If You Wanna Be My
Title: If You Wanna Be
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Eliot/Dean
Verse: Steal The Sky
Fandoms: Leverage, Firefly, Supernatural
Summary: Concerning The Morning After, Spice Girls, and a weird reason to finally just Do It.
Notes: For the Love Spell/Potion gone Wrong Square on my H/c bingo card. Irnoically the one I figured I'd put off until the end of December.
The events of Steal The Sky generally run parallel to cannon (assume the team run the various aired jobs only, you know, in space.) assume this takes place after The Miracle Job.
Shameless shout out to a group from my childhood is shameless.
Warning:Contains references to dub con and past non-con.
There was very little in the verse that Eliot hated worse than that moment right after he woke up when he realized he had no idea where he was and no memory of how he got there.
He stayed still, a lifetime in and out of hell had long since taught him to never give away consciousness before processing his surroundings. He was almost naked, just his boxers still on. The hard medical bed underneath him was warm. He’d been laying there long enough for his body heat to be absorbed. There was pressure on his wrists.
Panic surged through him when he realized he’d been restrained to a medical bed. Had he been caught? Were the others safe? Were they taking him back to Tartarus? Or Cupids Quiver? Or the Labs? His last Handler had always told him if he outlived his usefulness they’d take him back to the labs and take him apart.
Beeping, the machines monitoring his heart registering his spike of panic, and a hand touched his shoulder.
His eyes opened and he jerked upward, forcing his muscles to the edge of their limits and past to the ones created by the Areas’ meddling. The restraints strained and the one on his right arm gave way allowing him to get in a solid punch, knocking the green-eyed scientist back.
It bought him a few seconds, long enough to fumble for his other restraint. His hands were shaking. His head was roaring, pain like fists pounding against the inside of his skull like Athena from the skull of Zeus letting him know he’d been drugged.
His hands were shaking too badly, adrenalin, fear, aftereffects of the drugs. He couldn’t get his other hand free.
“Eliot!” A voice called. He recognized it but it wasn’t the kind of recognition he usually had. It didn’t come from the innate, instinctive, terror that seized him whenever he heard the voices of the scientists and doctors who’d worked on him as a child. “哥你, calm down.” 哥你, ‘dude’, someone called him that.
He took a deep breath, a hand settled on his shoulder, another appeared in his line of vision to free his other hand from it’s restraints. “Please tell me you’re just freaking out ‘cause Nate had the bright idea to restrain ya and not cause it hasn’t worn off yet.”
Dean. His mind registered. It was Dean’s voice. Dean’s hand. Dean’s eyes.
Shit. He’d just punched Dean.
“What the hell?” He asked, cause really he was way too far behind to ask anything more insightful. He turned once his other hand was free, catching sight of Dean.
He was gently prodding his nose, probably trying to figure out whether or not Eliot had broken it. “Do you remember what happened last night?” Dean asked. When Eliot just kept staring at him he gave a dry smile. “Take that as a no. You know what day it is?”
Noise. Light. Colors. It wasn’t a core world but the planet had some decent sized cities. Enough to get lost in but he’d been taking his medications again since they’d be in and out of cities like this for the duration of the job. The dose wouldn’t wear off for a while yet so he could enjoy the sensation of life without losing himself to it.
Eliot ran his hands through his hair. “Last I remember it was the 23rd of November. We’d just handed over the payout to the client and agreed to never speak of the job again.”
“You remember what we did after?” Dean asked, settling into a chair nearby, and Eliot couldn’t help but wonder if the wince was for more than just his nose.
“Do you think they notice if I stole those?” Parker asked, her voice drifting back to him from where she was talking to Hardison, walking slightly ahead.
“They’re stilts, Parker,” Eliot growled before Hardison could answer. “An’ he’s usin’ them. I think he’d notice.”
Parker started pouting and Eliot looked away because he was pretty sure Sophie was giving her lessons. The longer they all spent aboard Leverage the harder it was getting for Eliot to deny Parker anything when she gave him that look. Yes, he was her clan brother but, with Nate bouncing between drunk and obsessive and Sober and brooding more and more, Eliot was the closest to a stable force in Hardison and Parker’s lives. After the lives they’d led a sudden void of discipline and direction would just end badly.
Looking away meant he’d be able to completely ignore Parker’s pout and Dean’s knowing smirk. That boy wasn’t self-aware enough to be allowed that smirk.
He caught sight of the draft list in the window of the bar they were passing, surprised to see right at the top one of the brews from the short list his body could actually metabolize the way it was supposed to.
“We went to a bar?” He asked. “Club? Something like that. You, me, Parker, Hardison.” His gaze fell to the floor as he considered. “Did they lie ‘bout the beer? Switch it up for some reason?” It was a possibility. One reason, the main reason, he had to be especially careful with what he drank was if his body couldn’t metabolize the alcohol correctly he risked dying from alcohol poisoning from a single beer. There were a few times in his life when he’d gotten falling down drunk from something that wouldn’t have made a little kid tipsy for that reason. It would explain why he couldn’t remember much more.
