha lives in a world of spies, not cons.)

He sees her too, and he has the same panic that she feels on his face for a single moment before he conceals it.

Her mind races, going through the guest list. Who could be his target? He has to know she works for SHIELD; her work with the Avengers has scuttled her anonymity on that front. She’s good enough that she can still go undercover, but being made as the Black Widow means everything’s blown.

He turns away, and for a moment she thinks he’s running. She loses him in the crowd for a moment, before he returns, walking towards her, holding two flutes of champagne.

His smile is pretty as he offers her a drink. Poison isn’t his style, but there’s no reason to take risks. They exchange the names of covers, pretending as if both of them aren’t coiled, ready to strike.

He’s very good; he wasn’t like this last time they’d met. His accent is buried, his posture is different. Whoever he’s been working with has taught him well.

She wonders who he’s here to kill. He’s apparently off Damien Moreau’s leash, but he could be working for anyone. The rumors surrounding his activity these past few years have been… odd, to say the least. There’s enough targets that he could be here for any of them.

But he’s as jumpy as she is, despite his cool exterior. He leans in, against her ear, and whispers in her ear.

“Shall we get out of here? No reason anyone else should get hurt.”

Eliot Spencer is a man with the strangest of honor codes, she thinks. He hates casualties, unless they’re specifically ordered. He’s no stranger to them, but he doesn’t want it here. Perhaps he thinks he can beat her, return to the party, and kill his target, and no one will be any the wiser. Arrogant. In her ear, she hears Clint hissing, telling her to take him out to the alley so he can get a shot.

Natasha inclines her head, and leads him. He follows, even though he has to know SHIELD would have at least sent a handler to go with her.

The moment they’re out of sight, they’re on each other. Hands go to throats, and they slam against the walls of the outside building, each scrambling for control of the fight.

He’s good, he takes hits like they’re nothing. She’s almost offended by this, this and the fact that he can actually hit her. He knows how she fights; he’s probably watched videos. But she knows how he fights, and the two of them keep at it, each of them going to incapacitate, not kill. He must know killing her is at the least highly unlikely, and if he could succeed, it would only bring SHIELD crashing down around his head.

(Natasha Romanov has a ledger dripping in red ink. Eliot Spencer has the same. It does not occur to her that he is also trying to blot it out.)

Finally, she has him pressed up against the wall of the alley, a knife to his throat. “Who are you here for?” She demands.

“No one,” he croaks. She snarls, wordlessly. “I’m on retrieval, that’s all.”

“I don’t believe you,” she says. “But SHIELD will get the truth out of you.”

It seems wrong, that Natalya has dyed her hair blonde. She is red, in Parker’s mind, seared that color. Not red like blood, not red like rubies or paint, but a horrifyingly dangerous human red. Red like the Red Room.

Everything’s gone wrong; the Black Widow is here, SHIELD is here, and it’s okay, everything’s okay, they’ve got a plan. Black Widow will take Eliot into custody, she’ll break him out on his way to the holding cell, Sophie will have to sell to him directly, but that’s okay, Nate’s already setting the scene.

But then Hardison sees a sniper on the roof, and Eliot is in his sights.

Parker knows that Natalya is supposed to be a good guy now, but Eliot is a bad guy, and Natalya is the kind of good guy who doesn’t have a problem with shooting bad guys like Eliot. Parker cannot let Natalya hurt Eliot.

Nate would have a plan, but Hardison is yelling in her ear, and all Parker can think about is Natalya, watching as they kill each other. Parker wants to run, like she used to do, every time the Red Room found her, before Archie hid her so well that she couldn’t be found. But if she runs, Eliot might be hurt. And Parker can’t let that happen.

Parker bursts into the alley, and throws herself at Natalya Romanova, the terror of the Red Room, the Black Widow, and pulls at her hair and scratches at her face.

“Run!” She yells at Eliot, who doesn’t, because he’s Eliot, and he instead attacks Natalya too, fighting like he’s scared, all swinging fists and desperation, trying to keep himself between Parker and Natalya after Natalya throws her off her back.

“Tatiana?” Natalya breathes, when she catches a glimpse of Parker.

Eliot swears, and attacks Natalya again. “Parker! Run!” He yells at her.

Natasha sees red when she realizes that Eliot Spencer is here with Tatiana.

Tatiana, the girl who ran, the girl who ran so fast and so well that the Red Room thought she was dead, willingly exposing herself to a Black Widow to save him meant one thing.

He was her handler.

Eliot Spencer was a man who did not balk at blood. She had seen records of the things he has done, especially for Damien Moreau. His bloody past is almost as bad as hers. He was willing to kill children.

He is definitely the sort of man who would have worked for the Red Room, had he been born in another nation, in another time.

She lunges for him, thoughtlessly going for the kill now. Rage fills her being. How dare he?

“Parker!” He yells again, and she grits her teeth. He changed her name? “Parker, run, goddamnit, why don’t you listen?”

“I won’t leave you with her!” Tatiana yells, and she’s grown up, Natasha thinks. She’s so different from the skinny, scared child she’d once seen slipping around the corners of the Red Room.

“Damn it Parker!” He throws a trash can at Natasha, and she sidesteps it neatly. Only then does she realize that Clint is silent in her ear, and fear rushes through her.

