[100_tales] Please Slow Down
Title: Please Slow Down
Author: defy_n_gravity
Prompt: 100_tales: 56. Together
Song Writing Ficathon: Scary Fragile by Butterfly Boucher: Track One: I Found Out: video here, lyrics here
Characters: Nathan Ford/Sophie Devereaux
Rating: M
Words: 2171
Disclaimer: I have no claim on Leverage or any of it's characters, I'm only using them for fun. No harm is intended.
Warning: Spoilers for 3x16: The San Lorenzo Job, and details on what happened at the end.
Author's Notes: So I've been trying to write this ever since the finale. I think that Sophie and Nate are too big to ignore this missing scene, so I had to write it. Well, I had to write how it would go in my head. I'm sure canon will find a way to make this all null and void, but I don't care. Also I had planned on only using my album ficathon on crossovers, but then I saw this song and it worked too well for this piece, so I'm using it.
Summary: What can I put here that won't spoil the episode?
"I found out, I can only be who I am, I can only do what I can, I won't try to describe the relief...
And the rush, where did the panic and the racket begin? I swear I don't remember letting them in, wow could this possibly be happening? again....
Please slow down, we don't need to be anywhere but here, please slow down..."
It was just supposed to be a drink. He hadn't meant anything more by it. Maybe he shouldn't have asked, and maybe she shouldn't have encouraged it, but they went. It was good. It was better than it had been in a long time. They were joking and laughing, and more importantly they were laughing together.
The bar was dimly lit around them and they kept secluded to their little booth. For the first and second round they were across from each other. Somewhere after the third they were side by side, and they were turned to one another as they spoke and laughed. While waiting with empty glasses tones got quieter and their heads dipped closer. Whatever the conversation, it was only meant for each other.
Another round came, and maybe another...they couldn't be sure, they had lost count.
He was happy. Happy that she was there, happy that she was enjoying her time with him. How long had it been since they had just had fun? It didn't matter to him where things did or didn't go, as long as she was beside him. He wasn't drinking to make memories easier to handle, or to bury things that were too painful or frightening to say. He was drinking because that happened to be how he was spending his evening with her.
There was something about him that made it easier for her to be there. Something in his eyes, the way they crinkled more from his smiles. There was something in his tone, and the way he let his glass sit in front of him on the table. For so long whenever there was a glass before him, filled with liquor, he gripped it. He held onto it like it was his saving grace. As though it were the only thing that could keep his head above water. Except now he wasn't. Now he was looking at her, and he was laughing, and he seemed so much more like her Nate. The Nate she had known ages ago, the man she...well, whatever those feelings had been. They had been for him, not the Nate that been surging back and forth in her life with the team over the past few years. A part of him had been Nate, but like she had once told him, he wasn't the same man. That night, though...that night she was reminded of that man he had been. He was there again, beside her and with her, and she didn't want that man to be replaced again.
He was leaned in close and his word were whispered against her ear. “You know, I don't really care what your name is.” It had come from nowhere, but it had been on his lips for weeks. Her eyes dropped shut with a sigh, her body heavy from the alcohol.
“No?” She asked.
“Mmm,” he sighed and shook his head. He couldn't close his eyes or tear them away. In front of him was the curve of her neck and the slope of her jaw, and he could smell her shampoo and perfume and every scent that made up her. He breathed her in slowly and his eyes gazed against her face.
She was well aware of how close he was and she could feel his eyes on her, but she kept her gaze forward. Her body warmed up through and through in a way that he hadn't caused in a long time. “How's that?” Her words were barely a whisper to match his.
“All this talk of...burying Sophie Devereaux...of what is or isn't your name...” He watched a wisp of her hair fall out of place against her cheek and he reached out to put it back. His fingertips grazed her skin in the motion and he watched her suck her breath in slightly. He fell silent for several beats and took his hand away from her skin. It fell between them and he leaned it to the seat of the booth. “It's just you,” he finally said.