“No. Beer was fine… at least it was.” He sighed. “I tell ya El, Hardison’s probably the only guy I’ve ever met who’d smarter than Sam but damn the kid’s dumb some times. I know you three traded out Common Sense and Survival Skills 101 for Intro to Theft and Espionage and all but…”
Dean was cracking jokes and poking fun at their training. Whatever happened had to have been worse than a bad reaction to beer.
“Hey!” Eliot snapped, a little more sharply than he meant to. But god his head hurt. “Just… tell me what happened.”
Dean sighed, wiping at his eyes in thought (or possibly out of exhaustion. He looked like he might have been up all night.) only to curse when he brushed his nose. Shaking it off he answered. “It started when we sent Hardison to the bar to get our second round.”
oOo
Dean lined up his shot and waited for the balls to flicker like they had been on and off over the course of the game. It had already cost Eliot one shot, his perfect aim not taking into account the balls not being there when he made his move, and Dean didn’t intend to make the same mistake. The basic game had turned into something of a competition. Dean’s life-experience gained expertise verses Eliots…
Occasionally infuriating Eliotness.
He made his shot sinking another ball and straightening to look around. Parker was back to their table nearby, grinning like she’d managed to find a couple of pockets to pick. Eliot was leaning against the booth, waiting for his turn, his eyes distant and unfocused. He was probably letting himself slip as far as he could while medicated. In a place like this, the pounding music and cram of life and movement and heat from the other patrons probably all melded together like Eliot had told him it sometimes did. Judging from his expression it was probably one of the rare times when the sensation it created felt good.
Dean delayed from telling Eliot it was his turn by looking for Hardison. The kid was taking his sweet time getting their drinks. Dean hoped he hadn’t gotten into trouble.
The kid was coming back over carrying four beers, the eyes of the three club girls who’d tried to chat Eliot up earlier following him back.
At least they weren’t trying to feel up Eliot anymore. The man didn’t show it but he hated strangers touching him and they’d gotten way farther into his personal space than the man was comfortable with anyone get.
Yeah, the sarcastic part of his mind that never shut up told him. That’s exactly why you’re glad they’ve moved onto Hardison.
Eliot stirred when Hardison arrived back, grabbing his beer and taking a long drink before going over to take his turn.
“Do you want me to steal their purses?” Parker asked, pulling Deans attention back to where she was sitting and away from Eliot (and the girls who were trying to be subtle about watching him again and damnit).
Dean considered the offer. After a few months teaching her about engines and slowly turning her into his assistant onboard Leverage he’d gotten pretty used to the little thief and her antics. “Nah, think it’d just annoy Mr. Smiles.”
Parker grinned. She did love that nickname for Eliot. Hell, some days Dean even thought she actually understood the joke.
They drank their beers and Eliot narrowly beat him at pool and Hardison called playing the winner and so the three of them, wisely, teamed up against Hardison.
They’d learned very early that Hardison’s training included advanced mathematics, improved spatial reasoning, and the precision needed to aim missile systems. According to him after hitting a target the size of a beer bottle with a rocket from a drone in low orbit a couple thousand miles away winning pool was pretty straight forward.
Considering it took them each taking a turn for every turn Hardison had for them to even have a chance to beat him he was probably right.
After Eliot’s second turn, when it was obvious the game would be won by someone before his third, Eliot said he was going to take a piss.
Ten minutes later Dean broke off his argument with Hardison about… frankly he didn’t even remember what ten seconds after doing so. He’d looked up, trying to see if Eliot was heading back yet, to see the man had been waylaid by the girls from earlier.
They’d surrounded him, one even closing in from behind with her hand on his shoulder, fingers skimming up the inside of his neck.
He felt something inside of him go cold and flare hot.
A second girl moved closer and Eliot leaned in to kiss her.
He clenched his teeth as his common sense told his libido to shut up and pay attention. Three club girls. Taking an interest in a guy but blown off. Next thing they’ve surrounded said guy and he’s suddenly all too willing to reciprocate.
Damnit. Hardison probably had no idea how little time it took to slip something into a drink. The boy got flustered when any girl looked at him too long.
“Guys. We need to get Eliot out of here. Now.” He stated, the shift in his tone of voice getting Parker and Hardison’s attention. “We got a couple Spice Girls.”
oOo
“Seriously? Seriously?” Eliot asked, breaking into the story. His head was hurting even worse now. He vaguely remembered the girls. He didn’t remember letting them touch him. And maybe it was his pounding head making him think Dean was talking about whatever the hell he was talking about.
