leverage ramblings + fic.
Leverage 1x10, omg, back to srz bzness, huh, cracky show? My OTP was so hurty in this. I loved how Sophie was trying to cure him and Nate was all angry alcoholic and she was all "Sigh." and it got really weird sometimes (hallucinations? NATE, YOU HAVE A PROBLEM PLZ UNDERSTAND) but yeah, overall nice episode. Sophie please don't give up on him. :(
But OMFG when Hardison and Eliot visit and Eliot is all ~smooth-talker~ to the laydee and Hardison is all "Well, if you want to play it like that.." and ...yeah, awesome. "I'm with him. I'm with him." and Eliot's face ahahahaha. Perfect. Just perfect.
And aww, Parker making progress. Bless her. I think her happy pills end up in OT3 with her & Eliot & Hardison, Y/Y? Ahem. I mean. My mind steers clear of the gutter at all times.
So I kind of wrote fic for this show. Considering the latest ep, I'd say both pieces take place before that point in canon and wouldn't leave my head until I wrote them so they're kind of hurriedly written but, uhh, here they are. :D
three steps forward, three steps back
leverage, nathan/sophie, around 1,000 words, pg-13. spoilers up to 1x08 the mile high job. i don't own anything related to leverage.
"I don't see how you could confuse Paris and Tuscany," Sophie says, but to Nathan the connection is quite clear.
The red dress.
In Paris she feels a little like at home, though she was born and raised in London by elite French immigrants, so she never goes for anything grand, and even though some may know her as Princess of Slovenia*, she still has to wear the same dress twice.
**
In Paris, just because he was there and she was there, Sophie decided to play another round of their little game. All he saw was a woman at the bar, a fine figure draped in a red dress, and when he approached her, she spilled her drink all over his coat (to snatch his wallet, he much later came to realize). They made for small-talk that evening, and she showed him back to his hotel, because French street names gave him a headache.
"I'm not chasing you around, Sophie," he told her at some point during the night. "You can tell me what kind of scam you're pulling this time."
"You don't have to chase me, Nate," she replied with a smile. "I'm already here."
And she was there, so there and in that dress, and he let his guard down for the evening. He was after a Norwegian art thief, and Sophie wasn't it. She never had a taste for Cubism. Too crude.
She told him she was researching a role, a Parisian baker's daughter who ends up shoving her head in an oven.
"In Paris?" he commented. "Can't blame her."
Sophie gave him a look but he knew that even she wasn't crazy about the French. It wasn't her home, not really. In England she probably felt too French, in France too English. Nationless.
When they departed, she pressed three kisses on his cheeks.
"You're really not going to invite me in for a night cap, Nate?" she asked him then. "So rude of you. You know, when in Rome.."
"..don't get eaten by lions," he replied as she took a step closer, pulling his hand into hers. "I'd rather I still have all my belongings tomorrow morning."
"You haven't got any money, Nate," she said with a laugh, really, very close now.
"But I do still have both my kidneys," he said and pulled his hand away politely. "Goodnight, Sophie."
The wallet arrived to the American Embassy in Paris a week later, with a note in French, an apology, "Je suis désolé." and an address to the bakery with the biggest oven in Paris. It was stamped on LA. She was clearly toying with him.
He visited the bakery every day until he left the city. He's still not sure why.
**
In Tuscany, she was in the same dress, but acting as a millionaire's widow from Spain. This time he was chasing her, but the goods were elsewhere, possibly Switzerland, Portugal, Hungary. She seemed to have connections, aliases, fake PO boxes and addresses in every country, and a million more outside Europe.
The bad thing about diamonds was that they could be anywhere. And riffling through condos in seven European cities, trying to get a hold of her bank accounts in four countries, none of this would actually get him both the goods and the criminal.
And yet, with all of this going on, all he could think about was that dress. He approached her again, playing it cool like in Paris, but this time she knew he was after her. Her smiles widened and she glued herself to his side, her previous victim forgotten by now, and he allowed this to happen (just because of the dress, he told himself).
But the thing about Sophie wasn't that she looked good in a dress or knew how to flirt subtly enough for it not to raise that much suspicion in him. She was, quite simply put, incredibly smart and even more incredibly fast. They'd barely spoken to each other for ten minutes when the bartender made him another martini. All it did was pass her hands as she gave it to him with a smile.
