leverage fic: five times sophie went shopping (gen)
Oh I just got spoiled so badly for BSG. *hates the world so much right now*
Anyway, fic!
Title: Five Times Sophie Went Shopping
Pairing: Sophie, team, gen
Rating: teen
Notes: More teamy goodness. While I might still write pairing fic, I really think the OT5 is where my heart truly lies - I do so love this adorably dorktastic team. No spoilers. 1580 words.
1.
They were only a few yards away from crossing the threshold when Parker dug her heels in. Again. Sophie proceeded a few more steps before stopping and turning back.
"Parker," she said.
They'd been so close.
Parker's face was frozen in a state of extreme discomfort. "I don't want to go in there," she said. She sounded very certain about it.
Returning to her side, Sophie linked their arms in what would, for most people, be a comforting gesture, and for Parker - well, she was willing to try anything. She then tried, unsuccessfully, to draw her along. "We've been over this," she spoke soothingly. "This girl is fifteen. We need to get her to open up to us, she'll respond better to someone closer to her own age. And then there are her... issues."
"Yeah, about that."
"I'm saying, I think the two of you will get along quite well. You just need to find common ground. How are you at girl talk?"
Parker's nose wrinkled. "I don't understand the question."
Sophie held back a sigh. "Well," she patted Parker's arm, "let's just focus on the outfit, for now."
"Sophie!" Parker hissed. "It's Hot Topic."
"Yes, it is." With a sharp tug, Sophie finally got her moving again. "Anyway," she reasoned as they entered the store, "I think you'll look very nice in hot pink fishnets."
2.
"I just, I am telling you, that was Miley Cyrus in line behind us. Right there, two feet away."
Three sets of eyes looked up as the sound of Hardison and Sophie returning was followed by their appearance. The two of them were laden down with bags, which were summarily dumped in the middle of the conference table.
"And you can keep telling me," Sophie was saying, as she took her sunglasses off the top of her head and set down her cup of bubble tea, "but I still don't know who that is."
"She, well she is... very famous."
"Yeah, if you're a twelve year old girl," Eliot said. Reaching over the table, he began rifling through the spoils of their trip, clearly looking for something.
Hardison raised an eyebrow at him. "Well, you know who she is, apparently."
Eliot stopped, shifting uncomfortably. "I have nieces."
"You have a convenient excuse, is what you have."
"Yeah, so what's yours?"
"What is all this stuff?" Parker interrupted. Leaning forward, she sniffed at one of the bags lying nearest her before looking warily inside.
Sophie shrugged and took a seat. "Oh you know, just a few things."
"Essentials?" Nate said dryly.
"Check it," Hardison said, grabbing one of the bags. "We got matching berets."
"Oh yeah." With a laugh, Sophie accepted hers and put it on. "I wasn't convinced, but he talked me into it." She posed. "Hm?"
Hardison, his own beret tilted at an angle over one eye, pointed between the two of them. "This? Nah, there is no question. No question. Totally works." They bumped fists and then, as one, settled back in their seats, looking tired but highly satisfied.
"You didn't get me one?" Parker said, frowning. "I like hats."
Eliot, meanwhile, had given up his search amongst the bags and turned to complain to Nate. "Next time we send someone out to get lunch, man, those two are not going."
3.
Arms folded over her chest, Sophie eyed him critically.
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Nate said.
"How can you tell?"
"Well, all the laughing, for one."
"When it's really not funny at all. She's a very nice person, Nate. You make a cute couple."
Nate rolled his eyes to the ceiling, looking pained. "Yeah, I'm still not convinced this is the right way to play it."
"Why not?"
"She's old enough to be my mother!"
"Never stopped me," she muttered. As he stared at her, she added, "Well that's all the more reason to be extra sweet to her. I'm sure she's someone's mother. Anyway, she does like you. May as well use it." She ignored him as he continued to glower at her. "Who um, who was it, again? She said you reminded her of someone?"
Nate cleared his throat. "Humphrey Bogart."
Sophie smiled, her lips tight. It was the only way to hold back the serious laughter that was threatening to come out. "Well, it can only help us that she's so short-sighted."