“Spice girls.” Dean stated, flatly. “A couple decades ago they came out with this new drug. Pheromone based, it cured something, don’t really remember what. It only took a couple months of testing for it to get trashed ‘cause it did what pheromones do. Messed with the heads of the people on it and around it. A couple years later a drug lord came out with a new version of it called Spice and Ice or SnI. More potent. Can be used as a roofie or recreationally, endorphins, makes you really easy and feel good, heightens sex drive to. Problem is it’s highly addictive and once there’s a build up of it in your system... Don’t know why but it effects guys differently than chicks. Build it up in guys and you’ve got a junkie too strung out to do anything but lounge around and have sex with whoever’s willing to do most of the work. Build it up in girls and you end up with a sociopath hell bent on adding to her harem and thinking just clearly enough to do it and use it. Spice Girl’s what us Hunter’s call the girls who’ve been on SnI long enough to be actively building a harem of guys they keep drugged up. Normally by then the brain damage is permanent.”
Eliot swallowed the taste of bile at the back of his throat. A sudden memory. He wondered if it was based on the same…
He shook it off. “So, basically I was their latest target?”
Dean was silent a moment, relief and something else behind the grim smile. “Good news was I was watching out. Bad news was you never react to anything the normal way.”
oOo
Hardison seemed to understand what Dean had said. Parker was used to going along with things she didn’t understand when said in Dean’s that will make the engine explode voice. They rushed through the crowd and it was simple enough to get Eliot away from the especially after Parker tasered their leader.
Spice Girls or not Dean loved a bar you could taser someone in and have no one raise an eyebrow.
After that they rushed Eliot outside, Hardison running ahead to get the shuttle ready. They were still a few blocks away and Eliot was not steady on his feet.
Parker and Dean supported Eliot in between them, the drugs at least making him docile enough that he didn’t argue with being more or less carried down the street.
They were still a block away from the shuttle when Eliot started to shake, his breathing growing shallow and head lolling to the side.
It was then Dean registered that if Eliot couldn’t absorb and process the drug the way it was designed to be this could go very badly and the one who knew best how to deal with it was strung half out of his mind and on his way to being gone entirely.
They made it back to The Impala in one piece at least, laying Eliot on the bottom bunk. Sammy would probably bitch about shoes in his bed later. That brought a bitter grin to his face. Some days he missed the time when Sammy bitching about something was his biggest concern.
Hardison reeved the engines but didn’t lift off. Dean was always insistent that no one but him and Sam was allowed to drive his baby. He looked up to the opening to the cockpit. The sooner they got back to Leverage the sooner Eliot got the medical attention he needed.
Eliot curled sideways, knees pulling up to his chest, hands gripping his own shoulders like he was trying to hold himself in or together. His eyes were wide, pupils dilated almost wider.
“Parker.” Dean said quietly. “Tell Hardison if he scratches my baby I’ll pour his orange soda all over Leverage’s navigating system console.”
Parker nodded solemnly and went through the door to the cockpit, closing it behind her.
Gritting his teeth against the feeling of The Impala lifting off without him behind the controller Dean sat down by Eliot, reaching out to brush sweaty strands of hair away from his face. “哥你, don’t know how you manage this all.” He muttered.
He was talking about the hair. Yeah.
Eliot let out a little sigh at the contact the shaking easing a little and Dean started using his fingers to comb out the tangles mess. It seemed to help relax Eliot during his normal episodes.
…When had he gotten used to sitting with Eliot when his powers slipped his control and overwhelmed him for a little while? Didn’t he get enough of that insanity from Sam?
The tangles straightened out Dean trailed his fingers down along the side of Eliot’s face. Eliot didn’t normally like being touched, even by Dean, and Dean wasn’t really into acting like a chick.
But it helped relax Eliot at times like this and he’d never admit it but it was kind of a nice break from the slap-punch-mock-almost but never quite fuck thing they had going on.
Dean knew, not because he was told but because after a while the clues and hints became glaring and Dean knew how the alliance worked well enough it barely qualified as a guess, that Eliot’s experiences with sex weren’t what his flirting and wicked smile would imply. He and Eliot shared space a lot, they used physical gestures instead of words to share comfort.
But they’d only kissed twice, three times it that incident with the mudders milk counted and they’d been doing This for more than a month.
And as much as Dean was all for going full speed ahead Eliot was…
He said it was the psychic thing. That physical contact turned the volume in his head up to a point that was way past annoying.
And that was probably part of it but…
It didn’t matter though. Dean knew whatever they had going was better than Dean deserved even if his libido and right hand hated him for it. He could give Eliot all the time and space he wanted. There was plenty of it to spare up in the Black.
Dean ran his fingers down the side of Eliot’s face and neck, relaxing as Eliot relaxed and turned into the touch. It was odd, sometimes, how Eliot in his normal state hated touching but he seemed to want it whenever he wasn’t lucid.
Dean withdrew his hand, suddenly somewhat self conscious about the fact that this was less a “Eliot’s distracted but could stop it if he wanted” scenario and more of a case where he was drugged which was the definition of questionable consent.
