#sorry Sophie and Nate don’t make much of an appearance

[crazynerdandproud]

Leverage/Psych crossover ideas

Shawn and Elliot are cousins. They havent met because Henry is estranged from his sibling who is Elliot’s parent. Team Leverage does a job in Santabarabra while Shawn and co are in the middle of in unrelated murder investigation. They come within mere seconds of crossing paths several times until finally Parker runs into Lassiter. They both see someone do something dumb and mutter the same thing under their breaths. They hear each other and catch eyes. They have a short talk where they bond over being autistic coded. Then they go their separate ways, fully expecting to never see the other again. Yeah, they thought the other person seemed cool but neither of them are really in the market for more friends

The Leverage team finishes their con successfully and leaves town. Somehow the bad guys manage to learn Elliot’s name. Wait, Spencer? Like the psychic? They look into it and yeah turns out they’re related. They kidnap Shawn to get to Elliot and then call Sophie or rather Sophie’s alias and say hey guess what? We’ve got your cousin and unless you undo the damage you did and give us a bunch of money we’ll kill him.

Elliot is confused at first before he remembers yes, he does have a cousin who is from Santabarbara. Didn’t know he was psychic though. (Not that he’s sure he believes that) So they turn around and head back to Santabarbara.

Naturally since Shawn was kidnapped Lassie and Jules are on the case. (And Gus)

At first their are no leads. They have no idea why Shawn was kidnapped. Then, they find security footage and manage to link it back to the same company whose ceo Lassiter arrested for fraud the day before. They aren’t sure what the connection is, but it’s there.

Then team Leverage gets back to town. They team up with the Santabarbara crew and rescue Shawn. (Possibly Elliot intentionally gets himself captured because it’s the quickest way to find Shawn and then takes the bad guys out while Shawn is standing is standing in the background like “wow my cousin is badass!”)

Sidenote: Shawn gets his kidnappers to spill the beans on what’s going on and they tell him about how his cousin framed a guy for fraud. Shawn recognizes that for the half truth it is.

During the time looking for Shawn Parker befriends both Jules and Lassiter. (She goes with her fbi cover, which Hardison has officially made almost full proof in its authenticity.) or not. Idk.

Gus and Alec would obviously love going undercover together. Alec finally has someone who will go along with his dramatics easily, like it’s any other day. Gus meanwhile is used to working with Shawn and is having a blast, cause its very similar. Obviously it’s different then Shawn and Gus, I mean Alec and Gus just met, but its an equal tug and pull of power. They are both just grounded enough that neither one of them is the crazy one, but neither are either of them the completely normal levelheaded one either.

Maybe at the end, Henry reaches out to his estranged sibling or something. As for Sophie and Nate? Well Sophie can’t get involved because she was already the public face of the con. And Nate is intimidated by chief Vick, but he doesn’t tell anyone that. By the end only Shawn and Gus know that the crew are thieves. Lassiter and Jules know something is fishy about them, but hey, it’s probably just fbi stuff. (Plus Jules reached out to her brother and Ewan said Elliot is a good guy.)

Thanks to @duckapus for kickstarting this idea by your leverage psych crossover post

[thieves-never-say-die]

Leverage/Red Notice crossover. Hint hint nudge nudge.

Oh believe me anon, I’ve thought about this a LOT (which is why it took me so long to respond I’m sorry lol)

First things first it has to be Redemption-era Leverage, I’m sorry Nate but you’re dead, rip. Like I’m all for fucking with timelines and shit but honestly the Redemption team would work better with the Red Notice trio, and we’ve seen how well Nate works with other thieves (@ the Two Live Crew Job and Last Dam Job 👀)

Obviously they meet on a job somewhere, both teams have independently infiltrated a museum-gala-thing with the intent to steal the same item for slightly different reasons (Booth & the Bishops know the guy who owns the item is an ass so they’re stealing it from him because they can, meanwhile the Leverage team is doing it as part of a whole con)

Sophie and Sarah would both immediately clock each other as a thief of some kind, but they wouldn’t know who exactly they’re talking to, so it would turn into this intense back and forth of pretending to be civil while hinting that they’re the better thief and will win in the end, meanwhile Hartley and Eliot are glaring each other down and hoping this doesn’t come down to a fight because it would be one messy fight (though Eliot would win in the end, I’m sorry Hartley but the only thing that can knock out Eliot is a carnival ride and even you don’t have that power)

Breanna is back in the van trying to run facial recognition on them but is having an annoying amount of trouble with it because despite appearances Booth is surprisingly good at erasing his digital footprint

Parker is sneaking around in the background while Harry distracts the mark, and Booth is dressed as a waiter trying to wait for an opportune moment to sneak away. Something something shit goes down and Booth and Harry get kidnapped by the mark. Eliot gets in his “it’s a very distinctive (fill in the blank)” which takes Hartley by surprise because hang on, he’s heard that before, is that Eliot fucking Spencer??? Before he can say anything they all have to split and run off to their respective bases, which is when they realize one of their team has been kidnapped

Cut to Booth and Harry chilling in some basement somewhere, tied to a chair and patiently waiting to be rescued because let’s be honest they’ve been through this a few times now. They make small talk and generally annoy their captor because they don’t know each other and have decided that this is the perfect time to get to know this random person they’ve been kidnapped with. It turns into this vague sort of one-upmanship of “oh my team is better, they’re the most infamous thieves in the world” type of thing where they’re both bragging and showing off the things they’ve done

So now the Leverage team and the Bishops actively seek each other out so they can work together to rescue their people, which is when they finally learn each others names. Cue “holy shit that’s The Bishop?” and “holy shit that’s Sophie Deaveraux/Parker?” respectively

Anyway once they actually team up together there’s literally no stopping them, Eliot and Hartley take down entire teams of goons like it’s nothing, and they both do the stoic quiet thing really well so while they’re fighting there’s only the occasional “nice punch” thrown in there. Sarah and Sophie get to distract the mark even more, and when the two of them are teamed up you cannot say no, it’s literally impossible, so of course they get what they want and somehow manage to steal the thing they were after in the first place. Parker sneaks in to rescue Harry and Booth while the others are all being the distraction. Which is when Booth gets his “wait you’re The Parker?” moment as well. And Parker offhandedly compliments one of Booth’s random ass heists (yes he will ride that high for years to come thank you very much)

They get the item and get out, and there’s a moment of tension because both teams want the item, but then the Leverage crew explains why they want the thing and what they’re trying to do and the Red Notice crew are like “oh that sounds dope actually” and are all for it, maybe find a way to get in on the fun and be part of the gloat because that’s always the best part

In the end they part ways as equals and acknowledge that they have a base of trust now, and with a sort of vague open invitation to steal things together at some point in the indeterminate future

[schrijverr]