He took a sip, then another, as she was leaning close again and dropping the Spanish accent, faking sincerity as she said, "So, Nate, how have you been doing as of late?"
He remembers smiling back, taking another sip, "Rather tired."
"Oh," she said sympathetically. "Perhaps you just need to sleep in late one of these days."
She traced his jaw with a finger, and the martini was kicking in, his stomach dropped and suddenly, he felt like the room was spinning, way too much for a martini.
The rest of the evening, blank.
He woke up in a bed-and-breakfast 10 miles from the party they'd met in, and according to the Italian lady who ran the place, he'd been dragged in by his "wife", who had gone out to pay the taxi driver but never came back in.
His gun was gone, as were his shoes, and he walked back to his hotel after paying the lady at the bed-and-breakfast.
"I hope you find her!" the lady told him cheerfully, counting the bills.
"As do I," Nathan replied, grinding his teeth. "Some honeymoon this is."
**
It's not so much that he can't remember Paris or Tuscany.
It's more that he would rather not remember them so vividly.
* The Slovenia thing is simply ridiculous, considering Slovenia has never had a line of royals and the actual country was born out a pan-Slavic nationalist movement to oppose the Austria-Hungarian rule. She could've fooled him the first time, but he likes to think of himself as one of the Americans that don't consider reading a vice.
And then this purely banter-filled cracky, fluffy whatever.
whipped
leverage, team + nathan/sophie, circa 500 words, pg. spoilers up to 1x08. sorry for godawful pun title. *headdesk*
Eliot dropped the suitcase on the table. "Your luggage, Mr and Mrs Baker."
"What?" Nate asked as Sophie opened the suitcase.
"Oh," she said. "It's this one."
"Put that away," Nate said irritably even before she had a chance to pull out the leather whip. "How did it get here?"
"All the ID's trace back to various PO boxes, once a month we go pick it up. I guess after the crash they sent the luggage you never picked up back to the address," Eliot explained.
"Yeah, well, that's great," Nate said, sitting up in his chair and picking the suitcase up. "Now let's throw it out."
"There could be something of use there," Sophie protested, grabbing hold of the case.
"Oh, are you kidding me?" Nate sighed as Eliot began to back out of the conference room. "And where are you going?"
Eliot blinked just as Hardison walked past, holding a cup of noodle soup. "Marital disputes, man," Hardison said. "No use getting involved."
"We're not married," Nate replied, slowly and patiently.
Sophie grabbed the suitcase from his hands just then. "I'm sending it back to Lost and Found."
She walked out and Nate sat back down. "You guys really ought to stop saying things like that."
"Sure, put this on us," Hardison said. "But do the math for yourself, dude. Neither of you are sleeping with anybody but she wouldn't like you to sleep with somebody not-her and vice versa."
"But you're not having sex together, either," Eliot added.
"And she wants you to get a hold of yourself," Hardison said.
"And you're always arguing about things that don't really matter," Elison continued.
"The point is, even if you're not married, you might as well be," Hardison finished.
Nate looked at them in silence for a while. "You guys really need to get lives."
"Well, he does," Eliot said.
"Says the guy who asked me which country they speak C++ in." Hardison rolled his eyes.
"I was being sarcastic."
"How about the time you didn't know how to turn off capslock?"
"That was just to piss you off."
"You shouldn't mess with me, I can always dodge a fist but technology can hinder you a million different ways..."
"Why don't we put that theory to the test, then..."
"Nate!" Sophie's voice rang from her office. "Could you come here for a moment?"
Nate got up instinctively and then paused, seeing the two guys staring at him. "Don't you dare say anything."
A grin spread across Hardison's face as Eliot raised his eye brows.
"Don't keep the lady waiting," Eliot said.
"You know what, just.." Nate began but sighed mid-sentence, turning around to walk out of the room. "Nevermind!"
"Say hi to the missus for us, Mr Baker!" Hardison yelled after him as Eliot cracked up next to him.
"What's going on in here?" Parker asked, suddenly materializing between Hardison and Eliot. "Does anybody smell that?"
"Probably just these noodles," Hardison said.
"No," Parker replied. "It smells like money. Sssss...Spanish money. Wait. No. Basque!"
Looking triumphant, she exited the room.
***
Author's note: Gah, I feel like I'm not *really* nailing the character voices yet but I'm like ..getting somewhere with them. It's first date. We'll see how things go from here.
