Mod gift for Melpomenethemis: A Favor Owed
Title: A Favor Owed
Author: fleurlbb
Mod gift for: melpomenethemis
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairing: Eliot, Parker, Hardison, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester
Word Count: 1400
Spoilers: Vague spoilers for Supernatural Seasons 1-4, up to “Jump the Shark” (S4E19), set in Leverage S1 but no real spoilers for Leverage.
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: I own nothing here and am just having fun, waiting for Season 5 to start.
Note: If you’re a stickler for Supernatural canon, please hand-wave where necessary. In this story, the events of “Jus In Bello” (S3E12) have happened but the FBI still believe that Sam and Dean survived.
Summary: Eliot asks Hardison for a favor for his friends.
Eliot paused at the door to Hardison’s office. He grimaced at the thought of what he was about to do, but he knew from bitter experiences that there were worse things in the world than owing a big-mouthed hacker a favor.
“Suck it up, Spencer,” he admonished himself under his breath and walked into the office, aiming for friendly and missing by a country mile.
“What the hell is this?” he asked, annoyance already in the red zone.
Hardison didn’t look up. He had six different monitors displaying what look liked six different views of the same damn game.
“World of War craft, man. I have enough accounts so that I can play my own group when my guild mates are offline.” Hardison took a swig of orange soda, then typed a few commands and spun the wheels on three different mice. Eliot was getting dizzy just looking over his shoulder.
“I thought the only redeeming value of these games was the playing in teams. Kinda defeats the purpose when you’re playing all six characters, don’t it?”
Hardison offered only a half-shrug, his attention focused on the flashing screens. Eliot suppressed the urge to smash a monitor or two to get his attention.
“I kind of need you to do something for me,” began Eliot.
“Well, then, I’m kind of listening,” replied Hardison as he tapped some keys and clicked the mouse a few more times.
“I need you to hack into the FBI.”
“Pffft, that’s like stealing engraving plates from the Peruvian mint,” said Parker.
Eliot spun around and saw her sitting on top of a filing cabinet. She was licking a ludicrously large lollipop and was dressed like one of the anime characters in the incomprehensible Japanese films that Hardison loved.
Eliot opened his mouth to ask why she was dressed like that, but shook his head. He decided that he really didn’t want to know.
“Parker’s right. What do you need me to do?” asked Hardison, still blasting two-dimensional monsters.
“I have these friends who are in trouble. I need you to.... I don’t know.... cover their tracks? Remove all traces of them?”
“Yeah, no problem, man. I could do that with my eyes closed.”
“They’re also going to need a bunch of IDs. Good ones. State and federal officials, FBI, ATF, the whole shebang, flawless,” said Eliot, aware that it was a big ask.
“You know I can do that, but I need to know why, who these guys are. I can’t just be running around, creating top quality ID for any old miscreant. Especially if these guys are already on fibbie radar.” Hardison finally managed to tear himself away from the game.
Eliot swallowed the reflexive urge to punch the hacker for using the word ‘fibbie’. “They’re good guys, just... misunderstood. They’ll be here tomorrow so you can make the IDs. I owe them a huge favor.”
“So then you’ll be owing me a huge favor,” grinned Hardison.
Eliot scowled. “A big favor, Hardion. Let’s not go crazy here.”
The hacker looked like he might want to push his luck, so Eliot made his face even harsher. Hardison’s maddening big mouth stayed mercifully shut. Eliot handed over a list of the names and aliases that needed to be removed from the FBI computer as well as a list of requested IDs. The two shook hands. Eliot was barely out of the room before the damn computer game was bleeping and singing.
---//---
Dean and Sam followed Eliot into the well-appointed offices of Leverage Consulting.
“Nice gig. Who’s the old dude?” asked Dean, pointing to the oil painting that hung above the reception desk.
“Don’t ask,” grumbled Eliot.
They followed him through a high-tech conference room and around a narrow corridor to a dimly lit office where a figure lounged in front of six monitors, each showing a different FBI database. The figure spun around lazily and an attractive, lanky black guy stood up and flashed a million watt grin.
