Fic: Just Fish (Leverage, PG, Eliot and Nate)
Title: Just Fish
Author: sheryden
Written for: nightcamedown for leverage_sesa.
Characters: Eliot and Nate
Word Count: 1124
Spoilers: Slight spoilers for “The Carnival Job” and “The Experimental Job.”
Rating/Warnings: PG; none
Disclaimer: It they were mine, Eliot would be shirtless a lot, and I would be his love interest.
Summary: Eliot and Nate take a quiet fishing trip.
Author's Notes: This was originally going to be a team fishing trip, but Eliot and Nate didn't seem to want anyone else there. Hope you like it!
“Nate, we’re here!”
Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, Nate unfolded his body, which had been twisted uncomfortably into a half-sitting, half-lying position for the majority of the drive. As he stretched the kinks out of his back, he let his gaze drift over to Eliot, who was grinning like a little kid.
Popping open the driver’s side door, Eliot scrambled out of the truck and bounced a little as he closed his eyes and took a dramatic breath. “Mmm. Smell that. You can’t get fresh air like this in the city.”
“No,” Nate said, wrenching himself from his seat. “I don’t guess you can.” Once he’d stepped out onto the patch of dirt and grass, he rubbed his eyes and took a proper look at his surroundings. A sea of green and brown and flecks of yellow blanketed the background, and he had to squint against the beams of sunlight that shimmered through the tops of the trees. A few feet away, the pond that he and Eliot would be fishing in sat still and unadorned. It was wild and raw and peaceful here. Nate could understand why it appealed to Eliot so much.
“You know,” he said. “Parker really wanted to come with us.”
By now, Eliot had circled around the back of the truck and was unpacking their gear. “Nah,” he said with an appreciative smile. “She just wanted to touch the worms. I told her I’d bring a couple home for her. You ever bait a hook, Nate?”
“Literally or metaphorically?” He paused a beat, then said, “Yeah, once. Office teambuilding retreat when I was still with IYS.” Really, though, he’d spent the majority of the trip sneaking off by himself trying to mentally reconstruct what had happened to a stolen Degas. He’d had a moment of clarity that weekend and had figured out how to recover the painting, so it hadn’t been a total loss.
Eliot gazed at him for a moment, then tossed a fishing hat at his face. “This is gonna be a great weekend. No jobs, no computers, no people. The weather’s perfect. Just a little chill in the air, but not too much.” He took a breath, then added, “Thanks for coming with me, Nate.”
Nodding, Nate lifted two camp chairs out of the truck. He could take or leave the great outdoors, but he figured Eliot needed a weekend respite. They hadn’t had much downtime since toppling Moreau all those months ago. And since they were between jobs at the moment, Eliot was starting to get itchy and restless. And that could be a dangerous thing.
For several minutes, they unloaded their gear in companionable silence. After most of the essentials were unpacked, Eliot gingerly pulled his fishing rod out of its resting place in the truck. Nate watched as he gently stroked the handle of the rod with his thumb. It never ceased to amaze Nate that Eliot could be so tender and loving with hands that had done what those hands had done.
“Hey, Eliot. You want me to leave you two alone?”
Eliot flashed a sloppy grin. “This is my baby,” he said. “It was my dad’s rod. I remember him using it when he took me fishing. My mom gave it to me when he passed-said he would’ve wanted me to have it.” He went silent for a moment and licked his lips. “A rod can last a good long while if you take care of it.”
Nate arched an eyebrow. “You held onto it all this time? I’m impressed.”
“You’d be amazed what I’ve held onto, Nate.” Leaning the rod gently against the truck, Eliot stripped down to his beater and started to rummage through his pack for a fresh shirt.
As Eliot dressed, Nate noticed a thin sliver of discoloration on his shoulder just above his bicep. “That a new scar?”
Eliot shrugged. “Carnival.”
“Right.” Nate let out a breath and walked around to the passenger side of the truck to fish out his thermos. He poured a bit of coffee into the lid and dipped the thermos toward Eliot. “It’s Irish.”
Eliot shook his head. “Got a cooler full of beer. That’s all I need.”