I should also point out Slovenian royal families, PO boxes and basically everything might not work like how I make it work out. But you know, this is a show where a dude hacks elevators so ... I'm allowed some leeway with facts, right?
But OMFG when Hardison and Eliot visit and Eliot is all ~smooth-talker~ to the laydee and Hardison is all "Well, if you want to play it like that.." and ...yeah, awesome. "I'm with him. I'm with him." and Eliot's face ahahahaha. Perfect. Just perfect.
And aww, Parker making progress. Bless her. I think her happy pills end up in OT3 with her & Eliot & Hardison, Y/Y? Ahem. I mean. My mind steers clear of the gutter at all times.
So I kind of wrote fic for this show. Considering the latest ep, I'd say both pieces take place before that point in canon and wouldn't leave my head until I wrote them so they're kind of hurriedly written but, uhh, here they are. :D
three steps forward, three steps back
leverage, nathan/sophie, around 1,000 words, pg-13. spoilers up to 1x08 the mile high job. i don't own anything related to leverage.
"I don't see how you could confuse Paris and Tuscany," Sophie says, but to Nathan the connection is quite clear.
The red dress.
In Paris she feels a little like at home, though she was born and raised in London by elite French immigrants, so she never goes for anything grand, and even though some may know her as Princess of Slovenia*, she still has to wear the same dress twice.
**
In Paris, just because he was there and she was there, Sophie decided to play another round of their little game. All he saw was a woman at the bar, a fine figure draped in a red dress, and when he approached her, she spilled her drink all over his coat (to snatch his wallet, he much later came to realize). They made for small-talk that evening, and she showed him back to his hotel, because French street names gave him a headache.
"I'm not chasing you around, Sophie," he told her at some point during the night. "You can tell me what kind of scam you're pulling this time."
"You don't have to chase me, Nate," she replied with a smile. "I'm already here."
And she was there, so there and in that dress, and he let his guard down for the evening. He was after a Norwegian art thief, and Sophie wasn't it. She never had a taste for Cubism. Too crude.
She told him she was researching a role, a Parisian baker's daughter who ends up shoving her head in an oven.
"In Paris?" he commented. "Can't blame her."
Sophie gave him a look but he knew that even she wasn't crazy about the French. It wasn't her home, not really. In England she probably felt too French, in France too English. Nationless.
When they departed, she pressed three kisses on his cheeks.
"You're really not going to invite me in for a night cap, Nate?" she asked him then. "So rude of you. You know, when in Rome.."
"..don't get eaten by lions," he replied as she took a step closer, pulling his hand into hers. "I'd rather I still have all my belongings tomorrow morning."
"You haven't got any money, Nate," she said with a laugh, really, very close now.
"But I do still have both my kidneys," he said and pulled his hand away politely. "Goodnight, Sophie."
The wallet arrived to the American Embassy in Paris a week later, with a note in French, an apology, "Je suis désolé." and an address to the bakery with the biggest oven in Paris. It was stamped on LA. She was clearly toying with him.
He visited the bakery every day until he left the city. He's still not sure why.
**
In Tuscany, she was in the same dress, but acting as a millionaire's widow from Spain. This time he was chasing her, but the goods were elsewhere, possibly Switzerland, Portugal, Hungary. She seemed to have connections, aliases, fake PO boxes and addresses in every country, and a million more outside Europe.
The bad thing about diamonds was that they could be anywhere. And riffling through condos in seven European cities, trying to get a hold of her bank accounts in four countries, none of this would actually get him both the goods and the criminal.
And yet, with all of this going on, all he could think about was that dress. He approached her again, playing it cool like in Paris, but this time she knew he was after her. Her smiles widened and she glued herself to his side, her previous victim forgotten by now, and he allowed this to happen (just because of the dress, he told himself).
But the thing about Sophie wasn't that she looked good in a dress or knew how to flirt subtly enough for it not to raise that much suspicion in him. She was, quite simply put, incredibly smart and even more incredibly fast. They'd barely spoken to each other for ten minutes when the bartender made him another martini. All it did was pass her hands as she gave it to him with a smile.
He took a sip, then another, as she was leaning close again and dropping the Spanish accent, faking sincerity as she said, "So, Nate, how have you been doing as of late?"
He remembers smiling back, taking another sip, "Rather tired."
