Charcoal
Title: Charcoal
Fandoms: NCIS/Leverage crossover.
Rating: G
Word Count: 1100
Summary: Abby gets a call from one of her favorite hackers. Tiny spoilers for Leverage series finale. Something of a series with Version 2.0 and Call, but you don't have to read those to read this.
Abby didn’t hear from Big H very often, but that made sense since they were officially on opposite sides of the law. Plus, he was always going here there and everywhere for that opposite sideness. She kept an eye on his crew’s work anyway, partially because she liked what they did and partially to make sure that none of Fornell’s new agents were named Thomas or Hagen. That might be fun for her, but it would probably not make Fornell very happy.
So when she got a text message from an untraceable burn phone (not that she didn’t try to trace it anyway), she was a little surprised. She was even more surprised when subsequent messages suggested that they meet at a ridiculously tiny greasy spoon off the beaten path of anywhere in DC while still being in DC. They didn’t really interact in the “real world”, given their respective jobs and skills. It wasn’t needed or wanted. For him to change that meant that this must be important, and she sent a message back to confirm their “date”.
She got lost about five times trying to find the diner, but finally got there and noticed Hardison in the corner booth. She had dressed very carefully for this meeting and her pains were rewarded by the appreciatively flustered look he gave her before she slid into the booth. It wasn’t as flustered as it had always been and she wondered about that. Maybe he’d finally found someone who appreciated him. Not that she didn’t, but it wasn’t the same kind of appreciation.
“What’s good here?” she asked, opening the menu as she did.
“Oh, well, you know, they got the usual stuff,” he replied, maybe a little nervously, and she raised an eyebrow at him as the waitress poured coffee into two thick diner mugs and walked away. Abby sipped it experimentally and then dumped ten seconds of sugar into it from the old-fashioned shaker. The diner’s coffee was strong enough to stand on its own without a mug, but it needed a little sugar. Hardison watched with amusement and she raised the other eyebrow for good measure.
“I’ll go with eggs and bacon and home fries,” she decided, because it was hard to screw that up and it was also very yummy. “What about you? Bowl of granola?”
“Granola? Who do you think you’re talkin’ to, Eliot? I ain’t havin no granola,” he said, clearly affronted at the very idea.
“Oh, I know I’m not talking to Eliot,” she replied smugly. “If I was, there would probably be fewer clothes involved.”
As expected, that naughty comment flustered Hardison, but he’d finished sputtering by the time the waitress came back. They both ordered and handed over their menus, then settled back into the booth. There had been some top quality Naugas used for this hyde.
“So what’s up, Big H? Not that I don’t appreciate the chance to fluster you in person, but we don’t usually do this,” she said directly.
“I can’t just wanna see one of my favorite hackers?” he asked, trying to look hurt and succeeding remarkably well.
“You can, but last I heard you were on the other side of the country,” she pointed out. “And I bet this food isn’t going to be good enough to be squashed into an airplane seat for several hours.”
“Squashed? What are you talkin’ about squashed? First class, baby. Or charter, that’s the way to go,” he replied, proving once more that crime definitely paid more than working for the federal government.
“Okay, this food isn’t good enough to pay ridiculous amounts of money for a very comfortable seat on a metal tube hurtling through the air, how’s that?” she amended her statement. He was stalling and they both knew it. “I’d almost think you needed my help with something.”
“It’s funny you should say that. I might. I mean, not now, but maybe soon,” he said, fiddling with his spoon.
That wasn’t very full of sense, and she tilted her head to the side. “You might need my help, but not now? Then why are you here? What’s going on?”
Something was definitely going on, and she was seriously curious now. More curious than hungry, even, not that that was particularly uncommon.
“You know my crew?” he started, and she nodded even though it wasn’t really a question. It was more of an intro to a better statement, which she wanted him to get to as soon as possible.
“We got hold of some really interesting stuff recently. Took some finesse too, I can tell you that. I got dirt like you would not believe about some people you would definitely believe. Could change the game for all kinds of things. And I’m planning to share it, WikiLeaks style,” he said, speaking in a quiet, completely normal voice. Leaning forward and whispering looked shady and they didn’t want to look shady, especially given the subject matter. Releasing dirt on high level people into the mass of generally bored, occasionally talented hackers around the world? That would make serious waves.
“Oooh,” she said happily, and was sure her eyes had just lit up. “I’m in. What do you need?”
Hardison stared and then chuckled. “I haven’t even told you what we’re doin’ and you wanna say you’re in?”
“Absolutely,” Abby said firmly. “If you’re taking your Sherwood Forest thing to an international level, which it sounds like you are, you’re gonna need a lot more digital firepower than just one person, even if that person is you, Big H. And I’m in.”
“You work for the Feds, Abby,” Hardison pointed out seriously. “You can’t be in.”
“And yet you’re here telling me about something that is definitely on the charcoal side of the grey area,” she pointed out equally seriously in return. Yes, she worked for the Feds, and yes, she had a definite aversion to long prison sentences, but in the pursuit of justice, real justice, she was in.
He tilted his head in acknowledgment of her point as the waitress came by with their plates. They didn’t speak again until she left and they’d both had a chance to bite into some deliciously crispy bacon, nicely scrambled real eggs, and perfectly cooked home fries.
“So, fill me in,” she prompted. “If I’m going to be an associate of yours, I need to know what’s going on. I might need to buy some new hardware. And I love new hardware.”
His grin nearly split his face and she settled in for a great breakfast of carbon and charcoal.