Hold Me Together

Chapter 2 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

~~~~~~~~~~

Pull Me Close

When he awoke the next morning, he was pinned down by two warm weights at his sides. He kept his breathing steady, as if he were still asleep while he assessed the situation, before last night came back to him.

He felt a heat rising to his cheeks as he cracked open one eye to look, the other having swollen shut throughout the night. It was indeed Parker and Hardison who were pinning him down and he knew he couldn't sneak out without them noticing right now. He was trapped and sooner or later he would have to face them again.

Quietly he sorted through everything, hoping to come up with a plan to make this less awkward for everyone involved.

If he moved now, they would wake up and know he was awake and he would have to talk to them, but if he pretended to still be asleep maybe they’d leave him alone, however that would be unrealistic, because he would never sleep through them waking up and it was creepy to pretend to sleep just so that you could enjoy laying in the warmth of your two coworkers that you were in love with without having to deal with the mess that made.

But, fuck, he was comfortable. More comfortable that he’d been in years. The pain had dulled a lot and he was warm and cozy under the sheets with Parker and Hardison there. Hardison snored softly and Parker’s fingers skittered over him in her sleep, almost miming a pickpocket.

It was something nice that he would never have, never deserve. And while it was selfish, he didn’t want it to end just yet.

Still, he had no say in that and all his thinking was for naught when his door slammed open and the familiar silhouette of Nate appeared, saying: “Ah, there you all are. It’s eight, we want to leave as soon as we can.”

“We’ll be there,” Parker chirped, having gone from fast asleep to awake in a moment. Nate nodded at her, before leaving.

On Eliot’s other side, Hardison was taking his time, burrowing his face into Eliot’s uninjured shoulder as he whined softly. Eliot couldn't blame him, they’d gotten to the hotel around three in the morning, so they’d had less than five hours if it was eight now. Still, the hot breaths on his neck were not good if he wanted to keep this platonic, so he poked Hardison and grouched: “Get off me, man.”

“Wha?” Hardison looked up, smiling in a way that made Eliot’s heart twist when he saw it, before he said: “Hey, it’s you. How you doin’?”

“I’m fine, slight headache and sore muscles,,” Eliot told him honestly. “I’ll be up and running in no time, now just get off me so that I can get up.”

“Your eye is bruised,” Hardison frowned, noticing the black eye that had been a light bruise a few hours ago.

“Yeah,” Parker agreed poking it and making him wince.

“Don’t touch it, Parker,” he said, leading her hand away from his face. “It’s fine, just a bruise that I forgot to cool, it’s nothing. Now stop pinning me to the mattress.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry, man,” Hardison got off and Eliot could see the other man was just wearing sweatpants nothing else and his face got a bit hot again, so he looked to the other side, only to discover that Parker was in nothing but a shirt and underwear. God either loved or hated him very much.

So, instead of focusing on them, he focused on getting to a sitting position, pleased to find he could do that on his own.

He was still in Hardison’s hoodie and his own sweatpants and he really didn’t want to change. This was comfortable and warm and it would be easy to take off at home when he was by himself again, which twisted something cold in his chest. Besides he could always wash it and give it back later, an excuse to keep it for a little while. He asked: “Hey, man, can I keep this for today?” as he rubbed the sleeves between his fingers, trying not to think how sad it was that he wanted to keep it, just craving a bit of comfort for today. He still felt groggy and generally uncomfortable.

Hardison looked over, a strange look coming over his face when he saw how the sleeves fell over Eliot’s hands, before he nodded: “Yeah, course.”

“Cool, thanks.” Now this was just getting awkward, so Eliot swung his legs over the side of the bed where Parker had been, since she had disappeared a few seconds ago.

Before he could stand up, however, Hardison was crawling after him, nearly toppling off the bed, before he said: “Wait! Stop. You can’t just do that, Eliot. Your ankle is hurt.”

“Me and my ankle will live,” Eliot informed him. It would be slightly painful to walk, but not impossible.

“Just let me help for a moment,” Hardison asked, quickly pulling on a shirt he found on the floor, before offering a hand.

Eliot rolled his eyes at the fussing, but he was also selfish enough to allow it. It was going to be over soon anyway, why not enjoy a bit of contact? Hardison wanted to help, so it wasn’t taking advantage of it, and not putting any weight on his ankle would be a smart move.

So, they made their way downstairs, with Hardison carrying Eliot’s bag and laying his hand on Eliot’s waist again, while Parker met them at the elevator, her and Hardison’s stuff in hand almost as if they’d planned this.

He tried not to think about it as Hardison led him to the table where Sophie was sitting, before telling him he was to stay there and that Hardison would get him a plate from the buffet. Once he was gone, Sophie leaned over and asked: “So, good night?”

“Was fine,” he replied, eyeing her suspiciously after she’d grinned at him and flicked her eyes towards Hardison and Parker. Had she figured out his feelings? Was he being obvious? Did she think something happened between them? Trying to play it cool, he added: “Got more than 90 minutes of sleep for a change.”

“Oh, your productivity out the door like that,” she teased, luckily dropping any suggestiveness and prying.

“I was productive in healing my body,” he shot back, hiding his relief.

Sophie frowned at his face, cocking her head. “I can see that,” she said sarcastically.

“Come on, Soph, this is not my first black eye,” Eliot said. “My stitches are clean, my ankle is wrapped, my shoulder is back. I’m as good as I can be, little swollen eye is nothing. Could be much worse. Has been in the past.”

At that point Hardison came back with a plate of stuff Eliot actually liked, which touched him more than he’d liked to admit. He put the plate down in front of Eliot, inserting himself into the conversation: “Is he trying to tell you he’s fine by telling you everything that’s wrong with him and reminding you that he’s had a shit life?”

“Yes, it’s not really working,” Sophie said, before Eliot could protest that it was useful, because he was reminding them this was his job and it was okay, that he was okay and taken care off, because all his wounds were clean and it wasn’t that bad.

Instead of saying all that, however, he shoved a fork of food into his mouth and glowered: “See if I ever tell you about my injuries again.”

“He’s grouching, that means he’s okay, right?” Parker asked, poking his cheek again.

“Stop that, Parker,” he snapped, not really mad at her, because he was weak and would do anything to make her happy.

“Jup, he’s okay,” Hardison said, smiling and Eliot wanted to smack him, but he was right and cute, so he couldn’t. “And he’s telling us about his injuries next time.”

“Or we’ll force him!” Parker added enthusiastically.

“Was it that bad?” Sophie was immediately worried again and Eliot wanted them to stop fussing, because it felt weird and twisty in his chest when they did and he hated that he didn’t know what to do with the feeling.

“No, it wasn’t, I’m-” he got cut off by Hardison, who said: “He was kinda out of it for a bit, but nothing we couldn't handle. He was a bit grumpy about the whole thing, but he’s always like that. We just need to keep his leg up and as cool as we can during the drive and he should be set. Probably sleep a bit on the way too.”

“And how am going to sleep in that crappy van?” Eliot grouched. He wanted to protest it all, but no one was listening to him, so protesting seemed a bit redundant. Besides it was hard to be mad at them about it when it seemed like they all cared about his well being and the twisty feeling in his chest was only getting twistier.

“Excuse you, Lucille is a beautiful lady and you will treat her as such,” Hardison began. “And second off, you can sleep in the backseat. There’s a storage area between the front seats that you can rest you foot on. Promise me and Parker won’t bother your little nap.”

“I’m not sleeping in the van,” not between the two of you, he added mentally. “And why don’t I get to sit up front? Don’t I have injured rights?”

“No, there’s more space on the backseat and Nate’s driving and you’re horrible when Nate drives,” Hardison explained.

“I’m not horrible when Nate drives, he just sucks at driving,” Eliot frowned.

“He turned on his blinker once and you got annoyed, because it was too early, Eliot,” Sophie pointed out.

“Yeah and what about that time you said he switched lanes wrong,” Parker said. “You were very scary. You’re not even that scary when I drive and everyone hates my driving.”

“I can’t help that Nate can’t drive,” Eliot crossed his arms.

From behind him Nate’s voice said: “I’m glad you think so highly off my driving skills. You’re in the back seat, I don’t need you to grouch at me for hours about holding the steering wheel wrong or whatever you come up with.”

Eliot had registered him coming up behind him, but he didn’t care that Nate heard. He wanted to be mad about being injured and unable to fight, but he wasn’t able to, so he was going to be mad about something else and right now that was Nate’s driving and being in the back seat. He frowned (frowned, not pouted, Hardison): “I’m still gonna yell at you from the back.”

“Sure you are,” Nate said as he started to walk off with a cup of coffee. “Our mark has officially been taken into custody and the victims have been repaid. I want to be home before dinner, so buckle up everyone.”

They grumbled and groaned about it being too earlier to pack up, but no one stayed seated. This time it was Parker steadying him while Hardison carried all their stuff to Lucille.

Getting back into Lucille was another problem and Eliot was glad Nate and Sophie had already gotten into the van, because this was embarrassing enough as it was without onlookers.

Hardison had to support him fully on the left side, where his injured ankle was, but not his ex-dislocated shoulder, while Parker physically put his uninjured foot into Lucille. Then Hardison hoisted them into the van with Parker making sure they wouldn't fall back, until they were in and they could shuffle forwards and get seated.

Eliot was determined not to be visibly injured, so he crossed his arms and planted his feet on the ground, before staring ahead, vowing to keep his one, not swollen eye firmly open for the entire ride.

His plan was ruined by Parker the moment she settled on his other side, because she leaned forwards and put his leg on the little platform and right as he was about to protest, she put a bag of ice cubes on his foot and that actually felt really nice, so he cut himself off with a soft, grumpy thanks. She smiled: “Of course,” before handing him another ice cube bag for his eye.

Still, he could be awake and grumpy about everything, even when they were treating him like he was terribly injured, which he could understand after the fucking spectacle he made of himself last night. So he just told Nate that he shouldn’t pull up so fast, which earned him a glare from the man through the rear view mirror that he ignored.

Parker was on his right fiddling with one of her locks while she gazed out the window. Hardison was on his left and tapping away on a screen that was moving too fast for Eliot to follow. It was peaceful and they talked with each other softly, though Eliot didn’t have the energy to add his own commentary.

He felt bad about being in the middle of them again when they had already missed each other last night because of him. They hadn’t even seen each other during the job either with Hardison on tech support and Parker running between stealing and grifting.

He didn’t know how to bring it up that he wouldn’t mind switching with Hardison so that they could be next to each other and he could lean against the window. It wasn’t that he was tired and wanted to lean against something, he just wanted to have a clear line of sight, that was all.

The ice was slowly melting, until he had two bags of water and they were nearing their first stop, where Nate pulled over. Sophie would be driving the next stretch, because car-safety and all that jazz.

“Want me to get you anything?” Hardison asked when it became clear that Eliot wasn’t leaving the van.

“Nah, I’m good,” he said. “Maybe switch places with me? I can’t lean against anything in the middle.” He didn’t add: ‘and I’m sure you missed Parker,’ partially because he knew it would have come out sounding bitter and that was something he did not need to deal with, both mentally and in real life.

Hardison raised a brow. “And where are you going to rest you foot if you’re on the left? And I know you ain’t going to be on the right, I heard your shoulder that shit was just wrong.”

“I’ll be fine without resting my foot anywhere. Dammit, Hardison,” Eliot frowned, not sure why the hacker was even fighting him on this.

“You can lean against me, promise I won’t draw on your face,” Hardison said, before walking away so that Eliot couldn't reply. Parker skipped up next to him and asked about the drawing on the face with a bit too much glee.

The words caught up with Eliot and he could feel his cheeks getting warmer, which he pushed down immediately. Hardison had offered it so casually, like it wasn’t weird at all that he was turning down the offer of sitting next to his girlfriend so that Eliot could lean against his shoulder. But maybe Eliot was seeing things where there was nothing, he was injured (minor injuries but that didn’t seem to stop Hardison from worrying), so it could just be a normal offer. It wasn’t as if Hardison hadn’t fallen asleep on his shoulder from time to time.

It wouldn't be weird, he didn’t need to make it weird. Besides, he didn’t needto take him up on the offer and lean on Hardison. He could just not sleep and keep on looking forwards. Yeah, that was a plan.

Soon the others came back, piling into the van once more, with Parker shoving two cold things in his hands as she proudly proclaimed: “They sold ice packs!”

“Oh, thank you, Parker,” he smiled at her, starting to lean forward with a grunt only to find one of the ice packs stolen and being placed on his foot again. He nodded his thanks to Parker, before settling down against the backseat and putting the other ice pack against his eye.

The swelling had gone down already with the ice cubes from the hotel, but the fresh coolness of the ice pack was still welcome.

On his other side, Hardison said: “I managed to convince her not to take the markers, so you’re welcome.”

“And who gave her the idea in the first place,” Eliot shot back, getting an idea. “I’m not risking it by sleeping. You never know if she doesn’t have them anyway.”

“Come on, man, you need the rest,” Hardison tried to argue.

“I already had more sleep than normal, Hardison. I’m fine,” Eliot replied. He did feel tired, but he wasn’t admitting that.

“But I promise I don’t have the markers,” Parker inserted herself into the conversation as well, showing that she only had some hundred dollar bills in her pockets along with some earrings that weren’t hers and a small stuffed mushroom.

“You literally just asked me if we could switch places so that you could lean against something,” it was clear that Hardison wasn’t believing him.

“I thought that you would want to sit next to Parker, sorry for trying to be nice,” he huffed out the truth, hoping it would get them off his back. They stayed silent, so he called out to the front: “Soph, can we please listen to something else, I am so not in the mood for opera.”

Sophie did change the station to something more generic with less high notes that made his head hurt, even if she grumbled: “Someone’s in a mood today.”

He snapped back: “You try getting beat up on a regular basis, see if you’re still sunshine and rainbows after.”