Eliot made a noise that, coming from a less deadly man, might have been qualified as a whine.
Dean sighed and took his hand, thumb rubbing the inside of his wrist. “哥你, if you even remember this you asked for it. Just saying.”
Then Eliot’s hand tightened around his and Dean wasn’t entirely sure what happened next because suddenly he was on his back with Eliot straddling him and his mind decided all it could really manage processing was there was a reason this room and the cockpit was soundproofed but fuck…
“Hey, Eliot…” Dean said stopping when Eliot was suddenly right there kissing his neck. “Listen. Man. It’s not that I don’t like the thought but…” Damn did that man have a SOLID grasp of the things he could and frankly should do more often with his mouth. “Eliot, 哥你, you’re drugged. You’re having a weird reaction. Don’t think this is what you really want.”
Then Eliot was kissing him on the mouth and fumbling with his clothes and Dean wasn’t sure if he should just help Eliot or try to stop this or…
Well Eliot was drugged and could kill with his bare hands. Mix those together and fighting Eliot was probably not the wisest idea.
He realized he needed to decide what to do and do it very quickly when Eliot got frustrated and pulled at his shirt, popping the buttons and ripping it open a hand reaching for the fly of his pan-
oOo
Eliot shook his head, trying to push out the words, pushing himself back and up against the wall behind him, pulling his legs up against his chest, neither the wall at his back or his position, habitual after a lifetime of protecting himself from blows or bracing for a shock, helping to calm the panicsickscared feeling in his gut.
It had been nearly ten years. He’d…
“哥- Eliot?” Dean asked. The reaction to his story obviously worrying him. “Are…”
Now Eliot understood the wince, his own lack of clothing, why he’d been restrained.
我 爸爸的 好水.
“Did I rape you?” Eliot asked, voice sounding hollow in his own ears.
Silence.
Dean was suddenly there, a hand on his knee. Eliot wanted to growl, tell Dean not to touch him, but he’d lost the right to tell anyone that a long time ago. “No,” Dean said. “Don’t even…”
Eliot looked up and Dean placed his finger tips on Eliot’s cheek. Something in his head slipping and in his mind he could see himself as Dean saw him. Anger and grief twisting his lips into a scowl, eyes reflecting that rage and horror and self loathing normally kept buried deep enough not to suffocate him.
“Hardison came out of the cockpit.” Dean said. Eliot felt the truth in the words. Dean wasn’t lying to protect him. “He saw what was going on, guessed I wasn’t fighting back because I was worried you were strung out enough you might hurt me, and used your safeword. Your clothes are gone because when we rolled you off me you started puking and we were too busy trying to make sure you didn’t drown in your own vomit to also worry about not getting it all over you.”
That was a pleasant picture.
“You do owe me a new shirt but that’s about it,” Dean said retreating out of Eliot’s personal space. “Jerk.” The last bit was added with the tone they were more used to talking in. Clearly ready to move past the sharing caring hugs and bunnies portion of the evening.
“Asshole,” Eliot countered, slowly uncurling.
Dean stretched and threw a final insult. “Witch.” He turned toward the door before pausing to add, “You know. I meant it. I don’t mind the idea. I’d just rather you be in your head when we decide to do whatever it was you were planning on doing.”
Eliot let out a breath. “I… I’m not against the idea either.” He said, bracing himself for something he wasn’t even sure what.
Dean turned back to look at him, hands up and open in front of him in the gesture habitual for the non-ex agents on the ship by now when discussing an uncomfortable subject or speaking sharply. His tone was almost flippant but there was something. “Look. Whatever happened. I understand. I can cool my heels as long as it takes.”
Eliot shook his head. “No, you don’t.” He met Dean’s eyes, willing… himself… not to back away from this. “You think you know what they did to me? What I... what I did?”
Understanding dawned into horror on Dean’s face. “This isn’t…” He trailed off. “That…”
Eliot looked away, feeling old rage boil up and over. He needed to get out of here. Throw himself back into his training. Burn it out before.
Hands. Barely there. Gentle. But fingers callused by weapons and work. A sensation of not fear but something Eliot wouldn’t name right now. His head was turned and lips, more hesitant than the fingers, met his.
He could all but feel Dean telling him this was okay, this was what Dean wanted, that it was okay to let this happen.
And he kissed back.
Happiness and pleasure rolled back across his senses from Dean and that spurred him on for a moment before the kiss ended.
There was silence for a moment then it passed and Dean quirked a smile and mouthed and insult and he helped Eliot to his feet, a joking comment about helping Eliot into something more comfortable.
Later, after they finally did what they’d been dancing around, after Hardison barged into the crew quarters proving a sock on the doorknob was an additional lesson to add to Life Skills 101, and after Dean headed planet side with Sam for a hunt and came back with a few scratches and look in his eyes…
Maybe then they’d talk about what happened, what changed, or the issues they still needed to deal with for this to have any hope of staying healthy in the long run.
