Fic: Platform 4
Title: Platform 4
Fandom: Leverage
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: In no way mine or anything to do with me. I own nothing.
Summary: Nate waits for a train.
AN: Comment!fic written for thayln , who wanted team!fic, with Nate in trouble
"Hardison, talk to me."
"The train's still delayed," Hardison says quietly in his ear. "It looks like twenty minutes maybe twenty five."
Nate resists the urge to shake his head. He doesn't like it. There's already been a slow but pointed increase in the amount of police in the station, which isn't a good sign at all.
"I suspect I'm not going to be able to wait. If I turn around and head back out they'll almost certainly search me, and if I'm searched I'm going to be in serious trouble considering exactly what I'm carrying." He rustles his paper more than absolutely necessary when he turns the page. Makes a fine show of looking like he doesn't give a crap about anyone else. Which is pretty much the opposite of furtive and suspicious.
"It's just a general show of security, there's no reason you should be searched if you wait for the train," Sophie's voice is calm and entirely sensible.
"She's right," Eliot adds quietly.
Nate knows she's right, but he doesn't like it. He knows the normal rules and he knows when things feel off. When people are nervous they do unexpected things.
"Sometimes you just have to go with the flow, do what seems most sensible, like that time we all had to draw Eliot naked," Sophie offers into the quiet, and Nate can hear her smiling.
"I would like to point out that I was very unhappy about that job," Hardison says carefully. "Surprise nudity in the workplace just makes everybody awkward."
"It wasn't exactly fun for me," Eliot complains.
"It was easy for you," Parker protests, a chirp of blunt honesty through the comms. "You just had to sit around naked all day."
Nate's fairly sure he can hear Eliot quietly smouldering somewhere upstairs.
"And not even upside down," Parker continues. "The last time I was naked I was upside down and it was cold, and no one drew me."
There's a short period of silence and Nate suspects he should say something before the faceless conversation drifts off on a tangent.
"Focus people," he reminds quietly, while pretending to read the paper and look thoroughly uninteresting to anyone who might look over, or walk past, or be watching on CCTV. "Twelve minutes and then we're going to need a distraction."
"I could come down there and slap you if you like." Sophie sounds way too enthusiastic about that. "I love a good lover's quarrel scene at a train station."
"You make me sit up here for much longer and I'll come down there and slap you," Eliot grumbles before Nate can reply.
"I bet you wouldn't even be nice about it," Sophie complains.
"Damn right I wouldn't." There's a thump, and some swearing. "Why the hell am I up here anyway, Hardison you don't even have to move, you should be crammed in here like a fish in a can."
There's a rude noise from Hardison.
"I can't be expected to sit in an air vent, or in some damp basement somewhere. This equipment is very sensitive."
"It doesn't seem to mind being showered in bits of chip and cheese dust," Eliot snarls and there's another thump, as if his irritation doesn’t quite fit wherever he's managed to hole himself up.
"I resent that."
"Boys," Sophie purrs.
"I think I know how mad people feel," Nate tells them all over the obituaries. But if anything the police are milling even closer than before and his shoulders desperately want to crawl up his neck.
"I think I might need some help here people," Nate says quietly.
The comms go quiet.
Five things happens after that.
A voice over the public address system declares that all tickets bought within the next fifteen minutes will be available for seventy percent off. Half the crowd change direction the other half start loudly talking amongst themselves and fishing in their bags.
There's a squeak of boots on tile and the man on the platform handing out flyers hits the floor with a thump. He's half tangled up with someone else, a bundle of arms and legs and hair and fluttering paper, in a variety of different colours. While a voice that Nate recognises perfectly well apologises and starts scooping green and yellow paper out of the air with more enthusiasm than good aim.
A golden retriever bounds past, knocking into people excitedly as it goes, trailing a lead and a tall brunette shouting 'Benjamin' at the top of her lungs. She grabs a policeman halfway across the station and demands that he help her.
Then the speakers start making screeching noises like they’re dying and everyone in the station glares upwards.
Half a minute after that a familiar blonde woman speeds past on a luggage trolley, being chased by three policemen.
At exactly 11:45 Nathan Ford gets on the train.