“No, for real, man, you’re never this grouchy,” Hardison frowned, trying to subtly check him over and failing on the subtle part. “Is something wrong? What’s going on?”

“Is there an alien in your stomach controlling you?” Parker asked with wide eyes.

“Dammit, Hardison, I told you not to watch those stupid alien movies with her,” Eliot focused on something other than the uncomfortable questions Hardison had asked.

Because yeah, he was more grouchy than normal and something was wrong, but the something that was wrong was the fact that he had discovered that he was in love with his two best friends and now he was stuck on an eight hour car ride between them after they had seen him vulnerable and he feared that they would catch on or that he was coming between them and it was all the confusing twisty things he had tried to avoid and didn’t want to talk about.

Grouchy didn’t entirely cover that.

“Uhm, excuse you, alien movies are a staple of American culture that everyone should get to experience, so don’t even start there, also you didn’t answer my question,” Hardison told him, leveling him with a stare.

Eliot now had a choice. And it was easily made. “I have a huge headache, Hardison,” he sighed a partially lie, before going on with a whole lie, “I have a headache, I barely slept on the last con and you’re all very loud. I don’t need anyone’s fussing, I just wanted to sit quietly and everyone is making it really hard.”

“Thank you for being honest with us,” Parker said and it was obviously something she’d learned from Sophie and Eliot felt guilty about pretending to be open about his injuries a bit, just so they would get off his back.

“Yeah, man, we’ll be quiet,” Hardison added.

Hardison turned back to his screen and Parker to her locks and Eliot tried not to miss their soft chatter as he closed his eyes and tried to find his zen place.

After how much he’d insisted he wasn’t going to sleep, he was slightly embarrassed that the next moment he was waking up, having been asleep for some time. He could tell Sophie was behind the wheel, which meant he either hadn’t been asleep for long or they were on the last two hour stretch home.

He now registered that the ice pack on his foot had was cool again and the one on his cheek was held in place by someone – Parker his mind supplied – but he was leaning against something, someone, else with his other cheek. He was kind of groggy and he struggled to wake up, blinking bleary until he heard Hardison’s voice near his left ear: “Hey there, finally joining us in the land of the living again, huh?”

“Wha?” he was still feeling disorientated, the headache was much worse than when he’d drifted off and his muscles were sore, he was also cold and his throat ached slightly in the background. He levered himself into a sitting position and tried to take a deep breath to wake up, only to find his nose stuffy.

No.

Fuck no.

It all clicked into place after a second. The confusion, the chills, the headache, sore muscles and throat and then also a stuffy nose. He was sick. He had managed to get himself sick.

“You okay?” Hardison asked, obviously concerned and Eliot felt guilty about having been asleep on his shoulder after everything, as well as guilt because that couldn't have been comfortable and Eliot just cozied up to him again, even when he knew Hardison had a girlfriend. A girlfriend who had been holding his ice pack for him.

He owed those two so much in just the last 24 hours alone, not to mention the past few years. That was something he couldn't pay back and he had treated them like shit and had caught weird feelings for them and gotten in between them.

Tears came to his eyes and he blinked them away as a hole started to eat away at his heart and he couldn't fully push that down, even if he tried.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that his too emotional state of being was due to his lower defenses since he was sick. He felt too exhausted to fight it, but did it after a moment anyway, replacing it with enough grumpiness to be believable.

“‘m fine,” he mumbled, trying not to make his sore throat obvious as he rubbed his eyes in an attempt to wake up. They didn’t need to know he was sick, they would only worry. He would disappear when they got home and come back when he felt better again. “Are we near the brewpub yet?”

“Yes, you slept for so long, it was a bit boring, but your nose whistled and that was funny,” Parker informed him. “Hardison was trapped under you the entire ride.”

Now at that he did blush and avoided Hardison’s eyes as he softly apologized.

“No worries, man, you obviously needed the sleep,” Hardison assured him. “And I wasn’t trapped under you the entire ride, we managed to lever you over to Parker’s shoulder when Nate took Sophie’s place again. We only switched you back last stop.”

“I didn’t wake up?” Eliot asked, frowning, he must be sicker than he thought.

“Slept like a baby,” Hardison said. “Are you sure you’re okay, man?”

“‘m fine, I already said that,” Eliot grouched, trying not to let show how much he wanted to not be okay and wrapped up in a hug or a blanket or something. He was the tough one, he couldn't be weak, because his job was being strong. Just hold on, Eliot, he thought, then you can crash on your bed.

“Your voice sounds off,” Parker observed, “more gravelly than normal. And you didn’t wake up in a second and your eyes are still drooping.” She cocked her head, before her eyes got a knowing gleam in them. He was made. “Do you feel hungry? Or are you nauseous? Are you in any discomfort? Cold, perhaps? How’s your headache?”

“Hey, mama, why don’t you give the man a rest,” Hardison came to his defense. “You’re kinda overwhelming him with questions right now.”

“When has Eliot ever been overwhelmed?” Parker shot back and Eliot cursed her observation skills, there went his plan to hide until he was better.

“What are you getting at, baby?” Hardison frowned.

“She figured out I’m sick,” Eliot snapped, before Parker could tell him. “And I’m right here. No need to talk about me like I’m not.”

“You’re sick?” Nate asked. “How long has that been going on?”

“I only noticed it when I woke up,” Eliot replied, remembering one of Nate’s rules. “I would have told you if I was sick on the con. I wouldn’t have put you all in danger over me being sick, you know that.”

“Is his wound infected?” Sophie asked and before Eliot could tell them that no it was not, because he would have noticed that, two small calloused thief hands crawled under his shirt, feeling at the bandage, before lifting his shirt to inspect it. Parker reported: “The wound is fine.”

“Do we have supplies for soup at home?” Hardison asked.

“I think we have a blanket for him somewhere under the chairs,” Nate said.

“Oehh, we can build a pillow fort!” Parker exclaimed.

“I’m right here,” Eliot grouched, he didn’t need their care. Craved it? Yes. But he didn’t need it and he wasn’t going to let them. He was supposed to be invincible and while they were long past believing that, he couldn't let them see how pathetic he was. “And I don’t need a damn blanket or soup, or a pillow fort. I’m just a bit under the weather and I am fine on my own. I’ll take a few days and then I’m good to go, don’t be so dramatic.”

Hardison looked him over, then looked at Parker and raised his brow in an ‘are you hearing this guy’ manner, before he said: “I can be as dramatic as I want to be.”

“What? No,” Eliot said. “I’m the sick one and if I say I’m fine and you gotta stop being dramatic about it, then you stop being dramatic about it. Simple.”

“Sure, simple,” Hardison said, pulling out the blanket and teamworking with Parker to get it around his shoulders. “Except I worried my ass off last night because you could hardly walk, or even stand on your own and you dazed out constantly while trying to tell us you were fine. So when it comes to you telling me you’re fine, I’m not really trusting you, alright.”

The blanket around his shoulders was warm and he wanted to burrow into it, but he wasn’t giving in so easily.

“Dammit, Hardison, I said I was fine. I don’t need any of your fussing near me, alright. I’m not incompetent. It’s not even that bad,” he yelled, snapping because he had no energy to do anything but snapping or giving in at this point. And giving in wasn’t an option.

“I know you’re not incompetent, Eliot, we all do,” Hardison said, Parker agreeing: “Of course we don’t think that, you’re skilled.”

He crossed his arms and looked away. He knew they didn’t think he was incompetent, they wouldn't trust him with their lives otherwise, but that could change at any moment. He’d seen it happen before, so he wasn’t risking it.

“And I’m also hearing a lot about you don’t needing anything, which I also believe,” Hardison went on in a tone that had Eliot’s guard up. “But I ain’t hearing nothing about wanting. And we care about you, man, how many times have I got to tell you that? We want to take care of you, even if we know you don’t need it.”

“I don’t need anyone playing nurse,” he protested again. It was weak and he knew it, but he had to protest, he had to warn them without explicitly warning them, because that would also be a weakness and- His head hurt and the thoughts in it were swirling and confusing him.

“That kinda looks like a lie to me,” Hardison said, looking him over with concern in his eyes. “And you’re again talking about needing not wanting.”

“Are you okay, Eliot?” Parker was also not happy with his face it seemed, but he knew he must look like a confused, sweating, hurt mess, with a swollen eye and a shivering frame. He had even pitifully burrowed into the blanket without even realizing.

“I’m- I’m- I don’t know,” he finally admitted. He was just tired and upset about feelings he couldn't place. He wanted to crash someplace warm and not have to think for a moment. “I don’t know,” he said again, voice unsteady. “It’s- I- I can never want something. ‘s a weakness.”

If he was paying attention, he could have pinpointed when Hardison’s heart broke by the look in his eye, but instead he was distracted by Parker pulling him into a hug as she said: “I get it, but Hardison taught me how to feel stuff and you taught me how to like stuff, we can teach you how to be taken care of.”

“I think that’s a great idea,” Sophie’s voice was slightly fake in her enthusiasm as it came from the front seat, cutting off any half-formed protests from Eliot.

“Me too,” Hardison quickly agreed, throwing an arm over Eliot’s shoulder and pulling him close, until he was leaning against his chest, Parker on his lap like a pretzel. “We’ll teach you how to be taken care off and then you can work on your verbal explanations by teaching me how to make soup for you from the comforts of a bed.”

“Wha- I don’t-” Eliot’s mind was too confused to properly fight the argument, he somewhere knew needed to be fought, while also not wanting to fight it.

“It’s been a lot of don’ts from you, just accept it, alright?” Hardison said, pulling him closer and he wanted to protest again. Really, he did. But he was also very comfortable and warm and he was tired and they’d be home soon. He could fight them again when they were home.

In the end, it turned out that fighting them when they got home was a terrible plan. The sleeping had left him groggy and Nate and Sophie had already disappeared, leaving him with just Hardison’s comforting chattering and Parker’s puppy eyes. He couldn't drive home in this state and both had refused to drive him and he already had a room above the brewpub, so he could go home tomorrow if he felt like it and-

And he gave in, the great Eliot Spencer, defeated by cute little eyes and too many arguments about a comfortable bed nearby. What had his life come to?

His life had come to waking up in a soft bed, that Hardison had managed to get exactly right before he’d even arrived in Portland all those months ago, with a sore throat and muscles, while being nicely warm on his right side where a bony elbow was wedged into his side, while on the other side there was a consistent, comfortingly familiar tapping noise.

He blinked blearily and groaned when a wave of nausea rolled over him, before a coughing fit overtook him. Parker’s warmth disappeared, but Hardison’s voice came: “Hey, hey, you’re alright, you’re alright.”

A glass of water appeared and he took it gratefully, sipping it slowly and letting it sooth his throat and wash away the itch at the back of it.

“You’ve been clonked out for the past few hours, about sixteen. How you feeling?” And Eliot was grateful that Hardison knew him well enough to first tell him how much time he’d lost before asking him about his state.

“I’m fine,” he replied, but his voice was barely a whisper.

“That response is really ingrained, isn’t it, huh?” Hardison said, but there was no judgment in his voice.

“Oehh, is that one of the things we’re teaching him to stop with? Like how I had to look further than the alarms in a museum?” Parker piped up.

“Yeah, exactly, mama,” Hardison’s smile was obvious when he talked. “He can start by telling us how he really feels.”

And Eliot was honestly too tired to follow the conversation, so he gave up on trying and just answered honestly: “Like I’ve been hit by a motorcycle.”

“Not a truck?” Hardison asked.

“No, motorcycle hit is very distinctive.”

“You and your distinctive,” the mutter was more for Hardison himself than him, so he ignored it. “Parker, baby, if I go get the soup, can you make sure he doesn’t drop off again. He needs to eat if he wants to recover.”

“Of course, I’ll keep watch!” Parker saluted and Hardison left the room.

Eliot let his eyes close, content to just lie there, but Parker obviously thought he was falling asleep again, because she poked his right cheek where the bruise was. It was less tender than last time, but still sore, so he hissed: “The fuck, Parker.”

“I need to keep you awake,” she said with wide eyes and he wanted to roll his, but that would make her sad, so he just sighed and leaned back into his pillow, this time with his eyes open.

“What happened?” he asked, trying to put together the little bit of information his brain was willing to give him.

“Well, you were out beating people up in the rain,” she launched into an explanation, “and Hardison says you don’t actually get sick from the rain, but you did get sick and me and Hardison are taking care of you, but you were really grumpy on the drive back, but then you fell asleep. And your nose whistled.”

He let her voice wash over him as she went on.

“But then you woke up and you were really sad about something, but also grouchy and then Hardison did his thing, where he gets people and has like the voice that tells him what you need to hear. He and Sophie both do it, it’s fascinating, he’s teaching me how to do it too. And you gave in, because you wanted to, but you didn’t want to tell us, so we had to crack your emotion safe with our words and now we’re going to teach you how to be taken care of,” she finished.

Wait what? He had put most of the pieces together and part of him had only partially questioned why they were in his bed, but he hadn’t remembered this. He thought they were just here to see if he woke up again and now that he had, he could throw them out of his room (going to his apartment seemed too hard at this point), but not this.

Before the freak out could fully set in, Hardison entered with a bowl of steaming soup. “Here you go, chicken noodle soup, the best for when you’re sick and homemade,” Hardison grinned. “I really want to say by us, but we set a pan on fire and then asked the kitchen staff to make it.”

He wordlessly accepted the soup, still trying to figure out what was going on exactly, how he felt about it and how he would get out of it.

Yeah, okay, what the fuck had his life come to?

~~

A/N:

I really like the idea of Eliot being fine with the insane driving off Sophie and Parker, because it’s at least functional in a getaway situation, but he can’t stand Nate’s just below average driving (personal headcanon) in an everyday situation. It tickles me.

Also I know that Lucille doesn’t have a backseat bench, but the vibes were too good so just go with it

[gatefleet]

Collared Leverage

White Collar & Leverage x-over: Neal Caffrey, June, Mozzie, OC, Leverage Crew Word Count: 1,166 (T)W: Ankle monitor? Requested: No A/N: I've been writing and re-writing and debating about this one for a couple of years now, I hope it works

