Dammit! I has an inspiration!
Okay, damn the new Leverage for making my brain work overtime! *hiss!*
Fandom: Leverage
Rating: PG
Warnings: pre-slash, spoilers for 2x01, un-betaed
Summary: Wherein Sophie is ultra-observant
Disclaimer: *insert witticism of how author is not the awesome D. Devlin, how the author doesn't own Leverage, how poor the author actually is, etc, etc*
This might...just might turn into a series. I need a title... *thinky face*
“Oh…bugger,” Sophie exclaimed softly. All she wanted to do was talk to Nate; tell him that she had a boyfriend before things got too deep again. She loved him, had always loved him, and will always continue to love him, but a girl had needs. Although, she questioned the validity of tracking him down, scoring a role in The Sound of Music, and sending everyone (she had very…powerful contacts) an invitation. She had a boyfriend, and he was wonderful, charming, sweet--
Dammit. She looked down at Nate. No, her feelings hadn’t evaporated as she had hoped they would. They intensified. Heart still hammering from fighting off that knife-wielding wacko, she hooked her arms under his arms and began dragging him into his own condo. She turned to lock the door and almost tripped over the comatose man in her shock. “Eliot!” The man in question lounged comfortably near the doorframe. But, she could tell he was agitated by the rigidity of his arm muscles and the way he kept himself perfectly still. In all the time she had known him, Eliot was never still, aside from their cons.
“What happened?” She saw the tightening skin around his eyes. Oh yeah, he was worried and in full hitter mode. She had to snap him out of it…fast.
“Oh, it was nothing,” she breezed. “Someone was trying to kill Nate, but we fought ‘im off.”
“What did he look like?”
She did not like that rough, rabid dog growl. “Does it matter? He isn’t here. Help me put Nate on the couch.” She left to grab a blanket or something, trusting Eliot to get the job done by himself. She figured he deserved a play-by-play at least. “I planned to talk to Nate, y'know? Try to get the crew back together, and I see him struggling with this wackjob. So, I-“ She paused on the stair’s landing, looking between the curved bars. Eliot was perched on the couch’s arm, his fingers thisclose to Nate’s scalp. He looked up at her. A guilty, longing look flashed in his eyes before he ducked his head.
Her eyes widened and she almost dropped the blanket and pillow. How in the hell had she missed this?
“Toss me down the pillow and get me a bag of ice. There’s a nasty lump on his forehead. What in the hell happened anyway?” Sophie let the guilt wash over her, erasing Eliot’s somber look from her mind in the mean time.
“Yeah, about that…” she trailed off...
* * *
“If you want to do this…thing, you’re on your own,” Nate declared.
“Fine.” Eliot shrugged.
“Understood?” Agitated, Nate left the room in a huff, not caring about their answers.
Sophie flickered her eyes challengingly towards Eliot. “So, are you going?” Do you think this can work out? Are you man enough for him?
Eliot looked back at her. “I’m not going anywhere. Man has seven hundred sports channels,” he responded, nodding in homage to the flat screen. There’s nothing you can do to make me leave. Not now; not ever.
Sophie huffed, looking away for a moment but quickly turning her body towards him in an impish lean. “You wanna see what he has under his bed?” She had already received her answer, and she was ready to relinquish her claim on Nate, but there was one more test. Are you sure?
Eliot gave her a disgusted look. A man’s privacy was a man’s privacy, and you don’t go looking for it. Whatever was under Nate’s bed was between him and his god. “No I do not.” What are you playing at?
Her answering look was smug. “Icky.” He’s yours. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.
They both looked upstairs at the same time.
Fandom: Leverage
Rating: PG
Warnings: pre-slash, spoilers for 2x01, un-betaed
Summary: Wherein Sophie is ultra-observant
Disclaimer: *insert witticism of how author is not the awesome D. Devlin, how the author doesn't own Leverage, how poor the author actually is, etc, etc*
This might...just might turn into a series. I need a title... *thinky face*
“Oh…bugger,” Sophie exclaimed softly. All she wanted to do was talk to Nate; tell him that she had a boyfriend before things got too deep again. She loved him, had always loved him, and will always continue to love him, but a girl had needs. Although, she questioned the validity of tracking him down, scoring a role in The Sound of Music, and sending everyone (she had very…powerful contacts) an invitation. She had a boyfriend, and he was wonderful, charming, sweet--
Dammit. She looked down at Nate. No, her feelings hadn’t evaporated as she had hoped they would. They intensified. Heart still hammering from fighting off that knife-wielding wacko, she hooked her arms under his arms and began dragging him into his own condo. She turned to lock the door and almost tripped over the comatose man in her shock. “Eliot!” The man in question lounged comfortably near the doorframe. But, she could tell he was agitated by the rigidity of his arm muscles and the way he kept himself perfectly still. In all the time she had known him, Eliot was never still, aside from their cons.
“What happened?” She saw the tightening skin around his eyes. Oh yeah, he was worried and in full hitter mode. She had to snap him out of it…fast.
“Oh, it was nothing,” she breezed. “Someone was trying to kill Nate, but we fought ‘im off.”
“What did he look like?”
She did not like that rough, rabid dog growl. “Does it matter? He isn’t here. Help me put Nate on the couch.” She left to grab a blanket or something, trusting Eliot to get the job done by himself. She figured he deserved a play-by-play at least. “I planned to talk to Nate, y'know? Try to get the crew back together, and I see him struggling with this wackjob. So, I-“ She paused on the stair’s landing, looking between the curved bars. Eliot was perched on the couch’s arm, his fingers thisclose to Nate’s scalp. He looked up at her. A guilty, longing look flashed in his eyes before he ducked his head.
Her eyes widened and she almost dropped the blanket and pillow. How in the hell had she missed this?
“Toss me down the pillow and get me a bag of ice. There’s a nasty lump on his forehead. What in the hell happened anyway?” Sophie let the guilt wash over her, erasing Eliot’s somber look from her mind in the mean time.
“Yeah, about that…” she trailed off...
* * *
“If you want to do this…thing, you’re on your own,” Nate declared.
“Fine.” Eliot shrugged.
“Understood?” Agitated, Nate left the room in a huff, not caring about their answers.
Sophie flickered her eyes challengingly towards Eliot. “So, are you going?” Do you think this can work out? Are you man enough for him?
Eliot looked back at her. “I’m not going anywhere. Man has seven hundred sports channels,” he responded, nodding in homage to the flat screen. There’s nothing you can do to make me leave. Not now; not ever.
Sophie huffed, looking away for a moment but quickly turning her body towards him in an impish lean. “You wanna see what he has under his bed?” She had already received her answer, and she was ready to relinquish her claim on Nate, but there was one more test. Are you sure?
Eliot gave her a disgusted look. A man’s privacy was a man’s privacy, and you don’t go looking for it. Whatever was under Nate’s bed was between him and his god. “No I do not.” What are you playing at?
Her answering look was smug. “Icky.” He’s yours. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.
They both looked upstairs at the same time.