Fandoms: NCIS/Leverage crossover.
Rating: G
Word Count: 1100
Summary: Abby gets a call from one of her favorite hackers. Tiny spoilers for Leverage series finale. Something of a series with Version 2.0 and Call, but you don't have to read those to read this.
Abby didn’t hear from Big H very often, but that made sense since they were officially on opposite sides of the law. Plus, he was always going here there and everywhere for that opposite sideness. She kept an eye on his crew’s work anyway, partially because she liked what they did and partially to make sure that none of Fornell’s new agents were named Thomas or Hagen. That might be fun for her, but it would probably not make Fornell very happy.
So when she got a text message from an untraceable burn phone (not that she didn’t try to trace it anyway), she was a little surprised. She was even more surprised when subsequent messages suggested that they meet at a ridiculously tiny greasy spoon off the beaten path of anywhere in DC while still being in DC. They didn’t really interact in the “real world”, given their respective jobs and skills. It wasn’t needed or wanted. For him to change that meant that this must be important, and she sent a message back to confirm their “date”.
She got lost about five times trying to find the diner, but finally got there and noticed Hardison in the corner booth. She had dressed very carefully for this meeting and her pains were rewarded by the appreciatively flustered look he gave her before she slid into the booth. It wasn’t as flustered as it had always been and she wondered about that. Maybe he’d finally found someone who appreciated him. Not that she didn’t, but it wasn’t the same kind of appreciation.
“What’s good here?” she asked, opening the menu as she did.
“Oh, well, you know, they got the usual stuff,” he replied, maybe a little nervously, and she raised an eyebrow at him as the waitress poured coffee into two thick diner mugs and walked away. Abby sipped it experimentally and then dumped ten seconds of sugar into it from the old-fashioned shaker. The diner’s coffee was strong enough to stand on its own without a mug, but it needed a little sugar. Hardison watched with amusement and she raised the other eyebrow for good measure.
“I’ll go with eggs and bacon and home fries,” she decided, because it was hard to screw that up and it was also very yummy. “What about you? Bowl of granola?”
“Granola? Who do you think you’re talkin’ to, Eliot? I ain’t havin no granola,” he said, clearly affronted at the very idea.
“Oh, I know I’m not talking to Eliot,” she replied smugly. “If I was, there would probably be fewer clothes involved.”
As expected, that naughty comment flustered Hardison, but he’d finished sputtering by the time the waitress came back. They both ordered and handed over their menus, then settled back into the booth. There had been some top quality Naugas used for this hyde.
“So what’s up, Big H? Not that I don’t appreciate the chance to fluster you in person, but we don’t usually do this,” she said directly.
“I can’t just wanna see one of my favorite hackers?” he asked, trying to look hurt and succeeding remarkably well.
“You can, but last I heard you were on the other side of the country,” she pointed out. “And I bet this food isn’t going to be good enough to be squashed into an airplane seat for several hours.”
“Squashed? What are you talkin’ about squashed? First class, baby. Or charter, that’s the way to go,” he replied, proving once more that crime definitely paid more than working for the federal government.
“Okay, this food isn’t good enough to pay ridiculous amounts of money for a very comfortable seat on a metal tube hurtling through the air, how’s that?” she amended her statement. He was stalling and they both knew it. “I’d almost think you needed my help with something.”
“It’s funny you should say that. I might. I mean, not now, but maybe soon,” he said, fiddling with his spoon.
That wasn’t very full of sense, and she tilted her head to the side. “You might need my help, but not now? Then why are you here? What’s going on?”
Something was definitely going on, and she was seriously curious now. More curious than hungry, even, not that that was particularly uncommon.
“You know my crew?” he started, and she nodded even though it wasn’t really a question. It was more of an intro to a better statement, which she wanted him to get to as soon as possible.
“We got hold of some really interesting stuff recently. Took some finesse too, I can tell you that. I got dirt like you would not believe about some people you would definitely believe. Could change the game for all kinds of things. And I’m planning to share it, WikiLeaks style,” he said, speaking in a quiet, completely normal voice. Leaning forward and whispering looked shady and they didn’t want to look shady, especially given the subject matter. Releasing dirt on high level people into the mass of generally bored, occasionally talented hackers around the world? That would make serious waves.
“Oooh,” she said happily, and was sure her eyes had just lit up. “I’m in. What do you need?”
Hardison stared and then chuckled. “I haven’t even told you what we’re doin’ and you wanna say you’re in?”
“Absolutely,” Abby said firmly. “If you’re taking your Sherwood Forest thing to an international level, which it sounds like you are, you’re gonna need a lot more digital firepower than just one person, even if that person is you, Big H. And I’m in.”
“You work for the Feds, Abby,” Hardison pointed out seriously. “You can’t be in.”
“And yet you’re here telling me about something that is definitely on the charcoal side of the grey area,” she pointed out equally seriously in return. Yes, she worked for the Feds, and yes, she had a definite aversion to long prison sentences, but in the pursuit of justice, real justice, she was in.
He tilted his head in acknowledgment of her point as the waitress came by with their plates. They didn’t speak again until she left and they’d both had a chance to bite into some deliciously crispy bacon, nicely scrambled real eggs, and perfectly cooked home fries.
“So, fill me in,” she prompted. “If I’m going to be an associate of yours, I need to know what’s going on. I might need to buy some new hardware. And I love new hardware.”
His grin nearly split his face and she settled in for a great breakfast of carbon and charcoal.