But, really, they probably wouldn’t.
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Eliot/Dean
Verse: Steal The Sky
Fandoms: Leverage, Firefly, Supernatural
Summary: Concerning The Morning After, Spice Girls, and a weird reason to finally just Do It.
Notes: For the Love Spell/Potion gone Wrong Square on my H/c bingo card. Irnoically the one I figured I'd put off until the end of December.
The events of Steal The Sky generally run parallel to cannon (assume the team run the various aired jobs only, you know, in space.) assume this takes place after The Miracle Job.
Shameless shout out to a group from my childhood is shameless.
Warning:Contains references to dub con and past non-con.
There was very little in the verse that Eliot hated worse than that moment right after he woke up when he realized he had no idea where he was and no memory of how he got there.
He stayed still, a lifetime in and out of hell had long since taught him to never give away consciousness before processing his surroundings. He was almost naked, just his boxers still on. The hard medical bed underneath him was warm. He’d been laying there long enough for his body heat to be absorbed. There was pressure on his wrists.
Panic surged through him when he realized he’d been restrained to a medical bed. Had he been caught? Were the others safe? Were they taking him back to Tartarus? Or Cupids Quiver? Or the Labs? His last Handler had always told him if he outlived his usefulness they’d take him back to the labs and take him apart.
Beeping, the machines monitoring his heart registering his spike of panic, and a hand touched his shoulder.
His eyes opened and he jerked upward, forcing his muscles to the edge of their limits and past to the ones created by the Areas’ meddling. The restraints strained and the one on his right arm gave way allowing him to get in a solid punch, knocking the green-eyed scientist back.
It bought him a few seconds, long enough to fumble for his other restraint. His hands were shaking. His head was roaring, pain like fists pounding against the inside of his skull like Athena from the skull of Zeus letting him know he’d been drugged.
His hands were shaking too badly, adrenalin, fear, aftereffects of the drugs. He couldn’t get his other hand free.
“Eliot!” A voice called. He recognized it but it wasn’t the kind of recognition he usually had. It didn’t come from the innate, instinctive, terror that seized him whenever he heard the voices of the scientists and doctors who’d worked on him as a child. “哥你, calm down.” 哥你, ‘dude’, someone called him that.
He took a deep breath, a hand settled on his shoulder, another appeared in his line of vision to free his other hand from it’s restraints. “Please tell me you’re just freaking out ‘cause Nate had the bright idea to restrain ya and not cause it hasn’t worn off yet.”
Dean. His mind registered. It was Dean’s voice. Dean’s hand. Dean’s eyes.
Shit. He’d just punched Dean.
“What the hell?” He asked, cause really he was way too far behind to ask anything more insightful. He turned once his other hand was free, catching sight of Dean.
He was gently prodding his nose, probably trying to figure out whether or not Eliot had broken it. “Do you remember what happened last night?” Dean asked. When Eliot just kept staring at him he gave a dry smile. “Take that as a no. You know what day it is?”
Noise. Light. Colors. It wasn’t a core world but the planet had some decent sized cities. Enough to get lost in but he’d been taking his medications again since they’d be in and out of cities like this for the duration of the job. The dose wouldn’t wear off for a while yet so he could enjoy the sensation of life without losing himself to it.
Eliot ran his hands through his hair. “Last I remember it was the 23rd of November. We’d just handed over the payout to the client and agreed to never speak of the job again.”
“You remember what we did after?” Dean asked, settling into a chair nearby, and Eliot couldn’t help but wonder if the wince was for more than just his nose.
“Do you think they notice if I stole those?” Parker asked, her voice drifting back to him from where she was talking to Hardison, walking slightly ahead.
“They’re stilts, Parker,” Eliot growled before Hardison could answer. “An’ he’s usin’ them. I think he’d notice.”
Parker started pouting and Eliot looked away because he was pretty sure Sophie was giving her lessons. The longer they all spent aboard Leverage the harder it was getting for Eliot to deny Parker anything when she gave him that look. Yes, he was her clan brother but, with Nate bouncing between drunk and obsessive and Sober and brooding more and more, Eliot was the closest to a stable force in Hardison and Parker’s lives. After the lives they’d led a sudden void of discipline and direction would just end badly.
Looking away meant he’d be able to completely ignore Parker’s pout and Dean’s knowing smirk. That boy wasn’t self-aware enough to be allowed that smirk.
He caught sight of the draft list in the window of the bar they were passing, surprised to see right at the top one of the brews from the short list his body could actually metabolize the way it was supposed to.
“We went to a bar?” He asked. “Club? Something like that. You, me, Parker, Hardison.” His gaze fell to the floor as he considered. “Did they lie ‘bout the beer? Switch it up for some reason?” It was a possibility. One reason, the main reason, he had to be especially careful with what he drank was if his body couldn’t metabolize the alcohol correctly he risked dying from alcohol poisoning from a single beer. There were a few times in his life when he’d gotten falling down drunk from something that wouldn’t have made a little kid tipsy for that reason. It would explain why he couldn’t remember much more.