“What is?” Her chin fell a bit, her eyes still closed, as she tried not to let that touch still burn at her skin. But it did, and everything else started to burn in its wake. She actually wanted him to put the touch back, or move it, or-
“You,” Nate replied, cutting her thoughts off. “You're not a name or a back-story...you're you. After everything we've been through all...all you've ever been to me is you.” Maybe his words weren't making any sense, and maybe he was drunk, but he knew what he meant. “Your face...the way you say my name...the things you do...the name is the last thing that matters to me.”
“You always wanted Sophie Devereaux,” she whispered. “That was the chase. The game. She was the conquest.”
“I wanted you,” he interrupted. “There was no...game, no conquest. Just a goal.”
Her lips closed tightly at his words. She was drunk also, but she understood what he was trying to say. What he was saying. She opened her eyes and brought her head up a bit to look at him. “Nate..”
“You,” he murmured. Then he closed the small wedge of space between them and slowly, tentatively, set his lips to hers. Her hand came up to his cheek as she leaned into it. She didn't return it right away, but she wasn't shoving him off either. Nothing was making a whole lot of sense then, between the words and the alcohol, and the sudden heat that was circulating the booth. Too much heat to think clearly through.
“Nate,” she murmured it again, this time against his mouth, but there wasn't anything else to follow. Maybe it had been to stop him, maybe to suggest she go, but nothing else came out. Instead the kiss deepened and his hand lifted from the seat of the booth to wrap warmly around her arm.
Maybe it was five minutes or maybe it was twenty, but sometime later they were in the elevator. Her back was to the wall and his body was flush against hers. He could feel her every curve against him, molded close, just as he had desired for over a decade. It was all blurry. The motions, the thoughts, the feelings. But it felt good. It felt good and right and he didn't know how to stop it. He didn't want to stop it.
Breathing was hard for her with him so close and with their mouths linked, but she didn't care. She wasn't thinking enough to care. It all felt too damn good, and it had been a long time since something had felt so good to her. It had been a long time since being near him had felt so good. She didn't want to breathe, she just wanted to feel more.
The elevator doors opened and they didn't even try to pretend to go their separate ways. They pulled apart long enough to stumble down the hallway, and when they came to a stop at his door she leaned against it. Her breath was hard and sharp as she watched him. He watched back as his heart thudded in his chest.
The running and the chasing and the waiting, it had all been sexy. It couldn't not be sexy. He had lusted after her for a long time, and he used to try to tell himself it was all a part of the chase, that the lust came from the game. But right then he was looking at her and he had never felt that much lust in his life, and he knew that it wasn't about chasing her. It was about being with her. It was about having her weight in his arms, feeling her skin against his, and just having her. It was about finally catching her and never letting her go again. It wasn't the lust of a quick drunken tryst, it was the lust of loving someone in a way that surpassed words.
Her fingers curled on the knob behind her and she leaned backwards into the door to push the door open. She saw everything flashing through his eyes, and it only made her want it more. He wanted her, just her, and that was everything at the moment. She took his hand and pulled him through the door.
He went where pulled and pushed the door shut behind himself. He paused as they stood on the other side of what could be a bad decision. They were on the line. The very thin, very drunken line. He was drunk, but he was also used to being drunk. He could still think when he was drunk. It was just her that was making it hard for him. She was what he was drunk off of more than anything else.
His head shook and he backed up to the door. “Maybe...maybe we shouldn't..”
Her head shook with his and she moved up to him. “You started this, you may as well see it through.”
“Soph...” Her named tumbled off his lips the way it always did, with his tone leaving so much unsaid, but still able to reveal how much he cared about her. He did want her. God did he. He wanted her so bad he couldn't see anything in the room but her. He had tunnel vision, and she was on the other end.
She was drunk though. She wasn't used to drinking as much as he was, or as much as they had, and with everything else going between them in the moment she was just there. In it. She came to a stop just inches from him, but she didn't touch him. Her eyes met his and she just held his gaze.
It burned through him. He could feel the air that they were building reverberating off of her into him, and it slammed in his chest. His fingers itched to be on her skin again. His head still shook.