Gear and drinks in hand, the two men settled into their chairs and let time begin to pass quietly. Every now and then, Nate would sneak a glance at Eliot out of the corner of his eye. Away from the city, Eliot looked content, almost serene. Given the events of the last year, Nate was grateful for any sliver of peace and normalcy they could get. Eliot, in particular, had been through a hell of a lot this past year.
He’d taken it all with dignity, of course, and Nate knew him well enough to know how he preferred to cope with the darkness. Before he and Eliot had set off on their fishing excursion, though, Sophie had dropped a few not-so-subtle hints that Nate should get Eliot to open up about things. Eliot wasn’t one to emote any more than Nate was, but after the thrashing he’d taken at the carnival and his recent confrontation with a CIA interrogator, Nate figured it wouldn’t hurt to feel him out a bit. Make sure he’s holding it together.
Heaving a breath, he said, “You know, Eliot, you’ve taken a hell of a beating lately.”
“No more than usual.” Eliot kept his gaze fixed on the stillness of the pond.
Nate shifted awkwardly in his seat and wished he’d brought more Jameson. “Yeah, but things have been pretty intense. Hey, have you checked on your new veteran friend?”
Eliot turned toward Nate and gazed at him with a blank expression on his face. “Yeah, he’s doing okay. He’s a tough guy. He was a Marine.”
“He’d have to be tough.”
Letting out a breath, Eliot popped open the cooler and pulled out a beer. He held up a bottle and swiped up a little droplet of water with his index finger. “Could’ve been me if I hadn’t hooked up with Moreau. Been thinking about that.”
Nate cleared his throat and stared at his fishing rod. “Do you, uh, want to talk about it?”
Eliot looked momentarily alarmed. Shaking his head, he plastered a cool expression on his face and turned back toward the pond. “I just did.”
“I mean actually talk. Sophie thought you might want to. “
“Do you want to talk about your drinking?”
Nate licked his lips. “No.”
They gazed at each other for a moment, then Eliot smiled, smacked Nate on the shoulder, and settled back into his chair. Pulling his hat down over his eyes, he said, “Just fish, Nate. Some things don’t need to talked about.”
Master Fic List
***
Author: sheryden
Written for: nightcamedown for leverage_sesa.
Characters: Eliot and Nate
Word Count: 1124
Spoilers: Slight spoilers for “The Carnival Job” and “The Experimental Job.”
Rating/Warnings: PG; none
Disclaimer: It they were mine, Eliot would be shirtless a lot, and I would be his love interest.
Summary: Eliot and Nate take a quiet fishing trip.
Author's Notes: This was originally going to be a team fishing trip, but Eliot and Nate didn't seem to want anyone else there. Hope you like it!
“Nate, we’re here!”
Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, Nate unfolded his body, which had been twisted uncomfortably into a half-sitting, half-lying position for the majority of the drive. As he stretched the kinks out of his back, he let his gaze drift over to Eliot, who was grinning like a little kid.
Popping open the driver’s side door, Eliot scrambled out of the truck and bounced a little as he closed his eyes and took a dramatic breath. “Mmm. Smell that. You can’t get fresh air like this in the city.”
“No,” Nate said, wrenching himself from his seat. “I don’t guess you can.” Once he’d stepped out onto the patch of dirt and grass, he rubbed his eyes and took a proper look at his surroundings. A sea of green and brown and flecks of yellow blanketed the background, and he had to squint against the beams of sunlight that shimmered through the tops of the trees. A few feet away, the pond that he and Eliot would be fishing in sat still and unadorned. It was wild and raw and peaceful here. Nate could understand why it appealed to Eliot so much.
“You know,” he said. “Parker really wanted to come with us.”
By now, Eliot had circled around the back of the truck and was unpacking their gear. “Nah,” he said with an appreciative smile. “She just wanted to touch the worms. I told her I’d bring a couple home for her. You ever bait a hook, Nate?”
“Literally or metaphorically?” He paused a beat, then said, “Yeah, once. Office teambuilding retreat when I was still with IYS.” Really, though, he’d spent the majority of the trip sneaking off by himself trying to mentally reconstruct what had happened to a stolen Degas. He’d had a moment of clarity that weekend and had figured out how to recover the painting, so it hadn’t been a total loss.