“No. Beer was fine… at least it was.” He sighed. “I tell ya El, Hardison’s probably the only guy I’ve ever met who’d smarter than Sam but damn the kid’s dumb some times. I know you three traded out Common Sense and Survival Skills 101 for Intro to Theft and Espionage and all but…”
Dean was cracking jokes and poking fun at their training. Whatever happened had to have been worse than a bad reaction to beer.
“Hey!” Eliot snapped, a little more sharply than he meant to. But god his head hurt. “Just… tell me what happened.”
Dean sighed, wiping at his eyes in thought (or possibly out of exhaustion. He looked like he might have been up all night.) only to curse when he brushed his nose. Shaking it off he answered. “It started when we sent Hardison to the bar to get our second round.”
oOo
Dean lined up his shot and waited for the balls to flicker like they had been on and off over the course of the game. It had already cost Eliot one shot, his perfect aim not taking into account the balls not being there when he made his move, and Dean didn’t intend to make the same mistake. The basic game had turned into something of a competition. Dean’s life-experience gained expertise verses Eliots…
Occasionally infuriating Eliotness.
He made his shot sinking another ball and straightening to look around. Parker was back to their table nearby, grinning like she’d managed to find a couple of pockets to pick. Eliot was leaning against the booth, waiting for his turn, his eyes distant and unfocused. He was probably letting himself slip as far as he could while medicated. In a place like this, the pounding music and cram of life and movement and heat from the other patrons probably all melded together like Eliot had told him it sometimes did. Judging from his expression it was probably one of the rare times when the sensation it created felt good.
Dean delayed from telling Eliot it was his turn by looking for Hardison. The kid was taking his sweet time getting their drinks. Dean hoped he hadn’t gotten into trouble.
The kid was coming back over carrying four beers, the eyes of the three club girls who’d tried to chat Eliot up earlier following him back.
At least they weren’t trying to feel up Eliot anymore. The man didn’t show it but he hated strangers touching him and they’d gotten way farther into his personal space than the man was comfortable with anyone get.
Yeah, the sarcastic part of his mind that never shut up told him. That’s exactly why you’re glad they’ve moved onto Hardison.
Eliot stirred when Hardison arrived back, grabbing his beer and taking a long drink before going over to take his turn.
“Do you want me to steal their purses?” Parker asked, pulling Deans attention back to where she was sitting and away from Eliot (and the girls who were trying to be subtle about watching him again and damnit).
Dean considered the offer. After a few months teaching her about engines and slowly turning her into his assistant onboard Leverage he’d gotten pretty used to the little thief and her antics. “Nah, think it’d just annoy Mr. Smiles.”
Parker grinned. She did love that nickname for Eliot. Hell, some days Dean even thought she actually understood the joke.
They drank their beers and Eliot narrowly beat him at pool and Hardison called playing the winner and so the three of them, wisely, teamed up against Hardison.
They’d learned very early that Hardison’s training included advanced mathematics, improved spatial reasoning, and the precision needed to aim missile systems. According to him after hitting a target the size of a beer bottle with a rocket from a drone in low orbit a couple thousand miles away winning pool was pretty straight forward.
Considering it took them each taking a turn for every turn Hardison had for them to even have a chance to beat him he was probably right.
After Eliot’s second turn, when it was obvious the game would be won by someone before his third, Eliot said he was going to take a piss.
Ten minutes later Dean broke off his argument with Hardison about… frankly he didn’t even remember what ten seconds after doing so. He’d looked up, trying to see if Eliot was heading back yet, to see the man had been waylaid by the girls from earlier.
They’d surrounded him, one even closing in from behind with her hand on his shoulder, fingers skimming up the inside of his neck.
He felt something inside of him go cold and flare hot.
A second girl moved closer and Eliot leaned in to kiss her.
He clenched his teeth as his common sense told his libido to shut up and pay attention. Three club girls. Taking an interest in a guy but blown off. Next thing they’ve surrounded said guy and he’s suddenly all too willing to reciprocate.
Damnit. Hardison probably had no idea how little time it took to slip something into a drink. The boy got flustered when any girl looked at him too long.
“Guys. We need to get Eliot out of here. Now.” He stated, the shift in his tone of voice getting Parker and Hardison’s attention. “We got a couple Spice Girls.”
oOo
“Seriously? Seriously?” Eliot asked, breaking into the story. His head was hurting even worse now. He vaguely remembered the girls. He didn’t remember letting them touch him. And maybe it was his pounding head making him think Dean was talking about whatever the hell he was talking about.