“Stop thinking, Nate,” she finally murmured. “For once in your bloody life...stop thinking.”
His eyes dropped shut at those words and everything stopped. For the briefest second his entire world shifted to a pause around him and he opened his eyes again. Still all that he saw was her. And in the next instant he was moving towards her, and his hands were gliding up her arms.
His mouth found hers again and he felt her arms circle his neck. He pulled her body tight to his again and just kissed her. He kissed her with everything he had and started to back her towards the bed. They tumbled onto the mattress, hands already roaming, fighting to free each other of clothing.
It was awkward and impatient, and limbs kept bumping into limbs as clothing began to fall to the bed and the floor, anywhere but on their bodies. He was over her, then under, as they tangled together and tried to find something comfortable.
And then it fell into place. In an instant their bodies found that perfect fit, and fluidly moved together. They always had worked well together. They could always guess the next step the other was going to make, and be right there with them. They were flawless together when they were at their best. At that moment, they were better than their best. Everything worked and they only propelled each other to being better. Just as it always had been.
In a moment that their eyes met and locked, he told her everything. In his mind he let it all out, and she saw it. For just that moment he gave her everything of himself and opened a window in his eyes that he tried so hard to keep closed. She met him in it and couldn't help but do the same. They held that clear stare for awhile, before her hand found his cheek, and he leaned in to tenderly kiss her.
When they finally came down, no words were uttered. He stretched out at his side and she on her back. His fingers still moved against her, brushing her arm and her shoulder, anything to keep that warmth flowing between them. She curled into the touch and he pulled her close against his chest. Both arms wrapped around her as he waited for his heartbeat to slow.
Everything was fuzzier than before, but more relaxed than it ever had been. Neither knew what to say or even cared to try. They just relaxed against each other and let sleep start to pull them down. There could be words in the morning, or there could be none. Everything could change or they could pretend it never happened. There was no telling what daylight would bring, but at the moment it didn't matter. All that mattered was...
The sound of each other breathing, the sound of their heartbeats slowing into matching rhythm, and how completely comfortable it was to lay in each others arms as they fell asleep.
Author: defy_n_gravity
Prompt: 100_tales: 56. Together
Song Writing Ficathon: Scary Fragile by Butterfly Boucher: Track One: I Found Out: video here, lyrics here
Characters: Nathan Ford/Sophie Devereaux
Rating: M
Words: 2171
Disclaimer: I have no claim on Leverage or any of it's characters, I'm only using them for fun. No harm is intended.
Warning: Spoilers for 3x16: The San Lorenzo Job, and details on what happened at the end.
Author's Notes: So I've been trying to write this ever since the finale. I think that Sophie and Nate are too big to ignore this missing scene, so I had to write it. Well, I had to write how it would go in my head. I'm sure canon will find a way to make this all null and void, but I don't care. Also I had planned on only using my album ficathon on crossovers, but then I saw this song and it worked too well for this piece, so I'm using it.
Summary: What can I put here that won't spoil the episode?
"I found out, I can only be who I am, I can only do what I can, I won't try to describe the relief...
And the rush, where did the panic and the racket begin? I swear I don't remember letting them in, wow could this possibly be happening? again....
Please slow down, we don't need to be anywhere but here, please slow down..."
It was just supposed to be a drink. He hadn't meant anything more by it. Maybe he shouldn't have asked, and maybe she shouldn't have encouraged it, but they went. It was good. It was better than it had been in a long time. They were joking and laughing, and more importantly they were laughing together.
The bar was dimly lit around them and they kept secluded to their little booth. For the first and second round they were across from each other. Somewhere after the third they were side by side, and they were turned to one another as they spoke and laughed. While waiting with empty glasses tones got quieter and their heads dipped closer. Whatever the conversation, it was only meant for each other.
Another round came, and maybe another...they couldn't be sure, they had lost count.
He was happy. Happy that she was there, happy that she was enjoying her time with him. How long had it been since they had just had fun? It didn't matter to him where things did or didn't go, as long as she was beside him. He wasn't drinking to make memories easier to handle, or to bury things that were too painful or frightening to say. He was drinking because that happened to be how he was spending his evening with her.