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were in the middle of a pretty complex heist when you got a call from an unknown number on your phone. “Brooks,” you answered. You were slightly confused when a distinctly feminine and most definitely English voice rang down the line. “Hi there, I’m looking for a Neal Caffrey, I have a friend who’s interested in his talents. That is to say that we’d greatly appreciate his help with regards to a… particular matter.” You sighed. “Well, sorry to say, England, but Caffrey is a little… indisposed at the minute, is there anything I can help you with instead?” The phone clicked, signalling that the English woman on the other end had hung up the phone.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A couple of days had passed since the phone call from the mysterious Englishwoman, you hadn’t brought it up to Neal as he was pre-occupied by some FBI case. Honestly, it sounded way too legal for you to actually pay attention. You were sitting in Neal’s apartment with Mozzie trying to figure out how to trick Neal’s anklet into allowing him out of his 2-mile radius without alerting the FBI. That’s when June knocked on Neal’s door and said that there was a group of people here to see Neal. You and Mozzie looked to each other, he shrugged and made an excuse to hide out on the balcony until whoever they were had left. You sighed and told June to let them up.

You had just sat down with the group; a southern male with shoulder-length brunette hair, a blonde slim female, the English woman (whom you assume you had spoken to on the phone), a younger African-American looking male and an older male with wild, curly hair who looked as though he may be drunk, then Neal, finally, decided to make an appearance. He stopped, confused at first, then his eyes landed on the Englishwoman, and he smiled, “Hey Soph, long time.” It was your turn to look confused, “Neal? You know these guys?” You looked questioningly at Neal, this was when Mozzie decided to re-enter the room. “Not all of them, but Ms. Devereaux here, definitely.” Neal smiled as Sophie got up to hug him.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After Sophie and the eldest male (who identified himself as Nate) had explained their situation, that they had been conned by some guy to steal plans from their real owners and sabotage what backups they had, they were ready to get even. Neal, Mozzie and yourself listened to their story and looked amongst each other. “Damn, you guys don’t do things by half measures, huh?” you joked, the long-haired male gave a small smile at that. When Neal was asked if he’d be willing to join them to help with the plans to get even, he shook his head apologetically, “As much as I would love to join you on another adventure Soph, unfortunately it’ll have to wait a couple of years,” Neal half joked as he gestured towards his ankle to show Sophie his new jewellery. “My, my, my Mr. Caffery, I never thought I’d see the day you got caught by the feds.” She looked a little dis-heartened. “Yeah well, we can’t all run forever,” was Neal’s, slightly shrugged, reply as he leaned back on is couch.

After a couple of hours of the teams, youngest and most tech savvy member (Hardison if you had recalled correctly) combing through how Neal’s anklet worked to see if he could find something that you and Mozzie had missed. It turned out that the make and model made it pretty much unhackable without the FBI being alerted and was too new for Hardison to have any real information about the product. This meant that Neal would be completely unable to leave and help out Sophie. You left the room to get some air and finish the painting you had started on the balcony, keeping the doors open so you could still hear the conversation and participate. That’s when you heard Neal mention your name. “Y’know, just because I can’t go doesn’t mean that you guys are completely out of options,” you re-entered the room cleaning your hands of paint with a rag looking intrigued, “Deanna, you’re always saying that you’re looking for something different to New York. Why don’t you go in my place?” Neal smiled at you. You and Mozzie both looked at him, “Neal? Are you being serious? I can’t go, you guys need me here!” you started to complain as you walked out onto the balcony again.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To say that you were going to kill Neal when you next saw him was an understatement. You had been dragged out of a con with Neal and Mozzie to travel to, God only knew how many miles, to help complete strangers with a case that you knew virtually nothing about. Not your idea of fun. You were use to working alone. The aim of this particular job was to destroy some guy’s reputation because he had set up the team, you weren’t exactly sure why you were needed now, your skills as a forger didn’t really have any impact on this particular situation. It turned out that what they needed was two grifters, you and Sophie, someone that this, Dubenich guy hadn’t seen, hadn’t recruited.

You weren’t entirely certain what you guys had achieved other than the incarceration of Dubenich – and the leaking of his files – but you had to admit, as strange as this team was, it kind of worked. You were all given an envelope with a cashier’s cheque inside and when you saw the amount on the cheque, your eyes nearly fell out of their sockets. The money on the cheque alone was more than enough for you, Neal and Mozzie to retire on – not that you were going to let them know you had it. You all looked at one another after reading your respective cheques and walked away. The job was done. There was no need to remember faces or names, and besides, it was strange having a team to rely on and share some of the roles with. You were too settled with the fact that you had to play every role and you were good at them, but you excelled at grifting and forging.

So why did you catch yourself slowing down and considering telling them to give you a call if any of them required your help in the future? You were a lone wolf. Your norm for a heist was you, yourself and you, occasionally Neal and Moz, but most normally you. When you went to chase down the Nate guy to let him know, you found that, apparently, you weren’t the only one thinking about how well you all worked together. Nate reluctantly agreed to give each of you a call if another opportunity to work together arose. So, with that, you all exchanged numbers and walked away, just awaiting a call that could come at any time, on any day.

(GIF Credits; White Collar: @aragarna Leverage: @leverageepisodegifs)

[incorrectatotcquotes]

Hello everyone! I haven’t been very active lately, so I thought it was time to make a really long post to make up for it. And when I say long, I mean really long.

There are lots of references to A Tale of Two Cities in Cassandra Clare’s The Infernal Devices, and I wanted to post this theory I have that some of Clare’s characters in TID might actually be supposed to mirror characters from ATOTC. I have already talked a little bit about it in a previous post, but I wanted to make a whole long theory, so here it comes. Major spoilers for both The Infernal Devices (and maybe all of Shadowhunters) and for A Tale of Two Cities ahead. And of course, I’m no expert, so there might be some factual wrongs, and these ideas are just theories. If you find any wrongs, please tell me about it :-)

Will = Sydney?

This one is almost already confirmed. It is mentioned several times in TID how similar Will Herondale is to Sydney Carton, even Will himself knows it. Will seems to be quite upset about it (understandable, if all the stories are true, it might not be very nice to read about your own decapitation), but accepts it as the truth. Will and Sydney have similar personalities, they both seem cold and selfish at first glance, but later on proves to be good people. They both save the main character from their imprisonment in the start, Will helps Tessa escape The Dark Sisters and Sydney manages to get Charles acquitted from the false accusation. Later on they both also sacrifices their lives to save said main characters, Will covers Tessa’s body to shield her from the exploding automaton in Clockwork Prince (he survives, but he is totally prepared to die) and of course Sydney took Charles’ place at the guillotine. Will and Sydney both die at the final chapter of book three (ensuring heart break for us all). As mentioned earlier, they are both quite unpleasant characters from the start, both being rude and mean to the main character, and as readers we are annoyed with them at first, but later on learn to feel sorry for them instead. In Will’s case, he acts the way he does because he believes that he has a magical curse placed on him, making everyone who loves him die, so therefore he must make everyone hate him. Will’s only friend is Jem Carstairs, who Will dares to show his real self to, and who is sick and dying. His solitude and belief that he is unlovable (plus his belief that he unintentionally killed his sister) has made Will depressed and self-loathing. Now, we recognise that, don’t we, ATOTC-fans? Sydney’s problem and the reason for his bad behaviour is his alcoholism and depression, which is not a magical curse, but it might be a metaphorical curse. He also hates himself, and believes that he cannot be loved. Then there is the unhappy love they both have. Will is in love with Tessa, and he does not know that she loves him back, mainly because she is engaged to Jem (whom she also loves, and I’m not going to explain the very complicated romance in TID, it would take too long, if you haven’t read it, I’m sorry for the confusion). Sydney is in love with Lucie, who does not love him back, because she is happily in love with Charles. Will also quotes and almost quotes Sydney at various points in TID, like “you kindled me, heap of ashes that I am into fire”, and calls ATOTC and especially Sydney ridiculous, which honestly sounds like something Sydney would agree with. But Will gets to survive and sort out his life, which Sydney never had the time to do, so I think Will might have that life that Sydeny thought he might have led if he had been a better person. There are other examples of how similar they are, but I realise that this is becoming less of a tumblr-post and more of an essay, so I’ll leave Will and Sydney at this. But my conclusion is that I think Will Herondale was indeed meant to mirror Sydney Carton.

Gideon = Charles?

I’ll try to make this part shorter. So, if we assume that the theory that Will is supposed to mirror Sydney is true, is it not a little bit strange that he appears in TID and Charles does not? After all, Charles is one of the main characters, and Sydney is a side character. But maybe Charles does appear in TID, just a little more subtly. I read some theory (though I can’t remember where) that maybe Jem was supposed to be Charles, and I can see where that is coming from, Jem being a loveable gentleman and everything, but some things just don’t add up. Such as Jem being proud of his family, and his loyalty never being questioned, and not least the fact that it has been confirmed that Jem is based on the poet John Keats. But if we see it from the other end, maybe a TID-Charles will appear. Charles Darnay was born into a very rich family and after his mother’s death he was thought to not show any sympathy to the poorer people his uncle (and his father) were taking advantage of. However, as a young man he realised that the family’s actions were wrong and fled the country, deciding to become a teacher and lead a normal life from there on. He married “beneath his status” and lived very happily with his wife, even though they faced hardships, such as losing a child. Charles is later accused of being an enemy of England, and later also of France, so whatever he does it seems none of the two countries fully trust him. This sounds a lot less like Jem, and a lot more like Gideon Lightwood. Gideon was raised by his father and not his uncle, and he came back to England after living in Spain, but pretty much all of the rest fits perfectly into his story too. He is born into the rich but cruel Lightwood family, and is the first of its children to leave it, after spending time abroad and understanding that what his father is doing is wrong, He is later on mistrusted both by the residents of the Institute (because he is a Lightwood) and by the Clave (because he openly disagrees with his horrible father). Gideon’s appearance does not match Charles’, however. Charles is described to be dark haired and dark eyed, whereas Gideon is described to have sandy-blond hair and green eyes. I would not think the characters’ physical descriptions were very important, if it weren’t for the fact that Will perfectly fits the description from ATOTC. However, Gideon’s physical appearance does match that of Charles Darnay in the ATOTC TV-series from 1989.

(Sorry about the terrible quality of the image). I think Gideon Lightwood might be meant to mirror Charles Darnay. 

Sophie = Lucie?

So Sophie Collins is a loving and accepting person, who still manages to not be naive, and to be brave when she has to. This is not really evidence enough to say that she is supposed to mirror Lucie Manette, because they are common traits in characters. I really do not have a lot of evidence for this part of the theory, it is more a feeling than anything else. But if we assume that the theories about Gideon and Will are correct, there are at least a few similarities between Sophie and Lucie. Sophie is happily married to Gideon, despite all they have had to go through together, such as the loss of one of their children. Both Sophie and Lucie are described as very pretty, and they both become the comfort of the people around them. I’d also like to mention that Will does proclaim his love for Sophie (like Sydney proclaims his for Lucie), when she has knocked Jessamine unconscious with a hairbrush, although maybe Sydney put his in a nicer way than Will did. Sophie also manages to stay strong through all of her problems, something that Lucie also does. So there is not a lot of evidence, but I would still like to say that I think Sophie Lightwood is supposed to mirror Lucie Manette, perhaps the Lucie we would have seen if nobody had been there to protect her when she was still small.

Tessa = The Seamstress?

Yes, I know what you’re thinking, but I’m not only going to base this part of the theory on her relationship with Will. If anything, it’s actually a pretty weak argument considering The Seamstress and Sydney only had a few hours together, while Tessa and Will were married for almost sixty years. However, I think there is some evidence that points to Tessa being quite similar to The Seamstress. I think that Tessa might mirror different characters and historical people, depending on who she is with, for example being the Fanny Brawne to Jem’s John Keats. But with the characters mirroring ATOTC characters, I think she is supposed to be The Seamstress. For this one I again have very little evidence, but bear with me. We know very little about The Seamstress, pretty much only that she is born a peasant in the French countryside but manages to make herself a seamstress in Paris, something I imagine would have taken an immense load of work and determination. She is an orphan, and the only family she has left is her cousin, whom she loves very much. She is only twenty years old when she is denounced to the revolutionaries and guillotined, although she is innocent, and we never find out who denounced her. Tessa is born a poor girl in New York, her parents died when she was very young, leaving her with an aunt and a cousin (Nate) whom she thought was her brother. When her aunt dies, Tessa moves to London where Nate is already living. She is stubborn and determined, and she loves her cousin, making her risk her life several times in the first book in the attempt of saving him. We never learn what Tessa did for a living, but I think (and this might be wrong) that she always seems to have an interest in clothes and fabrics that none of the other characters has. Again, that is only what I think, and it might very well be wrong, but it is not impossible that she might have been a seamstress before coming to London. Tessa repeatedly gets captured over the course of the story, and is deemed insignificant by some Clave members, and suspected to be working for the wrong side by other Clave members. Tessa’s cousin is the one who betrays her, and although we don’t know who betrayed The Seamstress, her cousin is the only person we know that she knows, so I would say that that cousin is a good candidate to have done it. She also describes Will (okay, so I did bring up their relationship again) as looking  angelic quite a lot, and Will calls her “Angel Tessa”, which I think might be a paralell to how The Seamstress and Sydney ask each other if the other was sent to them by God. So, there isn’t a lot of evidence, but I think Tessa might be meant to mirror The Seamstress, at least a little bit.

