The Two-Retriever Job
A/N I don't own Leverage. Darn.
“But Momma,” Eliot heard, as he entered his home through the kitchen door. His brother, was whining. "Momma, they STOLED it!"
Eliot perked up fast, even after a long day of sixth grade long division. He looked at his brother, a short, tubby third grader. The kid was holding an ice pack to his knee, another to his cheek. It looked like he'd been tripped and landed poorly. He'd gotten hurt, but he hadn't really been beat up or anything. But still... "Who took what?" Eliot asked sitting down.
As the younger boy opened his mouth their mother interrupted; "It's not important, what's important is that no one got hurt."
Eliot flashed her a look and, before he could think exclaimed, "No one got hurt? He sure as heck looks hurt. I'll tell you if no one was hurt before..."
"Eliot," His mother warned.
"Yes, ma'am" he sighed, looking at the wood grain, "I'm sorry."
"It was these three big boys," Eliot's brother began again. "And they came up to me and they to me to give 'em my dog, but I wasn' gonna let 'em have Spike, an' so I tried to hit 'em like you showed me an' I got one o' 'em in the gut but the oth--"
"You tried to take all three?" Eliot asked with distain. A nod. "Okay, d'you know any names?"
His brother smiled and listed them 'big boys' by name: "The Baker Boys; Billy Bob, Brandon, and Louis."
Eliot nodded, they were in middle school! but they weren't keeping his lil' bro's dog.
Eliot changed out of his school clothes, put his books away, everything he always did. Then when his mom was starting to cook dinner he slipped out, telling her he was going for a walk. That stupid lab puppy meant the world to his brother and Eliot was not going to let any thing happen to it.
The Bakers were the biggest most bullish kids in town, and Eliot was going to go steal a dog back from them. He was either insane or stupid... Or real, real, brave. He wasn't getting scared as he got closer to the yard where he knew the Bakers went to smoke, where he knew Spike would be. In fact his anger and courage, and pride, were somehow multiplying to alarming quantities. And even when he got the the gate and the hinges swung with a gunfire loud creak. Even when Eliot saw the puppy was right next to the boys and they would see him no matter what. Even when he started to approach the trio. He never felt fear.
Eliot wasn't even afraid when the youngest brother, still older than him, got up and looked him over menacingly. When the same kid decided Eliot should leave, and he held his ground, Eliot wasn't afraid of the blow he received to the side of the head. He ducked away from the next one, and caught the third in his left palm. He wasn't sure how, or why, but Eliot twisted the older boy's arm and heard a crack. The boy yelped, Eliot took advantage and popped the boy under the chin with his right fist. One down.
The next boy, the middle one, was standing and ready, he trash talked, but Eliot didn't hear it. The only thing he hear was the snap of a rib when the Baker was rammed in the chest by.. Oh, yeah. When he rammed the Baker in the chest with his knee. The second boy hit the ground hard.
Last up was Billy Baker, sixteen and still in the ninth grade. And he was ready. Billy landed a blow to Eliot chin, the Eliot got Bill's neck, Bill swung for Eliot and missed, Eliot swung for Bill and hit. Bill's nose was gushing blood. He would soon have a black eye and he wasn't going to look good in the morning (of course if you start at the ground floor...). They backed away from each other. Eliot still looked good.
Eliot looked at the oldest Baker son, smiled a charming, dangerous smile and said, "I came for the Lab."
The Baker held his hands back and moved away, making room for Eliot to retrieve the yellow canine. Eliot was only inches from grabbing Spike when he realised something. This was too darn easy. And at that the young fighter turned in place, fast, to meet an almost assailant in the ear. Billy Baker, in his ninth grade stupidity, thought he could sneak up on Eliot Spencer. This took more work, this time he put more force, more speed, and more precision into every hit, kick, punch, or blow. When the last boy hit the ground Eliot grabbed the pup, untied it from the rope and tree it had been tethered to and turned back to the idiot muggers.
"You ain't gonna be messin' with my brother no more, right?" He asked. When the answer didn't come he tried again. "I said," He growled, digging his heel into the nearest hand, Bill's. "You ain't messin' with my brother no more. Ya got it?"
The boys whimpered that they'd be good, not be bullies. And then were left in pain and tears as Eliot walked home, back to be his baby brother's hero, because he got the little yellow lab back. No one had taught him to fight, he never had fought before, but he liked it, especially since he was doing it to help someone. He could get used to that, get stuff back, maybe for glory, maybe money, maybe just help people by doing what he was obviously good at.