Happy belated birthday Ziggee & Nikki!!
Ok, so these are late! I'm sorry guys, I am, but here's your presents at last. It's been fun getting to know you and chatting on twitter and yes! I hope this year finds you better than last. ♥
The usual song and dance, rating and warnings in the cuts.
First, for ice_ziggee:
Spy!verse, Linguist!Chris/Spy!Steve, Job well done:
There are few things more satisfying for Christian than finishing a project, especially working with Anderson and his students --the hours surrounded by texts and artifacts, arguing over context and dating, until finally, finally they come up with a coherent piece-- but this is definitely one of them.
Coming home to find Steven home from a mission himself, whole and unharmed, passed out on the bed without ever having pulled the blankets back, without ever even undressing. Chris smiles to himself as he crawls into bed beside him, earning little more than one eye cracked open before pulling Chris closer.
Spy!verse, Linguist!Chris/Spy!Steve, Explosion:
There's a long moment where he's not really hearing anything, just feels the violent trembles through the floor where he's braced over Christian, just watches the way the dust and debris flies and falls as though through water. Steve's moving again before his hearing has come back, pulling Chris up from the floor, pulling him back and away. He pulls the gun without thinking, keeping Chris covered, firing on instinct when the bastards finally raised their heads.
Steampunk!RPS, Steve/Christ, Notes that calm the sea (or mood):
Christian does not belong here, does not belong in these clothes and certainly does not deserve to be --how did Lord Hutton say it?-- Master Carlson's companion for the evening, a fact which Madam Lauren Holly has repeatedly and emphatically made clear (albeit hardly in so many words). Steven surprises him, leaning in close from behind while someone --some merchant that manages to bore even Master Morgan, a feat Christian hadn't ever quite thought possible-- gave a speech; he hums under his breath, only just barely loud enough for Christian to hear. Christian nearly blushes and cannot help leaning back slightly, trying to hear more, trying to catch the notes of the song his mother used to sing...
RPS, Chris/Steve, Flesh:
It's the slow hot slide of skin against sweat slicked skin, tans from the summer sun flushed crimson with want, muscles strained tight with need, the burn and the pressure, and it isn't enough. Steven pulls at Chris, fingers digging into his shoulder, his back, his hips, pulls him closer, deeper, wanting as much contact as possible, wanting everything. He can feel it building in every muscle, in every breath, and it's this, right now, this crescendo of connection, and there's never enough.
RPS, Chris/Steve, Fierce:
People tend not to get Christian, tend to take one look at his intensity and write him off as a jerk, as some angry hick with a chip on his shoulder. But it takes a certain kind of person to look someone in the face and never look them in the eye; make no mistake, Christian is fierce, enough you never want to be on his bad side and god help you if you cross someone he gives two shits about. But when I look at those baby blues, I see something else --intelligence and passion and things I won't give words for where anyone else can hear.
And for serenelystrange:
Leverage, E & H - Jenga:
Nate glares at the game --not as much because Eliot and Hardison have set it up on his coffee table, or the way that only Eliot and Hardison were allowed to touch the damn thing, but more because Sam had loved the stupid game-- and drinks his coffee and tries to glare at the mark on the screen instead of the two men, because there's no way this game can last for long. It's still there the next day though; apparently Eliot and Hardison are going at this like a long term chess game, removing pieces in passing and with careful precision, a fact which only makes sense when Nate realizes there's a bet involved.
Of course, he probably should have pressed someone for details --he really could have gone without walking in and seeing that, on his coffee table (and the Jenga pieces no less!)-- although at least he knows to buy a new coffee table...
Leverage, Team - Ebay:
"You bought what from where?" Eliot grinds out, fists dangerously tight and shoulder twitching like he might be swinging in Hardison's direction any moment now, which Parker thinks is funny because honestly, Eliot would never ever on pain of his own death actually hurt Hardison even a little. Nate just sighs like he's giving up on having any peace in their house, gesturing vaguely to the new cutlery sitting still wrapped next to the sink.