Sorry that this became such a long rant. Again, this is the theory of an amature, so it is far from perfect, and please tell me if you agree, disagree, or find any faults in my reasoning!

[sewellsheart]

Merciless Haze - Part 2/3

Summary:  She was ripped from her unconsciousness with such ferocity that she thought she must have been comatose as every one of her senses rushed towards her with agonizing vividity.  Her typically sensible mind was left flailing, finding itself too incapacitated to focus on any single thing. 

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Warnings:  Mentions of blood, death, vomit, detailed pain, and mental instability.

Word Count: 2.3k

Pairing: Nate Sewell x f!Detective (Sophie MacNamara)

Read on AO3 

“What if I was definitely going to die? As in, no ifs, ands, or buts, I was going to die?”

It had been a late night in mid-December when the topic had first been brought up.  Sophie’s drunken mind had never had much of a filter, and after the near year she had spent knowing Unit Bravo, she felt more open to asking the hard questions she knew they did not want to answer.  Well, all except Farah.

“I’d do it for you, I think we all would.” She had chirped, her voice almost too cheery for the conversation at hand, but gave a lightness Sophie appreciated.

Judging by the faces of the rest of the group, Sophie was not so sure the others necessarily agreed with the answer Farah provided for them.  Her eyes wandered over to meet Nate’s.  The gentle smile that had graced his face for a majority of the evening was now gone, replaced by a light frown and a furrowed brow, his fingers gripping the body of his wine glass so tightly she was worried he would shatter it.  She could see the questions floating in the back of his irises.  Adam spoke before him.  

“It would be a rash decision to make in a moment's notice.” He stated plainly before lifting his own glass to his lips, but even she could see the touch of caution he held in his stance.

“Then we can avoid that by making a decision now, no?” She pushed.

“I would hardly say you are in any state to be making choices as detrimental as those.”  His statement had been meant to put an end to the conversation, to allow someone else to jump in and change the topic.  Sophie persisted once again.

“For all you know I could die tonight and you would be regretting the fact that you allowed this conversation to be brushed off.”  

“Surely you have more faith in our abilities to protect you than that, Detective.”

“You’ve failed before.”  The words had flown out of her mouth before her mind could catch up and process them.  Rarely was she so forward, and never would she intend to hurt those she cared for most, but it appeared she had done just that.

The room had fallen almost completely silent, the only sound being the crackling fire that Morgan stood by, her face unreadable but her body tense.

“We have.”  Nate broke the silence, his voice hesitant, just above a whisper.  “That is something I’ll hold guilt for for the rest of my existence.”

A sentiment she had been aware of, but one she had never wanted him to hold.  Yet, there she sat in a drunken stupor, reinforcing his regrets and ripping every consoling word she had given him to shreds.  He had never liked it when she tried to comfort him about what had happened on that dreary early-spring night, but she meant every word she told him.  She felt like she had just taken it all back.

“You know I don’t blame you for that.  Not for a second would I ever believe that that was your own fault.”  Her words were sincere, but not enough.

“So do you blame us or not?”  Morgan had cut in.  Her voice was sharp, a tone that had become almost unfamiliar to Sophie in the past months since their trust for one another began to develop.

“No, I’m sorry I just-”

“Sophie.”  Nate’s voice was firm but held no aggression, only meant to gain her attention.  His expression softened once more.  “Let’s go to bed.  We can talk about this another time.”

She had nodded, knowing that he would likely never bring it up again if he could avoid it.  Nevertheless, she stood, taking his hand before making her way out of the room, but not before Farah offered her a reassuring smile.  Sophie could not bring herself to return it as she felt Morgan and Adam’s eyes follow her out.

Her sober mind would have brought the topic up gently, not try to turn it into some kind of morbid joke.  She wished she had never brought it up, especially in her drunken state, but the thought had been taunting her endlessly, and so she had allowed the whiskey to speak for her.

Her and Nate walked to her room in silence, his hand had moved to her waist, both to balance her and to keep her close.  This time, she broke the quiet just as they approached her door.

“Nate, please don’t think I meant it that way.  I was only-”

He silenced her briefly with a soft kiss, a gentle reassurance, both of his hands holding her face.  He rested his forehead against hers.  “I know what you meant, darling.  I know your heart.”  Another kiss, another interruption, another attempt at changing the subject.  “You need rest.”

“No, Nate, I’m not sleeping until you let me say what I need to say.”  She knew her words were slightly slurred, that her accent was thicker than usual, but her tone told a different story in regards to her coherence.

A pained smile of acknowledgement crossed over his handsome features,  “Of course.”  He turned to open the door to her room and entered, Sophie following close behind, attempting to gather her thoughts.  Nate closed the door behind her, his movements as tense as his tone had been, before he turned to face her.

Sophie was suddenly struck by his expression.  He almost looked tired, obviously dreading the conversation she was forcing them to continue.  A soft pang of guilt settled in her chest.  She knew he had been avoiding the subject, perhaps thinking that if he brought it up himself he would put thoughts in her head, and he had always valued her independence.  Almost as much as he valued her humanity, her mortality.

“I’ve been thinking a lot.” She started.  From there she did not know how to continue, how to tie every thought that had kept her awake at night, had her dreading even the thought of leaving the house alone.  “I just - I’m so happy Nate.  I have never been this happy in my entire life and I’ve never been so fucking afraid because of it.”

As a look of confusion claimed his face, he took a step closer to her.  “You’re afraid of being happy?”  His eyes were soft as they gazed over her face.

“No, God, no.”  She rushed to correct him.  “I’m afraid it’s going to end.  I’m afraid that one day I’m going to walk outside and someone will decide it’s the perfect moment to slit my throat, or shoot me in the head, or beat me bloody and then it will all be over.”

He reached out to hold her hand once again, disturbed by her words yet seemingly familiar with the thoughts.  She wondered if the same thoughts had kept him awake during the occasional times he chose to rest.  He let her continue.

“Nate, I’ve never cared more about my life than I do now.  I want nothing more than to spend the rest of eternity with you, and Farah, and Adam, and Morgan, and…” She trailed off, her voice beginning to crack as her emotions built up.  “ ...and I’m scared that I won’t ever get to do that.”  She felt the sting of tears in her eyes, and she let them fall.  

She had cried in front of Nate before, but not like this, not out of a rare genuine sense of fear.  She had cried about her lonely childhood, her near non-existent relationship with her mother, and the death of her father.  She had cried about things far more inconsequential, like too much stress at work, her dishwasher breaking while she was PMS-ing, and her car breaking down for the third time in a month.  Never had she felt so uneased, so disturbed by what should be the happiest time of her life.

He pulled her close to him, embracing her by her waist as her own arms entangled themselves around his neck, and leaned the side of his head against her’s.

She felt him open his mouth to speak, but this time she was the one who stopped him.  “I’ve never been afraid of death before.”

Nate pulled his head back to press their foreheads together once more, his brows knitted in thought and his eyes shut tightly.  He opened them after a few long moments, revealing his own earthy brown eyes to be as wet as hers.  Sophie suddenly felt achingly sober, the dullness that came with her intoxication stripped away as everything became far too present.  Nate’s hand brushing against her cheek pulled her out of her thoughts.

“Why must it be that the thing I wish you would cherish is the very thing that strikes the most fear in us both?”  He gave a shallow sigh.  “How long has this been bothering you?”

Too long, she thought, but simply settled for “Awhile.”

He gave a hum in response, processing his own thoughts, carefully choosing his words.  “I don’t want to… get into too much detail, but the process and the pain it brings is beyond description.”  He paused, pulling back just enough to be able to look her in the eyes.  “I don’t want to see you go through that.”

“But it ends, doesn’t it?  The pain?”  Her words were soft.

Nate studied her gaze, holding nothing but adoration in his own.  “Yes, it does.”

-------------

She was ripped from her unconsciousness with such ferocity that she thought she must have been comatose as every one of her senses rushed towards her with agonizing vividity.  Her typically sensible mind was left flailing, finding itself too incapacitated to focus on any single thing.  She did not know where she was.  She did not know who she was with.  She did not know if she was even alive.

Bile rose with the panic in her throat, she could feel herself thrashing, attempting to grasp onto whatever she could find.  Sophie felt a firm hand place itself in between her shoulder blades and push her upwards, holding her in place as she heaved into a pot placed in her lap.  She was not sure who had put it in front of her.  When she finally raised her head in an attempt to ground herself, regret swallowed her whole.  The room was spinning, her body so off kilter it may have been warping the shape of her soul.  

The hand on her back moved to the front of her shoulder to guide her back down onto what she now realized was a bed, her bed.  She stared up at the ceiling and caught a glimpse of blond hair, then a distinct smell of cigarette smoke before her eyelids forced themselves shut.

If the fire she had felt in the forest was the beginning of her being lit aflame, the pain she felt now was what it must feel like to be completely engulfed.  Her body felt cold despite the pressure of what must have been a dozen blankets on top of her.  Cold and hot at the same time.  It took her mind a moment to find the word.  Fever.  

Sophie had never felt less like herself than she did in that moment, degraded to a sick woman in bed pleading for the endless pain to finally grant her mercy.  She knew she was crying, wailing even, reciting Irish prayers that had not passed her lips for nearly a decade.  She was the weakest she had ever been in front of the strongest people she knew, people that her mind was finally able to identify.  

Adam and Morgan were by her side, the two people who were easily the least capable of comforting a writhing woman, but most capable of bearing the sight of what was undoubtedly a disturbing scene.

That was the most reasonable explanation as to why Nate wasn’t by her side, they probably would not have let him in if he tried.  They wouldn’t let him see her in the state she was in, covered in sweat and blood, smelling of vomit, begging for relief in the few words her tongue could form, completely unrecognizable from the typically strong and silent woman she was.  

She knew that he likely fought with them in a way that was as gentle as it was demanding, asking to at least be with her in her moments of silence when unconsciousness overtook her once again, and she knew that the other two would have sternly, if not vehemently denied his request.  She longed for him to be with her, keeping her close as she worked her way through the storm.

She heard the hushed words of her friends, but could not understand them.  Still, she found comfort in the familiarity of their voices, Morgan’s low and languid, Adam’s deep and taut.  She wished that comfort was enough to distract her from the electric pain running up and down her spine, weaving itself between her excruciatingly tense shoulder blades and down to her tailbone.  Sophie felt as if she had no control over her own movements, her muscles twitching endlessly, accompanied by an agonizing ache in her mouth.  She was not sure how much more of this she could take, how much longer she would last before her thoughts returned to the darkness she had felt in the forest.

She was beginning to fear that death may be the only way to make it all stop.

She did not want to die.

All she wanted was Nate, and as she felt herself begin to slip back into the relief of an unconscious mind, she imagined him wrapping his arms around her waist,  enveloping her in the safety of his strong arms.  Wherever he was, Sophie took solace in the fact that he could not be far.  He would be there to comfort her, to hold her, when this suffering finally ended, when she was finally granted clemency, when this burning crescendo came to a halt.  

For now, she would let the darkness caress her once more.

[swordandquill]

Title: Just a Call Away

Fandom: Leverage

Summary: Four times Eliot answers a call from his teammates, and one time they answer a call from him

Author’s Note: Written for Comfortember. The prompt for the first chapter is anxiety. I may hit some of the other prompts as I work my way through the chapters.

You can go here to read this on AO3 instead.

Eliot was asleep. Actually asleep. Under his nice fluffy down comforter, and he had just washed his sheets, and the bruising on his ribs was finally healed enough for him to sleep on that side without it hurting.

And his phone rang.

He should have left it in the living room, or turned it off, or tossed it out the window, or literally anything besides leaving it sitting on his nightstand. But he hadn’t. So he reached a hand out of his nice warm cocoon of blankets and groped blindly for it, pulling it back under the comforter to put to his ear.

“What?” he slurred, too groggy to even really be surly.

“I need help,” Parker said by way of greeting. 

The team had called him far more times than Eliot cared to keep track of for that exact thing, enough times that it no longer immediately incited panic in him, since it was, more often than not, not actually an emergency, particularly where Hardison and Parker were concerned. “We ran out of cookies” and “we need more blankets for movie night” were not conversations that should have started with “I need help.”

Parker’s voice wavered though, and there was just enough panic in it to have Eliot pushing himself out of bed and looking for the nearest pair of pants.

“Where are you?” Eliot asked.

“Nebraska,” Parker sounded nervous admitting it.

“Nebra…” Eliot dropped back to the edge of his bed heavily, “Parker, I’m in Boston!”

“I know,” something that sounded very much like desperation entered her voice, “I’m lost, and you know military stuff, so you can help.”