Dean felt every muscle in his body tense and stole a quick glance at Sammy, who was frozen in the doorway, jaw clenched.
“Who’s your friend, Eliot?” asked Dean, 92% sure that this wasn’t some horrible trap. The Spencer family had always been great friends to the Winchesters but that didn’t mean that some demon couldn’t jump into the party and mess everything up.
“Hardison. He’s our hacker. Hardison, these are the Winchesters, as I’m sure you already figured out from doing the hacking.”
“Hi guys, I’m honored, really, to have done this work for you,” said Hardison, extending a hand that Sam and Dean both regarded with suspicion. The hacker withdrew his hand with an awkward laugh. “I hope you two don’t have problems with brothers, because if you do, then we got a problem.
His tone was light but the tension in the room was rising.
“We don’t have any problems with brothers, as long as you don’t have a brother. A twin, maybe?” asked Sam.
Hardison blinked, confused. “No, I don’t have a brother. I got enough foster brothers and sisters to start a football team, but no real brother.”
Dean blew out a sigh of relief as Sam stepped forward to shake the hacker’s hand.
“Hardison, why don’t you show them what you did?” said Eliot.
The hacker gratefully took the opportunity to show off his skills, explaining in painstaking and mindnumbing detail how he had eliminated any trace of Sam and Dean’s existence, both in the FBI databases and in the databases of other law enforcement agencies. Dean didn’t understand a word of what he said and instead took the time to study the office.
“Dean, did you get that?” asked Sam, shooting a sharp elbow to his ribs.
Dean elbowed Sam back and reluctantly turned his attention to the screens and the technology lecture.
“Hardison, you owe me the Hope Diamond. Which was a stupid thing to bet, since I’m just going to have to steal it for you and then give it to myself,” said a voice from the corner of the room.
Dean wheeled around and saw a blonde woman, dressed in some kind of a costume, sitting on top of the filing cabinet.
“I told you I’d pay you for the job,” muttered Hardison.
“What’s Sailor Moon over there talking about?” Dean asked.
“No clue. That’s Parker. There’s something wrong with her,” said Eliot.
Parker was now somehow standing right in front of Sam, poking him in the chest, as if verifying that he was, in fact, a real person. Sam looked like he didn’t know whether he wanted to laugh or push her away.
“Sam and Dean Winchester are real people. I told you,” crowed Parker triumphantly.
Dean was about to ask how she knew about them, but then Sam answered his unspoken question. “Those damn books.”
Hardison waved a hand. “Woman, I don’t owe you nothing. These are just guys with the same name.”
“Can you call Castiel? I’d love to meet him.”
Dean laughed. “This has to be a first. A woman actually wanting to meet Cas.”
Sam pressed his lips together and looked like he had something important to say, but was reluctant to talk in the mixed company.
“Spit it out. Spencer’s practically family and these are his people.”
“The books stop before we met Cas.”
Dean blinked, his mind spinning through possibilities, looking for traps, demonic or otherwise. Finally, he fell happily on the obvious conclusion. “Sammy, he’s a hacker. He probably hacked into Chuck’s computer or whatever to impress Sailor Moon.”
“Sailor who?” asked Parker.
Sam relaxed. “Dean, we still need to hit the road soon. Can we get the IDs done?”
“Sam’s right. We have a date in Wisconsin in three days with a guy who claims to be our brother. Which you have to admit, should be an absolute barrel of laughs.”
Hardison’s eyes widened. “For real? All that stuff is for real?”
“Real as a heart attack,” said Dean, waving a hand at his bad metaphor. “Or whatever. Something very, very real. Now, if we could get a move on.”
Hardison jumped up. “Absolutely, follow me.”
Sam followed him, Parker close behind him, asking him a barrage of questions that made Dean laugh.
“She a trip, isn’t she?” asked Dean.
“And a half,” agreed Eliot.
“Thanks for all this.”
“You know I owed you one.”
“Yeah, and now we owe you. A big one.”
“Huge, Winchester. Huge. Because now I owe Hardison. And you know how I feel about a favor owed, especially to a dude like that.”
Dean smiled and clapped Eliot on the back. “Huge it is then. Now let’s get these IDs done.”