“Spice girls.” Dean stated, flatly. “A couple decades ago they came out with this new drug. Pheromone based, it cured something, don’t really remember what. It only took a couple months of testing for it to get trashed ‘cause it did what pheromones do. Messed with the heads of the people on it and around it. A couple years later a drug lord came out with a new version of it called Spice and Ice or SnI. More potent. Can be used as a roofie or recreationally, endorphins, makes you really easy and feel good, heightens sex drive to. Problem is it’s highly addictive and once there’s a build up of it in your system... Don’t know why but it effects guys differently than chicks. Build it up in guys and you’ve got a junkie too strung out to do anything but lounge around and have sex with whoever’s willing to do most of the work. Build it up in girls and you end up with a sociopath hell bent on adding to her harem and thinking just clearly enough to do it and use it. Spice Girl’s what us Hunter’s call the girls who’ve been on SnI long enough to be actively building a harem of guys they keep drugged up. Normally by then the brain damage is permanent.”
Eliot swallowed the taste of bile at the back of his throat. A sudden memory. He wondered if it was based on the same…
He shook it off. “So, basically I was their latest target?”
Dean was silent a moment, relief and something else behind the grim smile. “Good news was I was watching out. Bad news was you never react to anything the normal way.”
oOo
Hardison seemed to understand what Dean had said. Parker was used to going along with things she didn’t understand when said in Dean’s that will make the engine explode voice. They rushed through the crowd and it was simple enough to get Eliot away from the especially after Parker tasered their leader.
Spice Girls or not Dean loved a bar you could taser someone in and have no one raise an eyebrow.
After that they rushed Eliot outside, Hardison running ahead to get the shuttle ready. They were still a few blocks away and Eliot was not steady on his feet.
Parker and Dean supported Eliot in between them, the drugs at least making him docile enough that he didn’t argue with being more or less carried down the street.
They were still a block away from the shuttle when Eliot started to shake, his breathing growing shallow and head lolling to the side.
It was then Dean registered that if Eliot couldn’t absorb and process the drug the way it was designed to be this could go very badly and the one who knew best how to deal with it was strung half out of his mind and on his way to being gone entirely.
They made it back to The Impala in one piece at least, laying Eliot on the bottom bunk. Sammy would probably bitch about shoes in his bed later. That brought a bitter grin to his face. Some days he missed the time when Sammy bitching about something was his biggest concern.
Hardison reeved the engines but didn’t lift off. Dean was always insistent that no one but him and Sam was allowed to drive his baby. He looked up to the opening to the cockpit. The sooner they got back to Leverage the sooner Eliot got the medical attention he needed.
Eliot curled sideways, knees pulling up to his chest, hands gripping his own shoulders like he was trying to hold himself in or together. His eyes were wide, pupils dilated almost wider.
“Parker.” Dean said quietly. “Tell Hardison if he scratches my baby I’ll pour his orange soda all over Leverage’s navigating system console.”
Parker nodded solemnly and went through the door to the cockpit, closing it behind her.
Gritting his teeth against the feeling of The Impala lifting off without him behind the controller Dean sat down by Eliot, reaching out to brush sweaty strands of hair away from his face. “哥你, don’t know how you manage this all.” He muttered.
He was talking about the hair. Yeah.
Eliot let out a little sigh at the contact the shaking easing a little and Dean started using his fingers to comb out the tangles mess. It seemed to help relax Eliot during his normal episodes.
…When had he gotten used to sitting with Eliot when his powers slipped his control and overwhelmed him for a little while? Didn’t he get enough of that insanity from Sam?
The tangles straightened out Dean trailed his fingers down along the side of Eliot’s face. Eliot didn’t normally like being touched, even by Dean, and Dean wasn’t really into acting like a chick.
But it helped relax Eliot at times like this and he’d never admit it but it was kind of a nice break from the slap-punch-mock-almost but never quite fuck thing they had going on.
Dean knew, not because he was told but because after a while the clues and hints became glaring and Dean knew how the alliance worked well enough it barely qualified as a guess, that Eliot’s experiences with sex weren’t what his flirting and wicked smile would imply. He and Eliot shared space a lot, they used physical gestures instead of words to share comfort.
But they’d only kissed twice, three times it that incident with the mudders milk counted and they’d been doing This for more than a month.
And as much as Dean was all for going full speed ahead Eliot was…
He said it was the psychic thing. That physical contact turned the volume in his head up to a point that was way past annoying.
And that was probably part of it but…
It didn’t matter though. Dean knew whatever they had going was better than Dean deserved even if his libido and right hand hated him for it. He could give Eliot all the time and space he wanted. There was plenty of it to spare up in the Black.
Dean ran his fingers down the side of Eliot’s face and neck, relaxing as Eliot relaxed and turned into the touch. It was odd, sometimes, how Eliot in his normal state hated touching but he seemed to want it whenever he wasn’t lucid.
Dean withdrew his hand, suddenly somewhat self conscious about the fact that this was less a “Eliot’s distracted but could stop it if he wanted” scenario and more of a case where he was drugged which was the definition of questionable consent.
Eliot made a noise that, coming from a less deadly man, might have been qualified as a whine.