Eliot ran a rough hand over his face and tried calm both his frustration and his anxiety. Military stuff, Parker, and lost were not things that should go together, especially when Eliot was half way across the country from her. He could deal with that later though. For now, he needed to try to get her out of whatever mess she had gotten herself into. 

“What’s going on?” he did his best to keep his voice level; Parker could and would shut down on him if she thought he was angry with her.

“I got a tip that there was a stash of stolen World War II paintings hidden in an old cold war bunker in Nebraska,” Parker’s voice came across calmer now that she knew Eliot would help her.

As if that had ever been in questions.

“You’re lost in a cold war bunker?” Eliot couldn’t help the rise in his voice.

“I had the route all planned out, but then I got turned around, and all the halls look the same,” Parker snapped.

“They do that on purpose,” Eliot snapped back.

He could charter a private jet and be there in six hours, maybe five if he threw enough money at the charter company. He could call in a favor with one of his military buddies, and maybe, if he was really lucky, be there in four hours, but favors from military buddies could be complicated, and Parker would be fine for an extra hour or two… probably… maybe.

“See, you know military stuff,” Parker huffed, “tell me how to get out. There are markings on the walls, but I don’t know what any of them mean.”

There was a chance Eliot wasn’t going to know either. He had been in a handful of top secret military bunkers in his life, both with and without permission, but none of them had been cold war era, and while notation and signage was kind of standardized, it did change over time and a certain percentage of secret bases put up signage to intentionally confuse people.

He could at least try to talk Parker through, he guessed. She didn’t seem to be in immediate danger and if he could help her find her way out, that would be faster than her having to wait for him to get there.

“Okay, stay on the line and tell me what you see,” Eliot directed.

“I can’t,” the nervousness was back in Parker’s voice.

“Can’t what?” Eliot scowled, wishing Parker was there for him to scowl at.

“I can’t stay on the line,” Parker clarified, “I had to climb to the top of this big round room to get a signal, but I don’t think there’s any way out through here.”

“You climbed to the top of a missile silo,” Eliot said flatly.

“There’s no missile,” Parker countered, as if that was the problem.

This team was going to be the death of him, he just knew it.

“Okay, you are going to tell me exactly where this bunker is,” Eliot said firmly, “and I’m going to tell you what to look for so you can try and find your way out. You’re going to call me any time you can get a signal, and if I don’t hear from you with in an hour, I’m flying out there to get you.”

He kind of wanted to make the last part a threat, but neither of them would have believed that.

“Okay,” Parker agreed.

She listened carefully as Eliot explained how military notation usually worked, repeating the information back to him when he asked. Then, he had to let her hang up.

It was a very long four hours while Eliot was forced to wait for Parker’s irregular calls. He spent the time pacing restlessly, running through every possible scenario and outcome, all the things that could go wrong, from Parker getting hurt, to getting lost and not being able to reach him to tell him, to finding herself locked behind failsafe doors that didn’t unlock once they had been triggered, to the owners of the stash coming back and catching her or just killing her on the spot.

He almost chartered the flight out twice, but both times he was interrupted by Parker calling, and he hung up on the hold music to answer.

Finally, finally, though, Parker found her way out, and Eliot could hear crickets chirping and the wind rustling in the grass when she called, and he felt like he could breathe again without something trying to crush his chest.

“Thanks, Eliot,” Parker chirped, apparently none the worse for wear. Eliot was feeling much worse for wear and did not appreciate the cheerfulness.

“Now that I know how to get around, I should go back and get the paintings,” Parker continued happily, “there’s supposed to be…”

“No, you will not,” Eliot cut her off with a snarl, “you are going to get on the next flight home, and if I don’t see you in person in the next eight hours, I’m going to take all the diamonds you have stashed under the floor at that warehouse you own on 9th street, sell them for half of what they’re worth, and give all the money to a clown school.”

“I didn’t know you knew about that stash,” Parker said meekly, then added in a somewhat horrified whisper, “clowns have schools?”

That was definitely not the thing to be horrified about here.

“Eight hours, Parker,” Eliot said firmly, then hung up.

He slid to the floor and leaned back against his bed, muscles aching from the constant tension vibrating through him for the last four hours, and pressed his forehead to his knees. He didn’t think Parker really understood just how much trouble she had been in. Some of those underground facilities were huge, and with no easy way to stay in touch with her, it could have been days, if not weeks, until they found her, and that wasn’t even taking into account the possibility of her getting caught, and what the people who caught her would do to her.

He was glad she had called, glad she hadn’t waited until she was starting to suffer from dehydration and hunger, or the guys who the stuff belonged to came back and started shooting, but it was hard to quantify just how much stress his team created for him.

He glanced down at the floor where he had dropped his phone. He was tempted to call Hardison and ask him to track Parker and make sure she really didn’t go back down into the bunker, or Nate, so he would chew Parker out before he took on the job of recovering and returning the stolen art, or even Sophie, just to have someone to rant to. Anyone, just so he didn’t have to sit here alone with his frayed nerves.

Instead, he shoved himself to his feet and went to go spend some quality time with his punching bag. It wasn’t like he was going to get anymore sleep any time soon.

********

Seven hours and forty-three minutes later, Parker appeared next to him so abruptly he almost dropped his spoon into the stew he was stirring.

“Please don’t sell my diamonds,” Parker said quickly.

Eliot contemplated smacking her with the spoon. Not hard, just enough to sting. Maybe a little hard. He could say she had startled him and it was reflex.

Parker hugged him before he could decide, and he was forced to put the spoon down so he didn’t get stew on her shirt.

“Thank you for helping me,” she ducked her head against his shoulder.

Eliot sighed heavily and wrapped his arms around her, “anytime, darling.”

Because he always wanted her to call. No matter what, he wanted her to call him if she got into trouble. He didn’t want to find out about it after it was too late to do anything.

“Also, Sophie said you probably weren’t really going to sell my diamonds, and that you were just worried about me because you care, and I should apologize for scaring you,” Parker squeezed him a little tighter, “so, sorry for scaring you.”

Eliot wasn’t sure if Parker really understood what Sophie had been trying to tell her or was just doing what she thought would make him less upset with her. Either one seemed like progress in a certain way, and at least she was safe now.

He pressed his face into her hair and closed his eyes.

“I really would have sold your diamonds,” he assured her.

“Oh,” Parker frowned into his shoulder, “does that mean you care a lot or that I scared you a lot?”

“Yes,” he grumbled.

“Okay,” Parker was quiet for a moment, her grip still tight around his shoulders, “will you help me burn down all the clown schools?”

“No!” Eliot gave her a quick, hard squeeze, making her squeak, then let her go, “go set the table. Dinner’s almost ready.”

“Okay,” Parker grinned at him, then hesitated before kissing him on the cheek, “you scare me sometimes, too.”

Before Eliot could ask, she had turned away to start pulling things out of the cupboards. He stared at her for a minute before turning back to his stew. If anyone was ever going to turn his hair grey, it was going to be that girl, but he was glad to have her home.

[bohemian-rhapsody-slash]

The government inspector is a a middle-aged Dom in his late forties, perhaps a few years older than Brian. He has grey hair and is dressed in a smart suit, clutching a clipboard to his chest.

“Mr Brian Harold May?” the Dom says with a smile.

“Yes,” Brian replies, and Andy has to applaud how confident and calm he appears.

“Good morning. I’m Mr Thomas Edmonds. I’m here today to conduct your household inspection. Can you please confirm that you are the head of this household?”

“Yes I am.” Brian forces a smile. “Please come in.”

The inspector glances at Andy as he enters, giving him a curious look.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Brian says, “but my step-son, Andrew, will be shadowing me for the inspection today. He is the second oldest Dom in the household and turns eighteen in just a few months, so I thought it might be useful for him to see how this works and to understand how to run a good household.”

The inspector beams. “Not at all! It’s always encouraging to see young Doms taking an interest in the duties they’ll be expected to carry out as adults. A pleasure to meet you, Andrew.”

“And you,” Andrew lies.

The inspector turns to face the rest of the family, smiling at the Dom children stood to one side, the sub children stood to the other side, and John and Roger on their knees in the middle.

“What a lovely family,” the inspector says with a smile. “Quite a big family too! I can see from my notes that you’re a blended family- very noble of you to take in another sub and his children, Mr May. I also just want to take this opportunity to reassure you that I am completely independent- I am aware of course of who you are, but I don’t know too much about Queen myself. With celebrities we always like to make sure that we assign an inspector who isn’t going to be biased.”

“That’s good to know,” Brian says weakly.

“Now, I’ve got a list of the members of your household here, but I’d be grateful if you could please introduce them to me.”

“Of course.” Brian gestures at Roger and John. “My submissives. Roger is my claimed submissive, and I’m John’s nominated Dom. You’ll probably be aware that his Dom passed away nearly two years ago, and he’s under my care now.”

Roger and John bow their heads respectfully at the inspector, keeping their eyes lowered to the floor.

“Beautiful,” the inspector says softly. “Just beautiful. And I suppose they’ve had their annual medical exams this year? Are they still fertile?”

Andy clenches his fists, trying to restrain himself as he watches the discomfort return to his mother’s face.

“Yes, they’re all up to date with their medical exams,” Brian says firmly, “and both are still fertile. Perhaps we can save the details for our interview later? I’d prefer not to discuss this in front of the children.”

“Yes, of course. We can discuss this more later. Would you care to introduce me to your Dominant children?”

Brian nods and gestures to the right. “My Dominant son, Liam, and Dominant daughters, Sophie and Charlotte. And this is Nathan, my Dominant step-son.”

The inspector gives them all a smile. “Very healthy looking children.” He focuses on Nate. “Hello, young man.”

Nate looks up at the inspector with panic in his eyes, clearly unsure of how to respond. Andy tries to catch his eye, but in his panic Nate breaks ranks and rushes over to John, gripping on to his mother and burying his face in John’s sleeve.

“I’m sorry, sir,” John says softly, stroking Nate’s hair and pulling him in for a hug. “He’s a bit shy.”

“Not to worry,” the inspector chuckles. “I’m sure his Dominant side will come out a bit more as he gets older. And your submissive children, Mr May?”

Brian gestures to the left. “My submissive son, James, and my submissive step-son, George.”

The inspector makes a note on his clipboard. “Excellent. They both look as though they’ll bloom into fine submissive beauties.”

George makes a mock vomiting face when the inspector turns his back, and Andy shoots him a pleading look.

The inspector seems content enough for the time being, and with the easy part over, they proceed to the interviews. The interviews take place in the dining room, and the inspector insists on speaking to everyone in three groups. Brian and Andy are allowed to be present for each of them.

The Dom children are interviewed first, and they all manage to stick to the script. They talk about how Brian is a good role model for them, and how he maintains discipline in the house. Liam and Sophie do most of the talking, which is a relief because Nate still looks nervous.

George and James’s interview is also fairly straightforward. They tell some believable lies about how Brian is already introducing them to some potential eligible Doms, and how they’re looking forward to one day supporting their own Doms with running a household.

It’s the interview with Roger and Andy’s mother that makes Andy the most uncomfortable.

One of the things that really annoys him is that the inspector directs most of the questions to Brian.

“Are you pleased with them?” the inspector asks, scribbling down notes. “Do they satisfy your needs?”

John blushes, and Andy clenches his hands in his lap.

“Very pleased,” Brian says, barely hesitating. “I couldn’t ask for better submissives.”

“Lovely. And are they obedient? Do they submit to you completely?”

“Yes. They do as they’re told. They are very respectful to me as their Dominant.”

The inspector gestures at John’s neck. “Are you planning on claiming John at some point? Does it upset you that he has another Dom’s collar around his neck?”

“Not at all,” Brian says immediately. “I respect John’s status as a widowed sub and his decision not to want to be claimed by me. His devotion to his previous Dom is no reflection of his devotion to me.”

The inspector nods. “Alright then. I think I have most of what I need. I’ll just need to carry out a more thorough inspection of your submissives and their obedience. Is there somewhere private we can go? One of the bedrooms perhaps?”

John’s face pales as Roger reaches over to squeeze his hand, and had Andy not been prepared for this moment, he might have lost his temper.

“You can’t do that,” Andy interrupts before Brian can respond. “You can’t carry out an intimate inspection without a warrant. And you can only file for one of those if we fail the main inspection.”

Everyone at the table frowns at him.

“It’s true,” Andy adds. “I read about it. It’s the law.”

The inspector looks as though he’s trying to hide his annoyance. “Ah yes. Right you are. Looks like you’ve got a budding lawyer here, Mr May.”

“Looks like I have,” Brian says, giving Andy a proud grin.

Luckily all that’s left is the house inspection, and thanks to a family effort every room is absolutely spotless. The inspector can find no fault. He spends rather a long time looking through the master bedroom, and Andy has to bite his tongue as the inspector rifles through his mother’s underwear drawer. Andy has to leave the room when the inspector starts pulling out a series of paddles and other items from the wardrobe.

But ten minutes later, the inspector makes his final notes on his clipboard and leaves, satisfied.

The tension noticeably dissolves once he’s gone, and Andy finds himself being pulled into a hug by Brian.

“We did it,” Brian grins, “all thanks to you. I’m proud of you, Andy.”

Andy smiles bashfully. “Yeah. We did it.”

[agent-mcsweetheart]

The Real Fake Car Job

This is the first I’ve seen this episode so bare with me. There are spoilers so, sorry. Here are my thoughts and favorite moments. As always the five are colored accordingly: Nate, Hardison, Parker, Sophie, Eliot, and for this one we’re adding the Mark bc he is. Just.

um first of all. Is that... Shaggy from the scooby doo movie???

Gasp that WitSec lady’s pretty 

“I just thought, a guy like you would have an office or something.” “Nah tried that once. Had trouble keeping it in one piece” Thanks a lot Sterling

okay but the victim has. the best eyelashes what??