/fin
Author: fleurlbb
Mod gift for: melpomenethemis
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairing: Eliot, Parker, Hardison, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester
Word Count: 1400
Spoilers: Vague spoilers for Supernatural Seasons 1-4, up to “Jump the Shark” (S4E19), set in Leverage S1 but no real spoilers for Leverage.
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: I own nothing here and am just having fun, waiting for Season 5 to start.
Note: If you’re a stickler for Supernatural canon, please hand-wave where necessary. In this story, the events of “Jus In Bello” (S3E12) have happened but the FBI still believe that Sam and Dean survived.
Summary: Eliot asks Hardison for a favor for his friends.
Eliot paused at the door to Hardison’s office. He grimaced at the thought of what he was about to do, but he knew from bitter experiences that there were worse things in the world than owing a big-mouthed hacker a favor.
“Suck it up, Spencer,” he admonished himself under his breath and walked into the office, aiming for friendly and missing by a country mile.
“What the hell is this?” he asked, annoyance already in the red zone.
Hardison didn’t look up. He had six different monitors displaying what look liked six different views of the same damn game.
“World of War craft, man. I have enough accounts so that I can play my own group when my guild mates are offline.” Hardison took a swig of orange soda, then typed a few commands and spun the wheels on three different mice. Eliot was getting dizzy just looking over his shoulder.
“I thought the only redeeming value of these games was the playing in teams. Kinda defeats the purpose when you’re playing all six characters, don’t it?”
Hardison offered only a half-shrug, his attention focused on the flashing screens. Eliot suppressed the urge to smash a monitor or two to get his attention.
“I kind of need you to do something for me,” began Eliot.
“Well, then, I’m kind of listening,” replied Hardison as he tapped some keys and clicked the mouse a few more times.
“I need you to hack into the FBI.”
“Pffft, that’s like stealing engraving plates from the Peruvian mint,” said Parker.
Eliot spun around and saw her sitting on top of a filing cabinet. She was licking a ludicrously large lollipop and was dressed like one of the anime characters in the incomprehensible Japanese films that Hardison loved.
Eliot opened his mouth to ask why she was dressed like that, but shook his head. He decided that he really didn’t want to know.
“Parker’s right. What do you need me to do?” asked Hardison, still blasting two-dimensional monsters.
“I have these friends who are in trouble. I need you to.... I don’t know.... cover their tracks? Remove all traces of them?”
“Yeah, no problem, man. I could do that with my eyes closed.”
“They’re also going to need a bunch of IDs. Good ones. State and federal officials, FBI, ATF, the whole shebang, flawless,” said Eliot, aware that it was a big ask.
“You know I can do that, but I need to know why, who these guys are. I can’t just be running around, creating top quality ID for any old miscreant. Especially if these guys are already on fibbie radar.” Hardison finally managed to tear himself away from the game.
Eliot swallowed the reflexive urge to punch the hacker for using the word ‘fibbie’. “They’re good guys, just... misunderstood. They’ll be here tomorrow so you can make the IDs. I owe them a huge favor.”
“So then you’ll be owing me a huge favor,” grinned Hardison.
Eliot scowled. “A big favor, Hardion. Let’s not go crazy here.”
The hacker looked like he might want to push his luck, so Eliot made his face even harsher. Hardison’s maddening big mouth stayed mercifully shut. Eliot handed over a list of the names and aliases that needed to be removed from the FBI computer as well as a list of requested IDs. The two shook hands. Eliot was barely out of the room before the damn computer game was bleeping and singing.
---//---
Dean and Sam followed Eliot into the well-appointed offices of Leverage Consulting.
“Nice gig. Who’s the old dude?” asked Dean, pointing to the oil painting that hung above the reception desk.
“Don’t ask,” grumbled Eliot.
They followed him through a high-tech conference room and around a narrow corridor to a dimly lit office where a figure lounged in front of six monitors, each showing a different FBI database. The figure spun around lazily and an attractive, lanky black guy stood up and flashed a million watt grin.
Dean felt every muscle in his body tense and stole a quick glance at Sammy, who was frozen in the doorway, jaw clenched.