This is so much bigger than she had realized. She knocks Spencer to the ground, and prepares to advance. Her temper has cooled. She’ll take him into custody, get answers about who has had Tatiana, who has managed to keep her hidden from the Red Room and SHIELD alike for over a decade.

But there’s a blur of action, and Tatiana is between her and Spencer, fury in her eyes.

“Tatiana,” she says, making her voice soft. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Parker,” he growls. “Run.”

“She has a sniper,” she says.

“Of—of course she does, Parker, she runs with Barton!” He snaps. “I had it under control.”

“She was going to kill you,” Tatiana insists, and Natasha says nothing. There is no reason Tatiana would think otherwise. She’s misjudged things. Spencer talks to Tatiana… like a partner. She talks to him the same way.

Things are different. Eliot Spencer does not work with partners, would not look at a woman like Tatiana with such concern, would not be the kind of man who Tatiana would try to protect.

“Tatiana,” Natasha says, not sure what to make of this.

“Parker,” she spits, her face twisting t her old name. “My name is Parker.”

“… Parker,” she accepts. The name is familiar, but she can’t place it, not now. “He’s hear to kill someone. I can’t just let him do that.”

Parker twists to look at Eliot. “Are we killing him now?” She says, honestly curious.

“No Parker,” he growls.

“Oh. Good. Because we don’t do that.” She nods seriously, then turns her attention back to Natasha.

We? Eliot Spencer has never worked with people, he’s famous for it. And since when is he part of a we that doesn’t kill?

Is he trying to change? She wonders. Is Parker his Clint?

It’s then that she realizes that Clint not only still hasn’t responded, but Coulson hasn’t asked for a check-in either. Her hand goes to her earpiece. “Report? Report!”

“Sorry,” a voice drawls from the end of the alley. “We’re in control of the radios.”

She spins. A man in a tacky suit stands there.

“It seems like there’s just been a misunderstanding, Agent Romanoff,” he says. His accent is thick, butchering her name. “Our business here is done.”

“Is it?” He’s smart, she realizes, watching him. He’s like Coulson, planning, seeing, evaluating.

“It is,” he says. “In fact, if you hurry back, you’ll probably be able to still ensure that Mister Johansson will open that safe. Although,” he adds, thoughtfully. “Waste of time; he moved the plans last week.”

Her stomach drops. “How could you know that?”

“Because we are very good at what we do,” he says. The pattern on his suit is almost blinding. “Parker. Go get the car.”

Parker moves away from Spencer. (She brushes against Natasha for a moment, and Natasha knows that there will be something in her pocket when she checks later.)

“What am I supposed to tell SHIELD?” She asks, curious.

“You tell them that you happened to run into the famous thief Parker, and her bodyguard, Eliot Spencer,” the man says, hands in his pockets. “She made off with some very expensive jewelry, and you were able to disable Spencer, but he was rescued by Parker when you had to return to the ballroom. “Where,” he holds up a piece of paper. “You discovered where Johansson had moved those plans to.”

Parker, the thief? It all makes sense now; the mysterious, odd thief.

“Clint’s been watching,” she points out.

“He’s already agreed,” he says, like it’s simple. “And there we go, Agent Romanoff.” He drops the piece of paper to the ground. “A nice, clean solution.”

“What were you really after?” She asks.

“Well. Parker did steal some jewels,” the man hedges. But then he smiles. “We just emptied a rich, corrupt man’s wallet. No concern of yours.”

He’s telling the truth, Natasha thinks. She inclines her head, and moves to let Spencer stand up.

“A pleasure, Agent Romanoff,” the man in the awful suit says, walking out of the alley.

Spencer gets up, inclining his head to her. He doesn’t begrudge her the victory, it seems. “No offense,” he says, and his southern accent is back in full. “But I hope I don’t see you again.”

“Same,” she says.

And then he leaves. Her comm flickers back to life, and Clint is swearing, grumbling about snot-nosed kids who know too much. She doesn’t say anything, just checks her pocket. A phone. It’s pre-programmed with a single number.

When the mission is done, and she’s sitting in the hotel room, holding the phone.

She should just throw it aside. Parker is a thief, there is no reason that she should contact her. But…

Natasha longs to know more about the girl she had once known. She wants to understand, to see how it is that Parker has found this little makeshift family. The names that Clint has given her beat through her mind. Eliot Spencer, Alec Hardison, Nathan Ford. And Coulson has given her one more, the one she didn’t meat. Sophie Devereaux, who had been in the party, and hadn’t left until the others had all left. A famous con artist and swindler, or, as Coulson called her, a “grifter”.

What had happened, to the little girl who had been so good at sneaking, and when did she become the world’s greatest thief?  

She makes the call.

“Hello?” Parker’s voice says. She sounds wary, but she also sounds alone. Natasha wonders where she is. What is her life like, this other girl, who understands the urge to handcuff herself to the bed some nights?

“Hello,” Natasha echoes. She tries to think about what she should say next.

Finally, she settles on. “Do you want to meet sometime to get coffee? I’d rather catch up in person.”

Parker seems to hesitate. “Sure,” she finally says.

Natasha takes a deep breath, and feels herself smile.

It’s a start.