“He’ll trade his mob records for immunity and a new identity. Sweet.” ... “I mean. Evil and clever, but bad.”

Also the way Eliot looked at her I just- 

Also Also Eliot naming the gun and identifying the bodyguard’s affiliation and connecting it to witsec

A former Millionaire works at a library haha

He just spoiled the book what a jerk

Also it’s free wifi and he’s selling it for $5 fsdhkj “I know it says free internet, that just means it’s available”

Parker and the bag of trash “No! I just had Lucille detailed! Girl- Is that seafood I smell??”

“Really? That’s the best you got?” “Uh-” “Guys I got something.” “Oh thank god.”

Hardison throwing the banana peel at Soph

They used Craigslist I’m-

“All expenses paid trip to Bora Bora” “Lucky, man.”

“Do I have to talk to Parker about-” “Yeah.” “...”

I would rather be in portland than arizona why are you mad??

Parker looking CUTE in the sun dress and floppy hat.

“It’s such a shame isn’t it?” “No. Well, yes, yes of course.”

Parker becoming such a good Grifter now

The mark trying not to appear excited when he connects that it’s the Mussolini 

“I’m Franny Mackleroy, this is my husband-” “Barry Mackleroy. We’re the Mackleroy’s.”

“just a little thank you for letting us JOIN YOU’RE NEIGHBORHOOD!”

Also Soph’s face in the thing

Hardison and Parker’s lil exchange about retiring and living like that “All up in each other’s faces 24/7″

“Eliot told you.” “You were flailing just a little.” “Just a skosh?” “Yeah.”

“Acting strange? In Portland?”

They name dropped Mr. and Mrs. Smith I love it

Sophie speaking Italian

Charlie looks a little nervous...

The Mark haveing $150,000 dollars in cash from basic scams like selling free wifi

Hardison being an annoying artist

Sophie’s wave

“This wheel well and that one, would serve as the perfect base for my next... mmm expression.”

“You’re going to buy this- this car and dismantle it for parts??” “Mm, no, no. I don’t see word, parts. I see links to a very specific time and place.”

The mark being visibly shook about Hardison taking apart a ‘21 Bentley and a mercer cobra i don’t get it oh wait they were his cars kjdfgh

“SEVEN-SEVEN-SEVEN HUNDRED AND FIFTY DOLLARS FOR THIS CAR!” “Sold!” “...for shame.” “Out.”

Sophie and Eliot being sketchy I love them so much

“What do want to do when all this is done?” “I always wanted to open up my own restaurant. But now I might end up making sure Hardison’s doesn’t go out of business. Throw a couple drunks out, won’t let it get robbed once a year.” What a good boyfriend

“okay. Now I’m scared.” “What? I’m here?” “Eliot. You’re what’s scaring me.”

Eliot would 100% be the most readjusted of the five 

“I’m tired.” “You’re tired...Must be all the fresh air you’re breathing.”

*Says something* “Shut Up!” "thank you”

*Repeats Sophie* “Gimme the gun. I’ll shoot him myself.” “No.” “I’ve never shot anyone before. Let me shoot him.”

Oh my god the mob is with charlie I knew it

“You idiot.” Half a second later. “Alright that one’s on me.”

“South entrance will be clear in...ten seconds?”... “Make it five.”

“You mean you want us to get all the way over there, fuel up the car, and drive out all in the middle of a gun fight and pretend it’s bullet proof like the bat mobile?!?” *gun shots* “okay I’m in let’s go.”

The mark screaming whenever he gets shot at

“Stop! Stop driving! Please stop!”

Imagine making the mob because the police in your neighborhood sucked like what an icon

Nate being a softy at the end skjfdhs

[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!

[kaniacqueen]

Leverage International: The Diner Job Ch. 17 Flash Bang

As they began to pull apart, the mirth was destroyed by something crashing through the front window followed by the sound of squealing tires. Eliot looked down to see a canister shape that looked familiar. All he could register was that it was most likely explosive. He quickly started herding everyone in the kitchen. “Get down!” He was the last one to make it past the door. Something registered as he shoved the last of the heads under counters. “Cover your ears!” He grabbed dishtowels and tossed them around. He demonstrated pressing one against his ears as additional protection against the impending blast. He pushed every head down in a final effort of shielding before it detonated. 

They all sat painfully still as the acrid smoke cleared. When they could all finally see each other, Parker asked aloud, “Why a flash bang? Why not just blow us up?”

Nate shook his head vigorously, as if to dispel the disorientation. “Didn’t want to damage the place. It was a scare tactic. Had Eliot not recognized it, it would have at the very least put you all out of work for a few days, if not in the hospital.”

Hardison wiggled “They just wanted us out of commission long enough to give them another chance to pull the place out from under us. This isn’t over.”

Parker rubbed her head.“We...we just need to regroup. And...attack them...directly.” It was obvious she was still very disoriented. 

Hardison reached for her. “Baby, you okay?”

Nate squinted at her, examining her. “Hers and Eliot’s ears are a little more sensitive than the rest of us. Eliot was just a little more prepared to protect himself.”

Parker argued, “I’ve been through explosions before, though.” Her speech was slurred. 

Eliot crawled over to her and pulled a pen light out of his back pocket. He started flashing it in her eyes and ears, looking closely. “Doesn’t look like there’s any severe damage, no concussion, no bleeding.”

“You have been under a lot of stress, Parker,” Sophie added. 

Eliot put the light back in his pocket. “You’re right. Let’s take a night to regroup.”

“They’re going to come here tonight, Yavetz and whatever lackeys he can pay to come along.” Savannah said pointedly. 

“Lock the doors,” Hardison posed. “He won’t cause any damage to the place. It means something to him too, as selfish as he is.”

Nods of agreement bobbed around the room and they all got up to lock up and leave. 

Eliot laid in bed next to Savannah, listening intently. It appeared she was finally asleep, deep enough for him to slip out of bed. So he did, put on his jeans, and headed to the diner. No. He shouldn’t be confronting Yavetz on his own, not by team protocol, but he was the one that had a rapport with Yavetz. He was going to be the one to end it. He and Yavetz exchanged messages to meet at the diner.

"Paul," Eliot heard the familiar voice behind him as he leaned against the diner's back door. He also heard the additional footsteps.

"Kilmer," he answered, not turning around. "You brought friends."

"Eh?" the man responded like he didn't hear him. Eliot heard the clank of metal hitting gravel and everything went black.

Eliot peeled his eyes open as he registered that his head was pounding. And he was tied to a chair. And there were four people in the room with him, a man on every side of him, the one in front was facing him. It was Yavetz. He exhaled slowly as he calculated the events that lead up to his current predicament. Yavetz caught him off guard with a flashbang. He had been captured, and he was on his own. If he didn't get himself out of this quietly, and the team found out what he'd done, he was in for it. Savannah might never forgive him. 

Slowly, he looked up until he was staring Yavetz in the face. "What's the problem, Kilmer?" he asked, being deliberately obtuse. 

Yavetz stood with his fingers interlaced in front of him. He gave a kind of shrug. "I don't know how the Orsinis hired you or why they're playing this game where they hand my restaurant off to you fraudulent strangers, but the game ends now."

"What do you mean 'fraudulent'? The Orsinis felt it was time to retire and wanted to hand off their legacy. They liked us. So we got it."

Yavetz gave a signal and the man on Eliot's left shocked him in the jaw. He had a hook, but Eliot had been popped with far worse. He hardly blinked as his head snapped to the side. 

Yavetz spoke as Eliot turned to look at him again. "Do not insult me. I do not know who you are. But I believe you are not who you say." 

Eliot rolled his eyes. Okay. They were blown. But there was still time to out. "What do you want, Kilmer?"

Yavetz started to pace the short space in front of him. "I want my restaurant. With the Orsinis getting well past their prime, you cannot keep it from me. They sold it to you, you claim. You must have papers. You will give them to me. Where are they?"

Eliot rolled his eyes again and shook his head. "Why would I give you the papers?"

Yavetz gestured towards him. "Look at where you are."

"So? Tyin' me up doesn't force me to hand over the diner."

Yavetz narrowed his eyes. "The restaurant still opens in the morning, yes? And your cagna of a wife will come looking for you, won't she? I bet the first place she checks is there. Maybe I will have some friends waiting for her. Unless she is not your wife."

The chair shook as Eliot tried to lunge at him while still restrained. "You stay the hell away from her, you sorry son of a bitch!"

"Good," the malicious man replied. "I think I will head there now. It is probably where you are keeping my documents. Maybe if she comes in and gives me what I want, she stays unharmed. But I am certain I have time to ransack the place before she comes looking for you."

Did he? It finally occurred to Eliot that without dehim there, Savannah could wake up at any moment, and when she did, she'd come looking for him. How long had it been? Was she looking already? What if she had woken up with a panic attack, and it got worse because he was gone. What was he thinking. 

His mind was pulled back into his own predicament as Yavetz began to leave the room. Before he closed the door, he told his cohorts, "Keep him alive, and coherent if you can. But maybe teach him a lesson."

The door clicked closed, and hands flew. The blows weren't hard. Eliot didn't fight back; he wasn't focused on the pain. He was lost in the concern for Savannah and how much trouble he was in when everyone found out he decided to confront Yavetz on his own. Time passed and he began to feel the pain. He started trying to dodgethe blows and get out of the restraints. They were getting angrier at his struggles. He wasn't quite as young as he used to be, and it wasn't easy to take blows while weaseling out of restraints. 

With no warning, the door flew out of the frame with a bang and nearly hit him and the goon next to him and kicking up an impossible amount of debris. He saw her through the settling dust, leg still up from kicking the door in. It was Savannah, and she was furious.

[swordandquill]

Title: Winter Break

Fandom: Leverage

Summary: The team find themselves snowed in in a little town in the middle of nowhere.

Author’s Note: Fair warning, I haven't written the rest of this story yet, and I'm not sure when I'll have a chance to finish it, but I thought the first scene was a good fit for the Comfortember prompt: exhaustion, so I'm going to go head and post it.

(Also, Sophie’s chapter is up next for Just a Call Away)

You can go here to read this on AO3 instead.

Eliot saw Hardison slump down into one of the hard terminal seats to his left and start punching away on his phone and didn’t even side eye him. There should have been at least a little spike of adrenaline in seeing him there when he definitely shouldn’t have been, but instead there was just a bone deep weariness that came with the knowledge that for Hardison to be there something had to be very wrong.

“I’m so sorry, sir,” the woman at the gate counter did her best to sound apologetic, but it was obvious she was just frazzled; two massive storm cells had re-routed seven flights to the little Podunk airport, and there were more people crowded into the terminals than the place probably saw in two or three months, “there’s just no way to tell when we’ll be able to start rebooking outgoing flights.”

“No worries, darling,” Eliot fell back into an easy drawl, too tired for much else, “can’t control the weather.”

It hurt slinging his bag over his shoulder and reaching down to grab his second bag was almost too much effort to be worth it, but he did anyway, with an easy smile at the gate worker and no sign of discomfort.

When he got to Hardison, he let his bags fall heavily to the ground, then dropped himself into the chair beside him, still not bothering to look at him.

“Who else is here?” he leaned forward, elbows on his knees and head bowed.

“Whole team,” Hardison continued tapping away on his phone.

“Fucking hell,” Eliot rubbed a hand over his face.

“You alright, man?” Hardison finally glanced over at him.

“What have you checked so far?” Eliot ignored the concern.

It went without saying that all five of them being re-routed to the same airport in the middle of nowhere couldn’t be a coincidence, especially given the fact that the last job had been rough enough for them to take the precaution of booking five different flights on their way out, with the plan to regroup back at HQ gradually over the next three or four days.

“Running checks on air control, pilots, and flight staff,” Hardison offered, “haven’t found anything yet.”

“Can you get into the air control logs?” Eliot forced down a shiver; the hoodie he was wearing was no match for how cold it was outside and how poorly the terminal was heated.

The way every movement sent sharp pain through his shoulder though made it very clear to him that it wasn’t worth it to dig his coat out of his bag. The over-the-counter pain killers he had taken right before his flight had long worn off, and what he really needed was a place to hole up so he could take a round of the prescription strength stuff and get some rest.

That ship, it seemed, had sailed, though. And then been sunk under a foot of snow.

“Here,” Hardison handed his phone over to him, all the officially logged information on the seven rerouted flights on display.

Eliot flipped through the information, checking and cross checking all of it. He forced himself to go more slowly than he usually would, aware of just how tired he was and how easy it would be to miss something or make a mistake, and mistakes just weren’t an option where the team’s safety was at stake.  

By the time he had listened to the exchanges between the tower and the pilots for all seven flights on Hardison’s earbuds, Nate had appeared, dropping down in the chair on Eliot’s other side, a paper cup of questionable coffee in one hand.

“Where are Parker and Sophie?” Eliot asked, his unease at their absence growing now that Nate had shown up and they still hadn’t; he knew they could take care of themselves, but that didn’t stop him from worrying.

“Trying to find a coffee stand that will make a decent cappuccino and let Parker put half a bottle of syrup in her hot chocolate,” Nate relaxed back in his chair, not looking particularly distressed by their current situation, “you want anything?”

“No,” even the idea of coffee made his stomach roll; he knew he needed to eat something to settle it, but eating sounded like a terrible idea at the moment.

“Find anything yet?” Nate looked at Hardison over Eliot’s hunched back.

“Nothing,” Hardison shook his head, “plus I still can’t find us anywhere to stay. Everything is full.”

“Eliot?” Nate asked, glancing down at his phone when Sophie texted him a warning that Parker had managed to put six extra pumps of mocha in her hot chocolate without the barista noticing.

Nate wasn’t sure if he should be impressed or terrified. He settled on asking Sophie to grab a bottle of Gatorade for Eliot, then slipped his phone back into his pocket.  

“Nothing,” Eliot handed Hardison’s phone back to him, then slumped forward again, “three of the re-routes were requested by the pilots, four of them were made by air control. They tried to re-route Sophie’s flight to a larger airport, but the storm shifted, and they had to send it here. The pilot on your flight was retired air force. He kept using air force codes and the tower was giving him shit about it. Hardison’s pilot kept flipping his call sign and his co-pilot kept cutting in to correct it. Re-routes all make sense for the way the two storm fronts are shaping up.”

“What does that mean?” Hardison glanced at Nate over Eliot’s back, a slight tip of his head in the hitter’s direction.