Dean sighed and took his hand, thumb rubbing the inside of his wrist. “哥你, if you even remember this you asked for it. Just saying.”
Then Eliot’s hand tightened around his and Dean wasn’t entirely sure what happened next because suddenly he was on his back with Eliot straddling him and his mind decided all it could really manage processing was there was a reason this room and the cockpit was soundproofed but fuck…
“Hey, Eliot…” Dean said stopping when Eliot was suddenly right there kissing his neck. “Listen. Man. It’s not that I don’t like the thought but…” Damn did that man have a SOLID grasp of the things he could and frankly should do more often with his mouth. “Eliot, 哥你, you’re drugged. You’re having a weird reaction. Don’t think this is what you really want.”
Then Eliot was kissing him on the mouth and fumbling with his clothes and Dean wasn’t sure if he should just help Eliot or try to stop this or…
Well Eliot was drugged and could kill with his bare hands. Mix those together and fighting Eliot was probably not the wisest idea.
He realized he needed to decide what to do and do it very quickly when Eliot got frustrated and pulled at his shirt, popping the buttons and ripping it open a hand reaching for the fly of his pan-
oOo
Eliot shook his head, trying to push out the words, pushing himself back and up against the wall behind him, pulling his legs up against his chest, neither the wall at his back or his position, habitual after a lifetime of protecting himself from blows or bracing for a shock, helping to calm the panicsickscared feeling in his gut.
It had been nearly ten years. He’d…
“哥- Eliot?” Dean asked. The reaction to his story obviously worrying him. “Are…”
Now Eliot understood the wince, his own lack of clothing, why he’d been restrained.
我 爸爸的 好水.
“Did I rape you?” Eliot asked, voice sounding hollow in his own ears.
Silence.
Dean was suddenly there, a hand on his knee. Eliot wanted to growl, tell Dean not to touch him, but he’d lost the right to tell anyone that a long time ago. “No,” Dean said. “Don’t even…”
Eliot looked up and Dean placed his finger tips on Eliot’s cheek. Something in his head slipping and in his mind he could see himself as Dean saw him. Anger and grief twisting his lips into a scowl, eyes reflecting that rage and horror and self loathing normally kept buried deep enough not to suffocate him.
“Hardison came out of the cockpit.” Dean said. Eliot felt the truth in the words. Dean wasn’t lying to protect him. “He saw what was going on, guessed I wasn’t fighting back because I was worried you were strung out enough you might hurt me, and used your safeword. Your clothes are gone because when we rolled you off me you started puking and we were too busy trying to make sure you didn’t drown in your own vomit to also worry about not getting it all over you.”
That was a pleasant picture.
“You do owe me a new shirt but that’s about it,” Dean said retreating out of Eliot’s personal space. “Jerk.” The last bit was added with the tone they were more used to talking in. Clearly ready to move past the sharing caring hugs and bunnies portion of the evening.
“Asshole,” Eliot countered, slowly uncurling.
Dean stretched and threw a final insult. “Witch.” He turned toward the door before pausing to add, “You know. I meant it. I don’t mind the idea. I’d just rather you be in your head when we decide to do whatever it was you were planning on doing.”
Eliot let out a breath. “I… I’m not against the idea either.” He said, bracing himself for something he wasn’t even sure what.
Dean turned back to look at him, hands up and open in front of him in the gesture habitual for the non-ex agents on the ship by now when discussing an uncomfortable subject or speaking sharply. His tone was almost flippant but there was something. “Look. Whatever happened. I understand. I can cool my heels as long as it takes.”
Eliot shook his head. “No, you don’t.” He met Dean’s eyes, willing… himself… not to back away from this. “You think you know what they did to me? What I... what I did?”
Understanding dawned into horror on Dean’s face. “This isn’t…” He trailed off. “That…”
Eliot looked away, feeling old rage boil up and over. He needed to get out of here. Throw himself back into his training. Burn it out before.
Hands. Barely there. Gentle. But fingers callused by weapons and work. A sensation of not fear but something Eliot wouldn’t name right now. His head was turned and lips, more hesitant than the fingers, met his.
He could all but feel Dean telling him this was okay, this was what Dean wanted, that it was okay to let this happen.
And he kissed back.
Happiness and pleasure rolled back across his senses from Dean and that spurred him on for a moment before the kiss ended.
There was silence for a moment then it passed and Dean quirked a smile and mouthed and insult and he helped Eliot to his feet, a joking comment about helping Eliot into something more comfortable.
Later, after they finally did what they’d been dancing around, after Hardison barged into the crew quarters proving a sock on the doorknob was an additional lesson to add to Life Skills 101, and after Dean headed planet side with Sam for a hunt and came back with a few scratches and look in his eyes…
Maybe then they’d talk about what happened, what changed, or the issues they still needed to deal with for this to have any hope of staying healthy in the long run.
But, really, they probably wouldn’t.