There was something about him that made it easier for her to be there. Something in his eyes, the way they crinkled more from his smiles. There was something in his tone, and the way he let his glass sit in front of him on the table. For so long whenever there was a glass before him, filled with liquor, he gripped it. He held onto it like it was his saving grace. As though it were the only thing that could keep his head above water. Except now he wasn't. Now he was looking at her, and he was laughing, and he seemed so much more like her Nate. The Nate she had known ages ago, the man she...well, whatever those feelings had been. They had been for him, not the Nate that been surging back and forth in her life with the team over the past few years. A part of him had been Nate, but like she had once told him, he wasn't the same man. That night, though...that night she was reminded of that man he had been. He was there again, beside her and with her, and she didn't want that man to be replaced again.
He was leaned in close and his word were whispered against her ear. “You know, I don't really care what your name is.” It had come from nowhere, but it had been on his lips for weeks. Her eyes dropped shut with a sigh, her body heavy from the alcohol.
“No?” She asked.
“Mmm,” he sighed and shook his head. He couldn't close his eyes or tear them away. In front of him was the curve of her neck and the slope of her jaw, and he could smell her shampoo and perfume and every scent that made up her. He breathed her in slowly and his eyes gazed against her face.
She was well aware of how close he was and she could feel his eyes on her, but she kept her gaze forward. Her body warmed up through and through in a way that he hadn't caused in a long time. “How's that?” Her words were barely a whisper to match his.
“All this talk of...burying Sophie Devereaux...of what is or isn't your name...” He watched a wisp of her hair fall out of place against her cheek and he reached out to put it back. His fingertips grazed her skin in the motion and he watched her suck her breath in slightly. He fell silent for several beats and took his hand away from her skin. It fell between them and he leaned it to the seat of the booth. “It's just you,” he finally said.
“What is?” Her chin fell a bit, her eyes still closed, as she tried not to let that touch still burn at her skin. But it did, and everything else started to burn in its wake. She actually wanted him to put the touch back, or move it, or-
“You,” Nate replied, cutting her thoughts off. “You're not a name or a back-story...you're you. After everything we've been through all...all you've ever been to me is you.” Maybe his words weren't making any sense, and maybe he was drunk, but he knew what he meant. “Your face...the way you say my name...the things you do...the name is the last thing that matters to me.”
“You always wanted Sophie Devereaux,” she whispered. “That was the chase. The game. She was the conquest.”
“I wanted you,” he interrupted. “There was no...game, no conquest. Just a goal.”
Her lips closed tightly at his words. She was drunk also, but she understood what he was trying to say. What he was saying. She opened her eyes and brought her head up a bit to look at him. “Nate..”
“You,” he murmured. Then he closed the small wedge of space between them and slowly, tentatively, set his lips to hers. Her hand came up to his cheek as she leaned into it. She didn't return it right away, but she wasn't shoving him off either. Nothing was making a whole lot of sense then, between the words and the alcohol, and the sudden heat that was circulating the booth. Too much heat to think clearly through.
“Nate,” she murmured it again, this time against his mouth, but there wasn't anything else to follow. Maybe it had been to stop him, maybe to suggest she go, but nothing else came out. Instead the kiss deepened and his hand lifted from the seat of the booth to wrap warmly around her arm.
Maybe it was five minutes or maybe it was twenty, but sometime later they were in the elevator. Her back was to the wall and his body was flush against hers. He could feel her every curve against him, molded close, just as he had desired for over a decade. It was all blurry. The motions, the thoughts, the feelings. But it felt good. It felt good and right and he didn't know how to stop it. He didn't want to stop it.
Breathing was hard for her with him so close and with their mouths linked, but she didn't care. She wasn't thinking enough to care. It all felt too damn good, and it had been a long time since something had felt so good to her. It had been a long time since being near him had felt so good. She didn't want to breathe, she just wanted to feel more.