“It means that there’s nothing there,” Nate dropped his free hand to the back of Eliot’s neck and began kneading, “if they were trying to pull something, they would have made sure everything was perfect in the logs in case someone went back to review them. Which means everything is pointing to this just being a really weird coincidence.”

“There is no way this is a coincidence,” Eliot grumbled, grateful to have some of the tension finally ease out of his shoulders under Nate’s hand.

“The world is a strange place,” Sophie’s very expensive and highly inappropriate for snow storms shoes appeared in Eliot’s line of sight, “you look awful, sweetheart.”

She pressed a kiss to the top of his head before going to sit on Hardison’s other side, leaning over his shoulder and sipping her coffee as she watched him continued to try to find them a place to stay.

“Do you have any real shoes with you?” Eliot gripped at her.

“I’ll have you know, I could buy two sets of those fancy kitchen knives you love so much with what these shoes cost,” Sophie said in mock offense, “but I do have weather appropriate shoes if that’s what you’re asking. I’ll dig them out once we decide on our plan.”

Parker planted herself on the floor at Eliot’s feet and stared up at him, the line of chocolate on her top lip a clear indication that she had already managed to down her hot chocolate. Eliot just raised his eyebrows at her. He couldn’t deny, he felt better having all four of them close, knowing that at least they were in reach if something happened.

“Our plan is to find someplace to stay to wait out this storm,” Nate continued rubbing Eliot’s neck, “if the weather report is right, we could be stuck here for the next three or four days, and I don’t think any of us want to spend that long sleeping on airport benches.”

“Whatever we end up doing, we should stick together,” Eliot insisted.

Eliot knew he was paranoid, and he knew sometimes that paranoia was justified and sometimes it wasn’t. The problem was, it didn’t matter if there was actually someone out to get them, or he was just tired and his brain was defaulting to ‘danger,’ it all felt the same. It felt like his team was in trouble, and he needed to do something, needed to make sure they were safe.

“We are definitely sticking together,” Hardison grumbled, “I’ll be lucky if I can find even one room for us.”

“You hurt your shoulder again,” Parker frowned up at Eliot.

Nate’s hand went abruptly still on the back of his neck, and Eliot glared down at Parker. He had been careful about not showing the injury, but this was Parker, and her observation skills were frighteningly good. Her sense of tact, not so much.

“I just dislocated it,” Eliot did his best to sound dismissive, “it’s fine.”

“When did that happen?” Nate demanded.

“Does it matter?” Eliot was not interested in having this argument again.

“I need to know when you’re hurt on a job,” Nate squeezed his neck briefly, then went back to kneading at it.

“It’s fine. Popped it back in, no problem. It wasn’t worth throwing Sophie’s exit off for,” Eliot should really have straightened up and pulled away, but he couldn’t muster the energy to, “it happens… sometimes.”

He caught himself before he could say “all the time,” partly because that was definitely the wrong thing to say right now and partly because it wasn’t really true. There was permanent damage in his left shoulder that made it slightly more prone to dislocating, but it didn’t happen all the time.

“Tell me next time it happens,” Nate pulled his hand away, and it was everything Eliot could do not to follow it.

“You want me to tell you next time I skin my knee too?” the hitter asked peevishly.

“Yes!” the rest of his team chimed in.

“You’re all ridiculous,” Eliot grumbled at them, but he couldn’t help the quiet warmth that pooled in his chest.

“You should wear a sling after you dislocate it,” Parker leaned her head on his knee, still looking up at him, “it makes it feel better.”

“I don’t have a sling,” Eliot pointed out, “it’s fine.”

“You have pain meds,” Parker reached back to drag one of his bags closer.

“Need to eat something before I take any more,” Eliot used his foot to push the bag away from her; he would definitely end up retching if he tried to take even the over the counter stuff right now, and he’d rather not, “leave that alone. We need to figure out our next move.”

“You’re going to drink this,” Nate opened the Gatorade bottle Sophie had slipped him before handing it to Eliot, “and we’re going to have to think outside the box if we want to find a place to sleep tonight.”

Eliot glared at the radioactive yellow color, but took it anyway. Nate wasn’t wrong; he needed the fluids. He should have had Sophie grab him some tea though. Even crappy airport tea would have been better than Gatorade. He forced himself to finally sit up so he could drink, and Nate’s hand fell back to the nap of his neck and started kneading again. Eliot leaned back into it under the guise of settling into his chair more comfortably.

“We could buy a house,” Sophie suggested, only half joking.

“We could steal a house,” Parker grinned, head back to resting on Eliot’s knee, “that would be faster. Also more fun.”

“I could kick someone out of a room,” Hardison squinted at his phone, “but that seems like kind of a shitty thing to do.”

“Oh! Find someone who’s a jerk and kick them out,” Parker shifted so she could look at Hardison over Eliot’s knee, “then it would be okay, right Nate?”

“It would be… less not okay,” Nate offered, clearly amused, “but let’s call that plan D.”

“Can stealing a house be plan A?” Parker asked eagerly.

“No,” Nate snorted, “but it’s definitely ranking above sleeping in the airport for three days.”

“Sleeping in the airport better be plan Z.” Sophie huffed.

“No,” Hardison grinned, “plan Z has zombies.”

Eliot sipped at his Gatorade slowly, waiting to gauge how it would settle on an empty stomach, and tried to prioritize what they needed to do. Security and the team’s safety was always his first priority, but he needed to get his brain to let that go for a little bit so he could figure out what they would need to manage being snowed in in a tiny town for a week, because Nate’s estimate of three days was generous if the weather reports were even half right.

His brain was not cooperating. The airport was overcrowded with angry people who were looking at being stuck there for days with no other options, and every aggressive gesture and raised voice had his eyes jumping to the person, assessing the level of threat, then skittering away to the next one. There could be a threat there somewhere; the five of them ending up together some place they hadn’t intended to be felt like a trap.

He needed to get them out of here. That seemed like a good first step.

“Do we have a car?” he interrupted Hardison’s detailing of plan Z, which he had heard way too many times.

“Yeah, I reserved us a van as soon as I got in,” Hardison confirmed, “ain’t fancy, but they’re supposed to put the chains on for us.”

“Maybe we should just get out of here then,” Eliot gave the half full Gatorade bottle a disgusted look, “we should aim for getting enough supplies for all of us for at least a week, just in case, and it’s early enough that the grocery stores might still be open if the blizzard hasn’t shut them down.”

Somewhere behind them a disgruntled businessman got unnecessarily loud with airport personal and one of the meandering security guards started to make his way towards the disturbance. Nate felt Eliot tense under his hand and shift his weight to a position it would be easier for him to get up in a hurry from. Parker was starting to look a little twitchy too, although being pressed up against Eliot’s knee and at least partially sheltered from the chaos of the terminal was probably helping.

“I’m not keen on the idea of driving out into a blizzard with no final destination in mind,” Sophie frowned.

“Living out of a van with five other people and freezing my ass off for a week,” Hardison flipped through web pages faster than Sophie could follow, “that better be somewhere after plan Z.”

Eliot knew they weren’t wrong, but Parker was hugging the leg she was resting against like a teddy bear, and he would have to step on her if he had to get up quickly to deal with trouble. It felt like the better option was to go sort out their next move behind locked doors, even if they were just car doors.

Nate gave the back of Eliot’s neck a reassuring squeeze, and Eliot pulled his ankle back, partially trapping Parker between his leg and the chair. He gave her a tired smile when she looked up at him and pretended not to notice when she started untying his boot lace. She would retie it using whatever her favorite knot of the week was.

“We’ll call sleeping in the van plan E,” Nate offered.

“That seems awfully high on the list,” Sophie complained.

“Well, then we better come up with a plan A,” Nate scoffed, “and Eliot’s right, we’re going to have to make a supply run and try to stock up. It would be better not to have to make too many trips out if the roads are bad,” he pulled his notepad and pen out of his inner pocket and passed it to Eliot, “the grown-ups don’t want to live on orange soda and coco puffs for a week, so this one’s all you.”

“Put coco puffs on the list,” Parker stage whispered to Eliot.

He snorted softly, but put it down first. He was acutely aware that Nate was trying to give him some kind of distraction to focus on, and he wanted to be more irritated by it than he was, but focusing on something besides the crowd and being able to organize his thoughts on paper did actually help.

It took a surprising amount of food to feed five people for a week, plus the logistics of possibly losing power, and all the other things they would need, things to cook food in, plates and utensils of some kind if the place they were staying didn’t have any, restocking the med kit, taking into account that he really didn’t feel like cooking and the rest of team’s cooking skills ranged from “probably won’t kill anyone” to “definitely will make something explode.”

“Isn’t this hiking country?” Nate asked suddenly.

“Unfortunately,” Hardison grumbled, “I’m going to go sleep on the floor in the corner over there before I’m going to camp in this though.”

“Summer vacation rentals,” Eliot filled in before Nate could, “they’ll be closed up for winter, so they shouldn’t be booked. Just make sure they have their utilities turned on.”

Hardison perked up at the idea and started searching on his phone, Sophie leaning eagerly over his shoulder again.

“Finish this,” Nate picked up the bottle of Gatorade from where Eliot had set it on the arm rest and held it out to him, “or I’m hunting down a bottle of Pedialyte for you.”

“You know,” Eliot set the pad on his knee and took the bottle from him reluctantly, “Pedialyte actually tastes better.”

“Isn’t that like baby food?” Parker peered curiously at the list, noting with satisfaction that Eliot had put not only coco puffs but also fruity pebbles and frosted flakes on it for her.

“Yeah,” Nate confirmed, “so don’t be a baby and drink your Gatorade.”

“Got one,” Hardison announced, “a lovely summer chalet with two bedrooms and a sleeping loft, full kitchen, and real wood fireplace. Also, on the grid and utilities running. It’s closed for the winter, so no rental contacts listed.”

“Can we steal it?” Parker asked eagerly.

“Let’s try just renting it first,” Nate shook his head, “see if you can get a contact number for the owners.”

“If?” Hardison snorted, “like I couldn’t do this in my sleep.”

“Stop bragging and give me the phone,” Sophie tried to snatch the phone from him as soon as the number was up, “what are we doing?”

“Family vaca,” Nate ignored Eliot’s grumble from beside him.

They called the particular grouping of IDs “family vaca” because Eliot got angry when they called it “Eliot needs to go to the ER and Nate needs durable power of attorney for him,” although to be fair, there were other ways they used this particular arrangement.

“I’m so glad I reached you,” Sophie started talking before the person on the other end of the line could even ask who was there, giving Eliot a wink as she pulled out her friendliest southern drawl.

Eliot rolled his eyes and began adjusting the list now that he knew they would have an actual kitchen. Just how well outfitted a rental’s kitchen would be could vary widely, but at least they shouldn’t need dishes and utensils, and if they were lucky, it would have a gas stove and they’d still be able to cook if the power went out.

“Add marshmallows,” Parker demanded and let go of his leg to reach for his bag.

“Stay out of my stuff,” Eliot used his foot to push the bag away from her again.

“You need your jacket,” Parker swatted at his shin, “I know you had the one with the fuzz on the inside with you; you wore it when we were casing the warehouse.”

“Other bag,” Eliot gave in, then shoved Parker gently with his foot, “don’t rearrange anything in there. It’s all exactly where I want it.”

“You always pack your bags the same,” Parker complained as she unzipped the second bag, “it makes finding things so boring.”

“It’s…,” Eliot broke off, distracted by two security guards rushing past them, heading in the direction of the meager food court.

“Almost out of here,” Nate patted his knee, “once we’ve got the cabin worked out, we’ll hit up a grocery store, then get settled for the night.”

“I don’t like any of this, Nate,” Eliot frowned at him.

“I know,” Nate agreed easily, “it’s a lot of coincidence, but it’s also a lot of moving pieced that can’t be controlled or predicted, and we do need to get moving if we don’t actually want to spend the next week stuck in the airport.”

“Coat,” Parker held up Eliot’s jacket, one of his beanies firmly on her head.

He suspected he would not be getting that beanie back, but that was alright; he had another one somewhere and Parker would need a hat once they got out of the airport. He reached for his jacket, but Parker snatched it back.

“Let me help,” she insisted, “it’s not good to raise your arm over your shoulder right after you dislocate it.”

“You know, this is not the first time I’ve done this,” Eliot let her help despite his protest, “I know how to deal with it.”

“Yeah, but you don’t half the time,” Hardison grumbled.

“If I ain’t dead then I delt with it,” Eliot glared.

“Sophie says it’s not funny to joke about that when you’re hurt,” Parker zipped up the jacket for him despite him trying to brush her hands away.

Sophie glanced over at them at her name, but continued her cheerful conversation with the rental owner, giving them little more than a raised eyebrow.

“Well, then, when is it funny to joke about it?” Nate asked, clearly bemused.

Sophie reached across both Hardison and Eliot to swat him, never once breaking the steady chatter of her conversation.

“Hat too,” Parker pulled a beanie over Eliot’s head, then tucked his hair back so it wasn’t in his face, “it’s snowing really hard. Did you put ice packs on your list?”

Eliot let her snatch the pad from him, although the fancy pen she started adding to it with looked like it was Sophie’s. He had not put ice packs on the list, but he had planned to grab a couple if they had any, along with more Tylenol and ibuprofen. He had some in his med kit, but if all five of them were going to be dipping into the kit, it would be better to stock up.

“You are just the sweetest thing,” Sophie cooed at the phone, “don’t you bother with coming out in this dreadful weather. We can manage just fine.”

Sophie hung up and grinned at the team, “the house is ours for as long as we need it. There’s a lock box on the porch with the key.”

“I can just pick the lock,” Parker protested as she pushed herself to her feet.

“It’s okay to use a key sometimes Parker,” Nate stood and started gathering up their bags, “maybe change it up a little every now and then.”

“I don’t like keys in lock boxes,” Eliot shoved himself up, “too easy to get to and copy.”

He was dizzy for a second, just long enough for Hardison to put a hand on the small of his back. Eliot stepped away from him and no one said anything. He just needed to eat something, preferably something that wouldn’t make him sick, that was all.

Hardison snatched up his bags before he could grab them, and if he hadn’t been feeling so lousy, he would have kicked him in the shin for it.