Fic 1 of 6. Winding Down. Leverage. For Germanjj
Title: Winding Down
Author: Ldydragon7
Summary: The aftermath of a fight. Hardison’s injured, Parker’s freaked and Eliot wants to punch somebody. Can be read as pure gen or as pre-P/H/E.
Prompt/Prompter: Leverage; Parker, Eliot, Hardison; I'd love something about the three of them winding down after a huge fight. Maybe parker is hurt more than the other two and they're taking care of her. it can totally be gen or slash but what I'd really love was something on the edge between the two - you know? some touches, some hugs, enough to not be friendship anymore but not really turning into something sexual. well, fluff, basically ;) from Germanjj
Rating: PG/PG-13 for minor bad language.
Warnings: Non-graphic descriptions of the aftermath of violence.
Disclaimer: Leverage and everything associated with it is not mine. I’m just having fun playing in their sandbox.
Eliot really wanted to punch somebody. Unfortunately, the skulls he really wanted to crack open were downtown in lockup on charges of smuggling, gunrunning and a few other assorted crimes Nate had pinned on them just to round things out. And because Nate was a vindictive bastard who was probably as angry as Eliot was that one of their one had been hurt. It wasn’t enough. He would have preferred broken bones to the knowledge that very soon a prosecutor would be breaking any hope they had of ever seeing anything but prison bars again. While Eliot could admit Nate’s way was more effective in the long term it left him with no outlet for his anger. It churned in his gut, mixing with the guilt. He should have been there. Hardison shouldn’t have had to face down those three thugs by himself.
A gasp interrupted Hardison’s running commentary on how awesome his device was and how awesome he was for creating it. It shouldn’t have worked. Hardison’s doohickey looked like some spy movie gizmo on crack and was about as practical. It was sheerest luck that all the thugs were gathered close, kicking him when he was down, when Hardison got his hands on it. He was able to knock them out without getting caught in the blast himself.
Hardison gave him a far too shaky version of his cocky smile. “I’m fine, just a little tender is all. You can stop strangling that first aid kit now.”
The plastic handle of the kit was starting to crack, Eliot loosened his grip. He looked over at Parker, sure she had noticed the light sheen of sweat on Hardison’s skin, giving lie to his ‘I’m fine, move along, nothing to see here’ attitude. She was hovering by the end of the couch, eyes wide and darting around the room. Now that she was no longer occupied helping Hardison into the apartment and onto the couch, she didn’t know what to do. He could see fight or flight instincts tangling within her, neither helpful to the situation, and leaving her frozen. He ran his free hand though his hair to buy himself a moment to regain his own composure. He still wanted to beat on some gunrunners, or at the very least punch a wall, but he was needed here. He forced himself to walk casually over to the couch and set the first aid kit gently on the coffee table.
“Parker, why don’t you go get some icepacks and a few towels to wrap them in. A warm wet washcloth would be good too.”
She was gone before the last word left his mouth. She was like him, she needed the action, needed something to do to keep her focus off how close a call it had been.
Eliot knelt down in front of the couch, reached for the hem of Hardison’s t-shirt. “Hold still and maybe this won’t hurt.” He pushed the fabric up and ran his hands up and down Hardison’s ribs as gently as he could.
“I’d like to lodge a complaint about your bedside manner, Florence Nightingale.”
Eliot had to give him points for trying to keep up the bickering, but it didn’t distract him from how shallowly Hardison was breathing. None of his ribs were broken, but Eliot was pretty sure at least two were cracked. “Lift up your arms, slowly.” He needed to get Hardison’s t-shirt off him so he could get a better look at the bruises already starting to form on the rest of his torso. “And you shouldn’t complain about my bedside manner when you’re not even in a bed.” Eliot mentally winced. Fuck. More and more often lately their friendly bickering was sounding more like flirting than Eliot meant it to.
“You know,” Hardison was panting by the time they got his shirt off, but he still managed a weak grin. “If you wanted me shirtless and in bed there are easier ways than a tangle with gunrunners.” And there was Hardison, taking it a step too far, as always.
He chose to ignore the quip, poking at one of Hardison’s bruises a bit more forcefully than he’d intended. “We need to ice these.”
“Great you want me freezing my ass off, too.”
Eliot had to admit, he was surprised how hard Hardison was fronting, considering how much he whined when there was too much dust or he got so much as a paper cut. He looked up to find dark eyes watching him, too close.
“I was a geek in a public high school.” Hardison started to shrug, winced and settled back into the couch.
Eliot nodded. He remembered his own high school and the kids who got stuffed into lockers or worse. It might not compare to a stay in a North Korean prison, but high school definitely had its way of preparing you to deal with the nastiness of the world.
Parker bounded into the room, carrying every single icepack in the apartment and possibly a few that weren’t theirs. She handed him a damp washcloth.
Eliot nodded his thanks. “Make sure he keeps the ice packs on his ribs, 20 minutes on, 20 minutes off.” Keep her active, keep her focused on the details because he can’t deal with a spooked Parker and an injured Hardison at the same time. And let taking care of both of them keep the guilt away.
He focused on the grit embedded in Hardison’s cheek, his split lip and the other assorted cuts and scrapes. He raised the washcloth to Hardison’s face and began cleaning away the worst of the dirt and blood.
“Hey, I can manage that much at least. Hand it over.” Hardison tried to grab the washcloth from him then froze. “Okay, oww. Not my best idea. Stop laughing at me, you jerk.”
Eliot didn’t even try to tamp down on the smirk; he just took Hardison’s chin in two fingers and turned his head.
“Okay, that’s the worst of it out of the cuts. Now it’s time for your favorite part.” Eliot pulled out gauze and a bottle of disinfectant.
Hardison’s eyes widened. “I hate you so much right now.”
Hardison whined and groaned through the whole process, complaining that Eliot was enjoying this way too much, the bastard. Eliot smirked and called him a big baby and told him to suck it up. And they both watched Parker out of the corner of their eyes as she swapped out ice packs and slowly relaxed the tense set of her shoulders, as her eyes stopped darting to all of the exits and focused on them. Finally she settled fully onto the couch, the manic need to do something subsiding now that all was right in her world again.
Eliot raised his eyebrows at Hardison and he gave a small, sheepish smile back. Eliot stopped menacing him with the bottle of disinfectant and quickly finished bandaging the last few cuts.
“Since I’m the injured party, I get to choose the movie tonight.”
“None of that Dr. Whatsit stuff you’re always going on about.” Eliot interjected right on cue.
Hardison gasped and sputtered and they both watched a small smile grow across Parker’s face.
Eliot nodded to himself, Parker freak out, successfully averted. He set up Hardison’s movie system while Hardison sat back, issuing orders and warnings to ‘be gentle that is very delicate equipment’ and Parker made popcorn. She slid onto the couch, managing to press up against Hardison’s side without jostling him, the way only a thief of her caliber could. Eliot took Hardison’s other side and refused to hand over the remote.
He wanted to say he was sorry. He wanted to say he should have been there when those thugs cornered Alec alone in the van; instead of with Parker on what they had assumed would be the most dangerous part of the job. He wanted to say that he should have know somehow and gotten there in time. But he couldn’t say all that so instead he nudged Hardison’s shoulder with his and complained about him hogging all the popcorn.
He still wanted to break a few gunrunner heads, but he was needed more here.