Leverage fic: Misplaced, Maggie/Tara, PG13
Disclaimer: not mine
Characters: Tara Cole, Maggie Collins (Maggie/Tara)
Set: post-season two
Rating: PG13, kissing, a little groping
Length: 1200 words
Notes: Written for this prompt at the ladies' ficathon. It is not porny, but I'm sort of leaning towards "less is more" these days.
Summary: Maggie isn't supposed to be there, so Tara decides to seduce her.
Misplaced
by ALC Punk!
Moscow museums are supposed to be empty at night.
Tara was very good at what she did (she'd memorized the guard's schedule down to seconds), and the woman sitting at the desk in the antiquities storage room, bent over as she carefully brushed something off of what looked like a pottery shard from Egypt (circa the early 3rd century, if the glazing wasn't faked), shouldn't have been there, either.
"Whoever that is, you can come out. I don't bite." Same no-nonsense tone, same professional smile on her face.
Tara debated with herself, then stepped out into the open, skirting the room. If Maggie Collins was planning to raise the alarm, she already had. "Authentic?" she asked, nodding at the shard.
"I'm not sure. There's some question about a chemical in the glaze." Maggie set the piece down and tipped back in her chair a little. "Tara, isn't it." No question, and nothing more for a moment, then Maggie's smile twitched a little. "Nate having you trade off keeping tabs on me?"
Dressed in form-fitting black leather, a backpack over her shoulder, Tara raised an eyebrow. "You don't think much of us."
"You're thieves."
Like that closed the issue. Tara felt her lips twitch, and let the smile show through. "You say that like it's a bad thing." It was a corny line, but it did get Maggie to look surprised. Tara followed through, dropping into another chair, sitting backwards and keeping one eye on the clock. "Nate didn't send me."
"Really. So, Parker finding me in Belgrade two weeks ago, Hardison in New York, and Eliot in that little dive in Las Vegas--those weren't Nate checking up on me." Maggie looked as though she might hit Tara, if she found out that the team was doing it on their own. As though Maggie were some sort of pet they had to make certain was still all right with food and water.
Tara schooled her expression, knowing Maggie wouldn't buy the 'they like you' excuse, and shrugged, "I really didn't know you were here."
Her eyebrow still raised, Maggie bent back to the pottery shard. "So, what were you here to steal?"
"There's a nice little Van Gogh in for cleaning. The museum director is very talkative when he's drunk," Tara decided the truth might be more disarming than a lie. Besides, the Van Gogh in question was never supposed to leave the royal collection. Someone had walked off with it during the panic two years before, and now it was tracked down, the museum was having a hard time getting it back.
Maggie looked surprised, then shook her head. "It doesn't matter. You can't do it tonight: being under suspicion once was enough for me."
"How can I convince you?" Tara leaned forward, smiling a little.
"I suppose you could try seducing me." The words had a careless edge to them, but Maggie's cheeks flushed just a little.
Tara thought about that, thought about Nathan Ford's not-a-thief, perfect little ex-wife. Thought about Maggie laughing, her head back while Tara had inappropriate ideas about the skin of her throat. "You make that sound as if it would be a bad idea," Tara finally said, her voice halfway between seductive and amused.
"I think it might be," Maggie admitted before she stood up and moved to slide between Tara and the work-bench. The slab of oak took her weight easily, and she raised her eyebrows.
A couple ideas floated through Tara's head, but she leaned forward, surging upwards and making Maggie lean back to get away from her. Tara didn't bother with words, letting her mouth brush over Maggie's exposed throat, feeling a little smug when Maggie made a soft little noise. They all made that, sooner or later. The thrill of conquest made Tara feel cocky.
With her hands moving slowly, she pulled Maggie's blouse free, unbuttoning it before she pulled Maggie up-right.
Pressed against her, Maggie shivered a little, then leaned in and kissed Tara. It wasn't innocent or prudish, and Tara found her legs wanting to buckle at the desire that flowed through her. Maggie was an excellent kisser.
"If you're seducing me," Maggie murmured, when Tara stopped and straightened to shoot a glance at the clock, "You're not making yourself any points."
Tara laughed and kissed her again, taking her time and letting her hands slip under Maggie's blouse. Her skin was smooth and warm, Tara's fingers made goosebumps raise. Tara ignored breasts and concentrated on skin: Maggie's back, sides, stroking up her belly in a complicated maneuver. Just feeling Maggie shift and twitch against her, as though she was a little surprised herself how good it felt.