"I did my research man," Hardison squeaks, backing up til he's flat against the sink, "They're Wusthof, right, family owned since 1814 or whatever, precision forged, you know... ain't that good?"
---
"This is not acid etched," Eliot says a little later, very carefully, like it's important, as he holds out his own knives. "It's Japanese steel folded forty-five time, handcrafted, with rare hardwood handles. William Henry Studio, very distinctive, also: not on freakin' Ebay."
Leverage, H - secret romance novel collection:
He keeps it in the panic room in his apartment --yes, he has one, and no, it's not in there because he wants them in there when he's hiding and trying to hack his way out of whatever the fuck sent him scurrying in there to begin with-- and speaks of them to no one. He orders them online, bouncing them through three different identities and bank accounts and altering their shipping data in the computer himself so anyone that might look would never guess, ever.
"I don't get it," Parker says, sitting crosslegged under his desk in the panic room and mostly oblivious to the way he yelps like a girl, "why do they all care about her bosom?"
Leverage, P - mall of america:
It's like Christmas --Christmas and Candyland and the fair and a hotel all wrapped up into one-- and she doesn't know where to start. She takes one whole day to case the security systems on just the stores she might want things from, and another on their bank. Eventually she remembers to try the roller coaster, if only because Hardison would give her that look again if she never even stood in line.
Leverage, A/C - double secret pentration:
"'S quite a slip up," Eliot says, crowding Hardison into the wall, in the corner where the others can't actually see the way Eliot's thigh is pressed between his legs or just how the purr of Eliot's voice is affecting him, "considerin' I didn't figure you for the type t'go for that."
"I, uh, I..." Hardison stutters, not even sure how he's still swallowing air just now, not sure the whole team doesn't know exactly what's going on over here and can't bring themselves --or are too smart-- to interrupt.
Eliot hums in approval --at what, Hardison can't begin to guess-- and leans in a little more before saying, "I'm gonna have so much fun with you..."
The usual song and dance, rating and warnings in the cuts.
First, for ice_ziggee:
Spy!verse, Linguist!Chris/Spy!Steve, Job well done:
There are few things more satisfying for Christian than finishing a project, especially working with Anderson and his students --the hours surrounded by texts and artifacts, arguing over context and dating, until finally, finally they come up with a coherent piece-- but this is definitely one of them.
Coming home to find Steven home from a mission himself, whole and unharmed, passed out on the bed without ever having pulled the blankets back, without ever even undressing. Chris smiles to himself as he crawls into bed beside him, earning little more than one eye cracked open before pulling Chris closer.
Spy!verse, Linguist!Chris/Spy!Steve, Explosion:
There's a long moment where he's not really hearing anything, just feels the violent trembles through the floor where he's braced over Christian, just watches the way the dust and debris flies and falls as though through water. Steve's moving again before his hearing has come back, pulling Chris up from the floor, pulling him back and away. He pulls the gun without thinking, keeping Chris covered, firing on instinct when the bastards finally raised their heads.
Steampunk!RPS, Steve/Christ, Notes that calm the sea (or mood):
Christian does not belong here, does not belong in these clothes and certainly does not deserve to be --how did Lord Hutton say it?-- Master Carlson's companion for the evening, a fact which Madam Lauren Holly has repeatedly and emphatically made clear (albeit hardly in so many words). Steven surprises him, leaning in close from behind while someone --some merchant that manages to bore even Master Morgan, a feat Christian hadn't ever quite thought possible-- gave a speech; he hums under his breath, only just barely loud enough for Christian to hear. Christian nearly blushes and cannot help leaning back slightly, trying to hear more, trying to catch the notes of the song his mother used to sing...