Fandom: Leverage
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: In no way mine or anything to do with me. I own nothing.
Summary: Nate waits for a train.
AN: Comment!fic written for thayln , who wanted team!fic, with Nate in trouble
"Hardison, talk to me."
"The train's still delayed," Hardison says quietly in his ear. "It looks like twenty minutes maybe twenty five."
Nate resists the urge to shake his head. He doesn't like it. There's already been a slow but pointed increase in the amount of police in the station, which isn't a good sign at all.
"I suspect I'm not going to be able to wait. If I turn around and head back out they'll almost certainly search me, and if I'm searched I'm going to be in serious trouble considering exactly what I'm carrying." He rustles his paper more than absolutely necessary when he turns the page. Makes a fine show of looking like he doesn't give a crap about anyone else. Which is pretty much the opposite of furtive and suspicious.
"It's just a general show of security, there's no reason you should be searched if you wait for the train," Sophie's voice is calm and entirely sensible.
"She's right," Eliot adds quietly.
Nate knows she's right, but he doesn't like it. He knows the normal rules and he knows when things feel off. When people are nervous they do unexpected things.
"Sometimes you just have to go with the flow, do what seems most sensible, like that time we all had to draw Eliot naked," Sophie offers into the quiet, and Nate can hear her smiling.
"I would like to point out that I was very unhappy about that job," Hardison says carefully. "Surprise nudity in the workplace just makes everybody awkward."
"It wasn't exactly fun for me," Eliot complains.
"It was easy for you," Parker protests, a chirp of blunt honesty through the comms. "You just had to sit around naked all day."
Nate's fairly sure he can hear Eliot quietly smouldering somewhere upstairs.
"And not even upside down," Parker continues. "The last time I was naked I was upside down and it was cold, and no one drew me."
There's a short period of silence and Nate suspects he should say something before the faceless conversation drifts off on a tangent.
"Focus people," he reminds quietly, while pretending to read the paper and look thoroughly uninteresting to anyone who might look over, or walk past, or be watching on CCTV. "Twelve minutes and then we're going to need a distraction."
"I could come down there and slap you if you like." Sophie sounds way too enthusiastic about that. "I love a good lover's quarrel scene at a train station."
"You make me sit up here for much longer and I'll come down there and slap you," Eliot grumbles before Nate can reply.
"I bet you wouldn't even be nice about it," Sophie complains.
"Damn right I wouldn't." There's a thump, and some swearing. "Why the hell am I up here anyway, Hardison you don't even have to move, you should be crammed in here like a fish in a can."
There's a rude noise from Hardison.
"I can't be expected to sit in an air vent, or in some damp basement somewhere. This equipment is very sensitive."
"It doesn't seem to mind being showered in bits of chip and cheese dust," Eliot snarls and there's another thump, as if his irritation doesn’t quite fit wherever he's managed to hole himself up.
"I resent that."
"Boys," Sophie purrs.
"I think I know how mad people feel," Nate tells them all over the obituaries. But if anything the police are milling even closer than before and his shoulders desperately want to crawl up his neck.
"I think I might need some help here people," Nate says quietly.
The comms go quiet.
Five things happens after that.
A voice over the public address system declares that all tickets bought within the next fifteen minutes will be available for seventy percent off. Half the crowd change direction the other half start loudly talking amongst themselves and fishing in their bags.
There's a squeak of boots on tile and the man on the platform handing out flyers hits the floor with a thump. He's half tangled up with someone else, a bundle of arms and legs and hair and fluttering paper, in a variety of different colours. While a voice that Nate recognises perfectly well apologises and starts scooping green and yellow paper out of the air with more enthusiasm than good aim.
A golden retriever bounds past, knocking into people excitedly as it goes, trailing a lead and a tall brunette shouting 'Benjamin' at the top of her lungs. She grabs a policeman halfway across the station and demands that he help her.
Then the speakers start making screeching noises like they’re dying and everyone in the station glares upwards.
Half a minute after that a familiar blonde woman speeds past on a luggage trolley, being chased by three policemen.
At exactly 11:45 Nathan Ford gets on the train.