The elevator doors opened and they didn't even try to pretend to go their separate ways. They pulled apart long enough to stumble down the hallway, and when they came to a stop at his door she leaned against it. Her breath was hard and sharp as she watched him. He watched back as his heart thudded in his chest.
The running and the chasing and the waiting, it had all been sexy. It couldn't not be sexy. He had lusted after her for a long time, and he used to try to tell himself it was all a part of the chase, that the lust came from the game. But right then he was looking at her and he had never felt that much lust in his life, and he knew that it wasn't about chasing her. It was about being with her. It was about having her weight in his arms, feeling her skin against his, and just having her. It was about finally catching her and never letting her go again. It wasn't the lust of a quick drunken tryst, it was the lust of loving someone in a way that surpassed words.
Her fingers curled on the knob behind her and she leaned backwards into the door to push the door open. She saw everything flashing through his eyes, and it only made her want it more. He wanted her, just her, and that was everything at the moment. She took his hand and pulled him through the door.
He went where pulled and pushed the door shut behind himself. He paused as they stood on the other side of what could be a bad decision. They were on the line. The very thin, very drunken line. He was drunk, but he was also used to being drunk. He could still think when he was drunk. It was just her that was making it hard for him. She was what he was drunk off of more than anything else.
His head shook and he backed up to the door. “Maybe...maybe we shouldn't..”
Her head shook with his and she moved up to him. “You started this, you may as well see it through.”
“Soph...” Her named tumbled off his lips the way it always did, with his tone leaving so much unsaid, but still able to reveal how much he cared about her. He did want her. God did he. He wanted her so bad he couldn't see anything in the room but her. He had tunnel vision, and she was on the other end.
She was drunk though. She wasn't used to drinking as much as he was, or as much as they had, and with everything else going between them in the moment she was just there. In it. She came to a stop just inches from him, but she didn't touch him. Her eyes met his and she just held his gaze.
It burned through him. He could feel the air that they were building reverberating off of her into him, and it slammed in his chest. His fingers itched to be on her skin again. His head still shook.
“Stop thinking, Nate,” she finally murmured. “For once in your bloody life...stop thinking.”
His eyes dropped shut at those words and everything stopped. For the briefest second his entire world shifted to a pause around him and he opened his eyes again. Still all that he saw was her. And in the next instant he was moving towards her, and his hands were gliding up her arms.
His mouth found hers again and he felt her arms circle his neck. He pulled her body tight to his again and just kissed her. He kissed her with everything he had and started to back her towards the bed. They tumbled onto the mattress, hands already roaming, fighting to free each other of clothing.
It was awkward and impatient, and limbs kept bumping into limbs as clothing began to fall to the bed and the floor, anywhere but on their bodies. He was over her, then under, as they tangled together and tried to find something comfortable.
And then it fell into place. In an instant their bodies found that perfect fit, and fluidly moved together. They always had worked well together. They could always guess the next step the other was going to make, and be right there with them. They were flawless together when they were at their best. At that moment, they were better than their best. Everything worked and they only propelled each other to being better. Just as it always had been.
In a moment that their eyes met and locked, he told her everything. In his mind he let it all out, and she saw it. For just that moment he gave her everything of himself and opened a window in his eyes that he tried so hard to keep closed. She met him in it and couldn't help but do the same. They held that clear stare for awhile, before her hand found his cheek, and he leaned in to tenderly kiss her.
When they finally came down, no words were uttered. He stretched out at his side and she on her back. His fingers still moved against her, brushing her arm and her shoulder, anything to keep that warmth flowing between them. She curled into the touch and he pulled her close against his chest. Both arms wrapped around her as he waited for his heartbeat to slow.
Everything was fuzzier than before, but more relaxed than it ever had been. Neither knew what to say or even cared to try. They just relaxed against each other and let sleep start to pull them down. There could be words in the morning, or there could be none. Everything could change or they could pretend it never happened. There was no telling what daylight would bring, but at the moment it didn't matter. All that mattered was...
The sound of each other breathing, the sound of their heartbeats slowing into matching rhythm, and how completely comfortable it was to lay in each others arms as they fell asleep.