RPS, Chris/Steve, Flesh:
It's the slow hot slide of skin against sweat slicked skin, tans from the summer sun flushed crimson with want, muscles strained tight with need, the burn and the pressure, and it isn't enough. Steven pulls at Chris, fingers digging into his shoulder, his back, his hips, pulls him closer, deeper, wanting as much contact as possible, wanting everything. He can feel it building in every muscle, in every breath, and it's this, right now, this crescendo of connection, and there's never enough.
RPS, Chris/Steve, Fierce:
People tend not to get Christian, tend to take one look at his intensity and write him off as a jerk, as some angry hick with a chip on his shoulder. But it takes a certain kind of person to look someone in the face and never look them in the eye; make no mistake, Christian is fierce, enough you never want to be on his bad side and god help you if you cross someone he gives two shits about. But when I look at those baby blues, I see something else --intelligence and passion and things I won't give words for where anyone else can hear.
And for serenelystrange:
Leverage, E & H - Jenga:
Nate glares at the game --not as much because Eliot and Hardison have set it up on his coffee table, or the way that only Eliot and Hardison were allowed to touch the damn thing, but more because Sam had loved the stupid game-- and drinks his coffee and tries to glare at the mark on the screen instead of the two men, because there's no way this game can last for long. It's still there the next day though; apparently Eliot and Hardison are going at this like a long term chess game, removing pieces in passing and with careful precision, a fact which only makes sense when Nate realizes there's a bet involved.
Of course, he probably should have pressed someone for details --he really could have gone without walking in and seeing that, on his coffee table (and the Jenga pieces no less!)-- although at least he knows to buy a new coffee table...
Leverage, Team - Ebay:
"You bought what from where?" Eliot grinds out, fists dangerously tight and shoulder twitching like he might be swinging in Hardison's direction any moment now, which Parker thinks is funny because honestly, Eliot would never ever on pain of his own death actually hurt Hardison even a little. Nate just sighs like he's giving up on having any peace in their house, gesturing vaguely to the new cutlery sitting still wrapped next to the sink.
"I did my research man," Hardison squeaks, backing up til he's flat against the sink, "They're Wusthof, right, family owned since 1814 or whatever, precision forged, you know... ain't that good?"
---
"This is not acid etched," Eliot says a little later, very carefully, like it's important, as he holds out his own knives. "It's Japanese steel folded forty-five time, handcrafted, with rare hardwood handles. William Henry Studio, very distinctive, also: not on freakin' Ebay."
Leverage, H - secret romance novel collection:
He keeps it in the panic room in his apartment --yes, he has one, and no, it's not in there because he wants them in there when he's hiding and trying to hack his way out of whatever the fuck sent him scurrying in there to begin with-- and speaks of them to no one. He orders them online, bouncing them through three different identities and bank accounts and altering their shipping data in the computer himself so anyone that might look would never guess, ever.
"I don't get it," Parker says, sitting crosslegged under his desk in the panic room and mostly oblivious to the way he yelps like a girl, "why do they all care about her bosom?"
Leverage, P - mall of america:
It's like Christmas --Christmas and Candyland and the fair and a hotel all wrapped up into one-- and she doesn't know where to start. She takes one whole day to case the security systems on just the stores she might want things from, and another on their bank. Eventually she remembers to try the roller coaster, if only because Hardison would give her that look again if she never even stood in line.
Leverage, A/C - double secret pentration:
"'S quite a slip up," Eliot says, crowding Hardison into the wall, in the corner where the others can't actually see the way Eliot's thigh is pressed between his legs or just how the purr of Eliot's voice is affecting him, "considerin' I didn't figure you for the type t'go for that."
"I, uh, I..." Hardison stutters, not even sure how he's still swallowing air just now, not sure the whole team doesn't know exactly what's going on over here and can't bring themselves --or are too smart-- to interrupt.
Eliot hums in approval --at what, Hardison can't begin to guess-- and leans in a little more before saying, "I'm gonna have so much fun with you..."