Eliot gazed at him for a moment, then tossed a fishing hat at his face. “This is gonna be a great weekend. No jobs, no computers, no people. The weather’s perfect. Just a little chill in the air, but not too much.” He took a breath, then added, “Thanks for coming with me, Nate.”
Nodding, Nate lifted two camp chairs out of the truck. He could take or leave the great outdoors, but he figured Eliot needed a weekend respite. They hadn’t had much downtime since toppling Moreau all those months ago. And since they were between jobs at the moment, Eliot was starting to get itchy and restless. And that could be a dangerous thing.
For several minutes, they unloaded their gear in companionable silence. After most of the essentials were unpacked, Eliot gingerly pulled his fishing rod out of its resting place in the truck. Nate watched as he gently stroked the handle of the rod with his thumb. It never ceased to amaze Nate that Eliot could be so tender and loving with hands that had done what those hands had done.
“Hey, Eliot. You want me to leave you two alone?”
Eliot flashed a sloppy grin. “This is my baby,” he said. “It was my dad’s rod. I remember him using it when he took me fishing. My mom gave it to me when he passed-said he would’ve wanted me to have it.” He went silent for a moment and licked his lips. “A rod can last a good long while if you take care of it.”
Nate arched an eyebrow. “You held onto it all this time? I’m impressed.”
“You’d be amazed what I’ve held onto, Nate.” Leaning the rod gently against the truck, Eliot stripped down to his beater and started to rummage through his pack for a fresh shirt.
As Eliot dressed, Nate noticed a thin sliver of discoloration on his shoulder just above his bicep. “That a new scar?”
Eliot shrugged. “Carnival.”
“Right.” Nate let out a breath and walked around to the passenger side of the truck to fish out his thermos. He poured a bit of coffee into the lid and dipped the thermos toward Eliot. “It’s Irish.”
Eliot shook his head. “Got a cooler full of beer. That’s all I need.”
Gear and drinks in hand, the two men settled into their chairs and let time begin to pass quietly. Every now and then, Nate would sneak a glance at Eliot out of the corner of his eye. Away from the city, Eliot looked content, almost serene. Given the events of the last year, Nate was grateful for any sliver of peace and normalcy they could get. Eliot, in particular, had been through a hell of a lot this past year.
He’d taken it all with dignity, of course, and Nate knew him well enough to know how he preferred to cope with the darkness. Before he and Eliot had set off on their fishing excursion, though, Sophie had dropped a few not-so-subtle hints that Nate should get Eliot to open up about things. Eliot wasn’t one to emote any more than Nate was, but after the thrashing he’d taken at the carnival and his recent confrontation with a CIA interrogator, Nate figured it wouldn’t hurt to feel him out a bit. Make sure he’s holding it together.
Heaving a breath, he said, “You know, Eliot, you’ve taken a hell of a beating lately.”
“No more than usual.” Eliot kept his gaze fixed on the stillness of the pond.
Nate shifted awkwardly in his seat and wished he’d brought more Jameson. “Yeah, but things have been pretty intense. Hey, have you checked on your new veteran friend?”
Eliot turned toward Nate and gazed at him with a blank expression on his face. “Yeah, he’s doing okay. He’s a tough guy. He was a Marine.”
“He’d have to be tough.”
Letting out a breath, Eliot popped open the cooler and pulled out a beer. He held up a bottle and swiped up a little droplet of water with his index finger. “Could’ve been me if I hadn’t hooked up with Moreau. Been thinking about that.”
Nate cleared his throat and stared at his fishing rod. “Do you, uh, want to talk about it?”
Eliot looked momentarily alarmed. Shaking his head, he plastered a cool expression on his face and turned back toward the pond. “I just did.”
“I mean actually talk. Sophie thought you might want to. “
“Do you want to talk about your drinking?”
Nate licked his lips. “No.”
They gazed at each other for a moment, then Eliot smiled, smacked Nate on the shoulder, and settled back into his chair. Pulling his hat down over his eyes, he said, “Just fish, Nate. Some things don’t need to talked about.”
Master Fic List
***