"Better," Maggie mumbled, her own hands slipping up to cup the back of Tara's head. Her nails traced letters on the back of Tara's neck, and Tara found herself shivering in enjoyment. "Hrm. Turn around."
The words were an order that Tara started to comply with before her brain connected itself again. "Hey--"
"No, really. Turn around."
Something in Maggie's voice made Tara turn around. She started to wish she was the one sitting down, when Maggie pulled her close and began nuzzling the back of her neck, tracing a line until she found the spot. Tara made an inarticulate noise, then pulled her head up. "Thought I was the one in charge," she managed to object.
"You think so?" Maggie's hands curved around Tara, fingers brushing under her breasts.
Tara started to answer, firmly in control of herself, when Maggie stiffened. "The guard's going to be early on his rounds tonight. You'd better go."
Go? "What?"
Maggie pushed her forward, scrambling awkwardly off the table, and Tara took some small satisfaction in how disappointed the other woman was when they were facing each other. "You have five minutes," Maggie hissed at her, leaning in to kiss her quickly, then stepping back.
Five minutes was more than enough time for--oh. Tara stared at her, eyes startled. "Maggie?"
"Sophie called me a week ago. Why do you think I'm here?" She turned away, busying herself with her magnifying glass and shard of pottery. "Now get the damned thing and get out of here before we're both caught."
Mind whirling, Tara did her job. She didn't owe Sophie anymore, but a favor was a favor. And Sophie would now owe her. Tara always had liked being on that side of the tally board. What she couldn't decide was why Maggie was there, and whether Tara now owed her, or vice versa.
"Tara." Maggie's voice stopped her before she slipped from the room, canvas in a carefully-rolled tube. It would travel better. "Try not to get caught."
"Maybe I'll see you another time."
The light gleamed in Maggie's eyes as she looked at Tara. "Maybe you will. This time, I expect you to pencil in adequate time for a proper seduction."
Oh, yeah. Tara's mind was whirling again. She managed to say something, but didn't remember what, later. Instead, she remembered the nightmare trip through the ducts and climbing onto the roof, repelling down the side and catching a bus with a breath of relief.
-f-
Characters: Tara Cole, Maggie Collins (Maggie/Tara)
Set: post-season two
Rating: PG13, kissing, a little groping
Length: 1200 words
Notes: Written for this prompt at the ladies' ficathon. It is not porny, but I'm sort of leaning towards "less is more" these days.
Summary: Maggie isn't supposed to be there, so Tara decides to seduce her.
Misplaced
by ALC Punk!
Moscow museums are supposed to be empty at night.
Tara was very good at what she did (she'd memorized the guard's schedule down to seconds), and the woman sitting at the desk in the antiquities storage room, bent over as she carefully brushed something off of what looked like a pottery shard from Egypt (circa the early 3rd century, if the glazing wasn't faked), shouldn't have been there, either.
"Whoever that is, you can come out. I don't bite." Same no-nonsense tone, same professional smile on her face.
Tara debated with herself, then stepped out into the open, skirting the room. If Maggie Collins was planning to raise the alarm, she already had. "Authentic?" she asked, nodding at the shard.
"I'm not sure. There's some question about a chemical in the glaze." Maggie set the piece down and tipped back in her chair a little. "Tara, isn't it." No question, and nothing more for a moment, then Maggie's smile twitched a little. "Nate having you trade off keeping tabs on me?"
Dressed in form-fitting black leather, a backpack over her shoulder, Tara raised an eyebrow. "You don't think much of us."
"You're thieves."
Like that closed the issue. Tara felt her lips twitch, and let the smile show through. "You say that like it's a bad thing." It was a corny line, but it did get Maggie to look surprised. Tara followed through, dropping into another chair, sitting backwards and keeping one eye on the clock. "Nate didn't send me."
"Really. So, Parker finding me in Belgrade two weeks ago, Hardison in New York, and Eliot in that little dive in Las Vegas--those weren't Nate checking up on me." Maggie looked as though she might hit Tara, if she found out that the team was doing it on their own. As though Maggie were some sort of pet they had to make certain was still all right with food and water.
Tara schooled her expression, knowing Maggie wouldn't buy the 'they like you' excuse, and shrugged, "I really didn't know you were here."