“Who’s your friend, Eliot?” asked Dean, 92% sure that this wasn’t some horrible trap. The Spencer family had always been great friends to the Winchesters but that didn’t mean that some demon couldn’t jump into the party and mess everything up.
“Hardison. He’s our hacker. Hardison, these are the Winchesters, as I’m sure you already figured out from doing the hacking.”
“Hi guys, I’m honored, really, to have done this work for you,” said Hardison, extending a hand that Sam and Dean both regarded with suspicion. The hacker withdrew his hand with an awkward laugh. “I hope you two don’t have problems with brothers, because if you do, then we got a problem.
His tone was light but the tension in the room was rising.
“We don’t have any problems with brothers, as long as you don’t have a brother. A twin, maybe?” asked Sam.
Hardison blinked, confused. “No, I don’t have a brother. I got enough foster brothers and sisters to start a football team, but no real brother.”
Dean blew out a sigh of relief as Sam stepped forward to shake the hacker’s hand.
“Hardison, why don’t you show them what you did?” said Eliot.
The hacker gratefully took the opportunity to show off his skills, explaining in painstaking and mindnumbing detail how he had eliminated any trace of Sam and Dean’s existence, both in the FBI databases and in the databases of other law enforcement agencies. Dean didn’t understand a word of what he said and instead took the time to study the office.
“Dean, did you get that?” asked Sam, shooting a sharp elbow to his ribs.
Dean elbowed Sam back and reluctantly turned his attention to the screens and the technology lecture.
“Hardison, you owe me the Hope Diamond. Which was a stupid thing to bet, since I’m just going to have to steal it for you and then give it to myself,” said a voice from the corner of the room.
Dean wheeled around and saw a blonde woman, dressed in some kind of a costume, sitting on top of the filing cabinet.
“I told you I’d pay you for the job,” muttered Hardison.
“What’s Sailor Moon over there talking about?” Dean asked.
“No clue. That’s Parker. There’s something wrong with her,” said Eliot.
Parker was now somehow standing right in front of Sam, poking him in the chest, as if verifying that he was, in fact, a real person. Sam looked like he didn’t know whether he wanted to laugh or push her away.
“Sam and Dean Winchester are real people. I told you,” crowed Parker triumphantly.
Dean was about to ask how she knew about them, but then Sam answered his unspoken question. “Those damn books.”
Hardison waved a hand. “Woman, I don’t owe you nothing. These are just guys with the same name.”
“Can you call Castiel? I’d love to meet him.”
Dean laughed. “This has to be a first. A woman actually wanting to meet Cas.”
Sam pressed his lips together and looked like he had something important to say, but was reluctant to talk in the mixed company.
“Spit it out. Spencer’s practically family and these are his people.”
“The books stop before we met Cas.”
Dean blinked, his mind spinning through possibilities, looking for traps, demonic or otherwise. Finally, he fell happily on the obvious conclusion. “Sammy, he’s a hacker. He probably hacked into Chuck’s computer or whatever to impress Sailor Moon.”
“Sailor who?” asked Parker.
Sam relaxed. “Dean, we still need to hit the road soon. Can we get the IDs done?”
“Sam’s right. We have a date in Wisconsin in three days with a guy who claims to be our brother. Which you have to admit, should be an absolute barrel of laughs.”
Hardison’s eyes widened. “For real? All that stuff is for real?”
“Real as a heart attack,” said Dean, waving a hand at his bad metaphor. “Or whatever. Something very, very real. Now, if we could get a move on.”
Hardison jumped up. “Absolutely, follow me.”
Sam followed him, Parker close behind him, asking him a barrage of questions that made Dean laugh.
“She a trip, isn’t she?” asked Dean.
“And a half,” agreed Eliot.
“Thanks for all this.”
“You know I owed you one.”
“Yeah, and now we owe you. A big one.”
“Huge, Winchester. Huge. Because now I owe Hardison. And you know how I feel about a favor owed, especially to a dude like that.”
Dean smiled and clapped Eliot on the back. “Huge it is then. Now let’s get these IDs done.”
/fin