"Oh," she said sympathetically. "Perhaps you just need to sleep in late one of these days."
She traced his jaw with a finger, and the martini was kicking in, his stomach dropped and suddenly, he felt like the room was spinning, way too much for a martini.
The rest of the evening, blank.
He woke up in a bed-and-breakfast 10 miles from the party they'd met in, and according to the Italian lady who ran the place, he'd been dragged in by his "wife", who had gone out to pay the taxi driver but never came back in.
His gun was gone, as were his shoes, and he walked back to his hotel after paying the lady at the bed-and-breakfast.
"I hope you find her!" the lady told him cheerfully, counting the bills.
"As do I," Nathan replied, grinding his teeth. "Some honeymoon this is."
**
It's not so much that he can't remember Paris or Tuscany.
It's more that he would rather not remember them so vividly.
* The Slovenia thing is simply ridiculous, considering Slovenia has never had a line of royals and the actual country was born out a pan-Slavic nationalist movement to oppose the Austria-Hungarian rule. She could've fooled him the first time, but he likes to think of himself as one of the Americans that don't consider reading a vice.
And then this purely banter-filled cracky, fluffy whatever.
whipped
leverage, team + nathan/sophie, circa 500 words, pg. spoilers up to 1x08. sorry for godawful pun title. *headdesk*
Eliot dropped the suitcase on the table. "Your luggage, Mr and Mrs Baker."
"What?" Nate asked as Sophie opened the suitcase.
"Oh," she said. "It's this one."
"Put that away," Nate said irritably even before she had a chance to pull out the leather whip. "How did it get here?"
"All the ID's trace back to various PO boxes, once a month we go pick it up. I guess after the crash they sent the luggage you never picked up back to the address," Eliot explained.
"Yeah, well, that's great," Nate said, sitting up in his chair and picking the suitcase up. "Now let's throw it out."
"There could be something of use there," Sophie protested, grabbing hold of the case.
"Oh, are you kidding me?" Nate sighed as Eliot began to back out of the conference room. "And where are you going?"
Eliot blinked just as Hardison walked past, holding a cup of noodle soup. "Marital disputes, man," Hardison said. "No use getting involved."
"We're not married," Nate replied, slowly and patiently.
Sophie grabbed the suitcase from his hands just then. "I'm sending it back to Lost and Found."
She walked out and Nate sat back down. "You guys really ought to stop saying things like that."
"Sure, put this on us," Hardison said. "But do the math for yourself, dude. Neither of you are sleeping with anybody but she wouldn't like you to sleep with somebody not-her and vice versa."
"But you're not having sex together, either," Eliot added.
"And she wants you to get a hold of yourself," Hardison said.
"And you're always arguing about things that don't really matter," Elison continued.
"The point is, even if you're not married, you might as well be," Hardison finished.
Nate looked at them in silence for a while. "You guys really need to get lives."
"Well, he does," Eliot said.
"Says the guy who asked me which country they speak C++ in." Hardison rolled his eyes.
"I was being sarcastic."
"How about the time you didn't know how to turn off capslock?"
"That was just to piss you off."
"You shouldn't mess with me, I can always dodge a fist but technology can hinder you a million different ways..."
"Why don't we put that theory to the test, then..."
"Nate!" Sophie's voice rang from her office. "Could you come here for a moment?"
Nate got up instinctively and then paused, seeing the two guys staring at him. "Don't you dare say anything."
A grin spread across Hardison's face as Eliot raised his eye brows.
"Don't keep the lady waiting," Eliot said.
"You know what, just.." Nate began but sighed mid-sentence, turning around to walk out of the room. "Nevermind!"
"Say hi to the missus for us, Mr Baker!" Hardison yelled after him as Eliot cracked up next to him.
"What's going on in here?" Parker asked, suddenly materializing between Hardison and Eliot. "Does anybody smell that?"
"Probably just these noodles," Hardison said.
"No," Parker replied. "It smells like money. Sssss...Spanish money. Wait. No. Basque!"
Looking triumphant, she exited the room.
***
Author's note: Gah, I feel like I'm not *really* nailing the character voices yet but I'm like ..getting somewhere with them. It's first date. We'll see how things go from here.
I should also point out Slovenian royal families, PO boxes and basically everything might not work like how I make it work out. But you know, this is a show where a dude hacks elevators so ... I'm allowed some leeway with facts, right?