Her eyebrow still raised, Maggie bent back to the pottery shard. "So, what were you here to steal?"
"There's a nice little Van Gogh in for cleaning. The museum director is very talkative when he's drunk," Tara decided the truth might be more disarming than a lie. Besides, the Van Gogh in question was never supposed to leave the royal collection. Someone had walked off with it during the panic two years before, and now it was tracked down, the museum was having a hard time getting it back.
Maggie looked surprised, then shook her head. "It doesn't matter. You can't do it tonight: being under suspicion once was enough for me."
"How can I convince you?" Tara leaned forward, smiling a little.
"I suppose you could try seducing me." The words had a careless edge to them, but Maggie's cheeks flushed just a little.
Tara thought about that, thought about Nathan Ford's not-a-thief, perfect little ex-wife. Thought about Maggie laughing, her head back while Tara had inappropriate ideas about the skin of her throat. "You make that sound as if it would be a bad idea," Tara finally said, her voice halfway between seductive and amused.
"I think it might be," Maggie admitted before she stood up and moved to slide between Tara and the work-bench. The slab of oak took her weight easily, and she raised her eyebrows.
A couple ideas floated through Tara's head, but she leaned forward, surging upwards and making Maggie lean back to get away from her. Tara didn't bother with words, letting her mouth brush over Maggie's exposed throat, feeling a little smug when Maggie made a soft little noise. They all made that, sooner or later. The thrill of conquest made Tara feel cocky.
With her hands moving slowly, she pulled Maggie's blouse free, unbuttoning it before she pulled Maggie up-right.
Pressed against her, Maggie shivered a little, then leaned in and kissed Tara. It wasn't innocent or prudish, and Tara found her legs wanting to buckle at the desire that flowed through her. Maggie was an excellent kisser.
"If you're seducing me," Maggie murmured, when Tara stopped and straightened to shoot a glance at the clock, "You're not making yourself any points."
Tara laughed and kissed her again, taking her time and letting her hands slip under Maggie's blouse. Her skin was smooth and warm, Tara's fingers made goosebumps raise. Tara ignored breasts and concentrated on skin: Maggie's back, sides, stroking up her belly in a complicated maneuver. Just feeling Maggie shift and twitch against her, as though she was a little surprised herself how good it felt.
"Better," Maggie mumbled, her own hands slipping up to cup the back of Tara's head. Her nails traced letters on the back of Tara's neck, and Tara found herself shivering in enjoyment. "Hrm. Turn around."
The words were an order that Tara started to comply with before her brain connected itself again. "Hey--"
"No, really. Turn around."
Something in Maggie's voice made Tara turn around. She started to wish she was the one sitting down, when Maggie pulled her close and began nuzzling the back of her neck, tracing a line until she found the spot. Tara made an inarticulate noise, then pulled her head up. "Thought I was the one in charge," she managed to object.
"You think so?" Maggie's hands curved around Tara, fingers brushing under her breasts.
Tara started to answer, firmly in control of herself, when Maggie stiffened. "The guard's going to be early on his rounds tonight. You'd better go."
Go? "What?"
Maggie pushed her forward, scrambling awkwardly off the table, and Tara took some small satisfaction in how disappointed the other woman was when they were facing each other. "You have five minutes," Maggie hissed at her, leaning in to kiss her quickly, then stepping back.
Five minutes was more than enough time for--oh. Tara stared at her, eyes startled. "Maggie?"
"Sophie called me a week ago. Why do you think I'm here?" She turned away, busying herself with her magnifying glass and shard of pottery. "Now get the damned thing and get out of here before we're both caught."
Mind whirling, Tara did her job. She didn't owe Sophie anymore, but a favor was a favor. And Sophie would now owe her. Tara always had liked being on that side of the tally board. What she couldn't decide was why Maggie was there, and whether Tara now owed her, or vice versa.
"Tara." Maggie's voice stopped her before she slipped from the room, canvas in a carefully-rolled tube. It would travel better. "Try not to get caught."
"Maybe I'll see you another time."
The light gleamed in Maggie's eyes as she looked at Tara. "Maybe you will. This time, I expect you to pencil in adequate time for a proper seduction."
Oh, yeah. Tara's mind was whirling again. She managed to say something, but didn't remember what, later. Instead, she remembered the nightmare trip through the ducts and climbing onto the roof, repelling down the side and catching a bus with a breath of relief.
-f-