"Hey."
She had to turn away then, her shoulders shaking. When she finally turned back, composure regained, she began holding ties up against his chest as he stood in disgruntled silence. Quickly selecting one or two to take with them, she set the lot aside. "Walk over there," she said, pointing.
Looking mutinous, he walked.
"Good, I like it - very old Hollywood, yeah I think this is the one. Walk that way? Very nice. Now do a little twirl."
As he stalked back across the fitting room toward her she laughed in earnest because his face - oh, it was really such a shame the others weren't here for this.
At her gesture, the tailor approached, nodding and making suggestions as she indicated a few changes at his shoulders and wrists. The man went to work with his pins. Then she took Nate by the shoulders and turned him so that his back was to them. She indicated again, only lower this time. "Tighter here," she said.
Nate tried to turn but she had him by the arm. "Sophie," he said warningly.
"Trust me. We want the pants tighter."
He brought his hands up and began massaging his temples. "Oh, payback's a bitch," he said in a deceptively calm tone that quite clearly conveyed the underlying threat.
Sophie just snorted. Exactly. But she said simply, "I hope you won't use language like that around dear old Mrs Weatherby." She smiled. "Otherwise, you know, I think this could be the beginning of -"
"Don't say it."
"Of a beautiful friendship."
4.
"Oh," came a voice, "I just love your hair! Can you tell me what you use on it?"
Sophie turned with a smile at the compliment - yes, her hair was a definite asset, she'd always been quite proud of it.
Then she stopped, her eyes narrowing, as she realised the gushing woman was not, in fact, addressing her.
"Well, Ma'am," Eliot smiled down at his new fan, "I'd tell you, but then I might have to kill you."
There was giggling, then. Sophie rolled her eyes and left him to it, skirting the Estée Lauder counter, braving the perfume gauntlet to finally make it over to the nail polish. He found her there a few minutes later, deliberating between quick-dry - convenient for the thief on the go - and high gloss finish.
"Made a new friend, did you?"
He held up a little slip of paper. "Phone number!"
"Wonderful." With a sigh, she put the little bottles back and turned to him. "I need a manicure," she announced.
"What, right now?"
"Can you find something to do while you wait?"
There was a pause, then he shrugged, lifting his hands to look at them. "In this business, you've got to look after your assets. Let's go."
There it was, her philosophy exactly. And to think she'd only brought him along to carry her bags.
As they set off together for an afternoon of pampering - she was going to wait until he was sitting down and committed before suggesting the facial - she glanced over at him. "So," she said, "what do you use on your hair?"
5.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Nate pass back in front of the shop front window.
The next time it happened, he turned his head to glare in at her, holding up his wrist to show her his watch very pointedly.
"I don't know," she said, reaching down to trace a finger over a strap. "Do they come in platinum?"
Out beyond the pacing figure, leaning against a parked car, Parker appeared to be asleep, her head on Hardison's shoulder, while Hardison tried to play with his iPhone without disturbing her. On Parker's other side, Eliot, arms folded over his chest, glowered at the world in general.
"We're actually out of the platinum, I'm sorry. I can order those in for you, or I could show you a platinum heel in this style here, or this one?"
She stood and took a few steps in front of the mirror. "I don't know, I think the gold might be growing on me."
The door opened then, and Nate leaned in the doorway, staring at her with an expression like he was going to try not to start yelling, but not very hard. "Sophie?" he said with a tight smile. "Are we almost done here?"
"What do you think?" She cast her eyes down to her feet. There was just such a fine line sometimes between high fashion and streetwalker.
He rubbed his forehead. "Soph, I just, I could not care about the shoes if I tried? Just, we've been out here for a while, so -" he broke off, gesturing manically.
She exchanged a look with the girl helping her. "Men," she sighed, and swivelled back to the mirror.
"Your husband?" the girl asked once Nate had made a noise of extreme frustration and ducked back outside.
"No. Why would I need one of those?" She made another half turn. Smiled. Reached for her purse, handed over a card. "I'll take them in platinum, too. Do you deliver?"