New Fic: strange, how we are changed (Leverage, OT3)
fandom: Leverage
pairing-thing: Parker/Alec/Eliot
rating: M for makeouts
words: ~2400
content notes: no standard notes apply. Contains mutual three-way stoned makeouts.
a/n: Written for the
kink_bingo prompt, "drugs/alcohol." Thanks to
eruthros for the beta and the support!
soundtrack: I heartily recommend listening to some Sam Cooke while reading this fic, as I did while writing it. Here are some songs to get you started: Since I Met You Baby and Almost In Your Arms.
summary: Eliot watches, fascinated, as Hardison brings the joint to his lips and inhales, making the lit end burn bright and cherry-red for several long seconds.
strange, how we are changed
Eliot watches, fascinated, as Hardison brings the joint to his lips and inhales, making the lit end burn bright and cherry-red for several long seconds. When he takes it away from his mouth, he leans his head back on the sofa and breathes in a little more before slowly exhaling. The smoke wreathes up around him.
Wordlessly, he passes it to Eliot.
"Nah, man," Eliot says. "I try to keep my mind and body pure."
Parker giggles.
"Trust me, it doesn't get any purer than this," Hardison says, arching an eyebrow at him.
Eliot rolls his eyes, and takes the joint from Hardison's hands, intending to pass it to Parker. But the way Hardison's slumped back into the cushions, his muscles relaxing, his eyes closing, is appealing in some distant, long-forgotten way. He hesitates.
Parker shuffles a little closer to him on the couch, touching his arm lightly. "There aren't any entrances or exits to this apartment other than the door and the two west-facing windows," she says, seriously. "I checked."
"And I got at least six independent security systems on each of those," Hardison adds, without opening his eyes. "It's safe, man."
Eliot thinks about it for a long minute. He hasn't done this in years. He hasn't even gotten drunk around other people since - too long ago to remember, really. But then he's putting the joint to his pursed lips and inhaling steadily, and it's just like he remembers: the taste of the smoke, the crinkling sound of the paper burning.
After he exhales, he licks his lips thoughtfully. "What is that, mint?"
Hardison opens his eyes and grins at him. "I took it from your garden. It adds flavour."
"Huh." He passes the joint to Parker.
"Are we sure we want to see what Parker's like on drugs?" Eliot asks. The old familiar sensations of lightness and bone-deep satisfaction are beginning to roll through his body already. It's strong stuff.
"I'm sitting right here," Parker says, as she puffs adorably away. "And I like drugs."
"Fine," Eliot says.
A few minutes later, Hardison is passing him the joint again.
"Hardison, I thought you had asthmatic tendencies."
"I choose to ignore them sometimes. And you can call me by my first name, you know. You're not my damn gym teacher."
Eliot laughs; he can't imagine what he would do if he were Hardison's gym teacher. Give up in frustration, probably.
"Alec, you would be a great gym teacher," Parker says seriously.
Hardison - Alec - laughs. It's a good sound, one that Eliot doesn't think he's heard before, deep and hearty and kind of snorty. "I'm not the gym teacher, Eliot is," he says.
"I'm just saying," Parker grins.
The joint goes around again, and how had Eliot never noticed how long and elegant Alec's fingers were? He holds the little stub to his lips with practiced ease, and it reminds Eliot of all the typing he does, reminds Eliot that he paints, that he picks locks faster than anyone on the team except Parker. He must have excellent manual dexterity.
"You must have excellent manual dexterity," he says, seriously.
Alec coughs, waves his hands around a bit. Eliot laughs. When he gets the joint, it's gone out.
"I don't think I can light this," he says, looking doubtfully at what's left of it. He feels slow, clumsy even. It's a refreshing feeling, somehow. He couldn't defend himself against even a really decent fighter, and it's nice to know that he doesn't have to.
"Here," Parker offers. She does it expertly, managing to not even burn her nose or catch her hair on fire, which is probably more than Eliot could've managed. Her cheeks hollow as she sucks air in, and her blonde eyelashes fall onto her cheeks, and Eliot wishes he had a snapshot of how she looks in that moment. She takes a puff and passes it back to Eliot, who finishes it.
A few minutes pass.
"It is way too quiet in here," Parker says. She doesn't sound any different than she normally does, which Eliot should've expected. Maybe she's stoned all the time.
"Yeah, what do you want? Video games, music, movies?" Alec jumps up and bounces a bit on the balls of his feet.
"Video games!" Parker says, as Eliot says, "Music."
"Movies it is," Alec grins.
As Alec does whatever he does on his laptop to make a movie show up on the big flatscreen tv, Eliot closes his eyes a little and lets himself feel. There's a deep sensation of physical pleasure rolling along his nerves, and it feels good to stretch his muscles, to breathe deeply, to move the big muscles in his thighs - tense, release, tense, release.
When he opens his eyes again, Alec is standing in front of the big tv and grinning at him.
"It takes you like that, huh?" he says.
"What?" Eliot asks, confused.
"You get a physical buzz," Alec explains. He half-throws himself back onto the couch beside them, his shoulder pressing warmly into Eliot's. That pressure feels unexpectedly good, too, like stretching, like breathing. "S'okay, I get that too."
The opening of the movie plays - a movie Eliot's seen before, one of the Indiana Joneses.
"I've seen this one," he protests.
"One day you will learn that rewatching is the greatest joy that films have to offer," Alec says seriously.
"I need a whip," Parker muses. Alec and Eliot both turn to look at her, and her smile is wicked, knowing in a way she normally isn't. "For work-related purposes," she assures them. Then she frowns. "Also, I need popcorn."
"On it," Alec says, getting up again.
*
"Okay, but presumably, right, the Nazis have plenty of resources, and eternal life should be pretty high on their priority list, so, so, so - "
"But, c'mon, it's gonna be hard to get tanks into, uh, wherever the hell in the desert they are, Eliot, this is the early thirties - they were still moving troops by train, and if you look at the distance from Germany - "
"I don't get why they don't just tunnel through the other side of the mountain. I mean, even mystical chambers containing Holy Grails probably have a back wall, right? And it's not like that old guy would even hear them coming. Get in while he's napping, clean out all the grails for good measure, out before he even notices." Parker nods to herself in satisfaction.
Eliot and Alec nod along with her. It makes perfect sense.
"Are there more cheese things?" Eliot asks.
*
Long after the movie's over and Alec's put on some music - taking pity on Eliot and playing some Sam Cooke - they smoke again, and this time it hits him differently, making him feel deeply content, glad and full inside. Or maybe that's not the weed, maybe it's the way that Parker spins him around in the kitchen, laughing, half-dancing, while "Since I Met You Baby" plays on the speakers, or maybe it's the way that Alec grins up at him backwards after he falls down and sprawls on the couch, his legs hooked over the arm and the top of his head pushed up against Eliot's thigh. Eliot doesn't know where to put his hand for a minute, then just lets it fall down onto Alec's shoulder. His t-shirt feels soft, and after a while Eliot realises that he's stroking it rhythmically, just to enjoy the texture with his fingertips.
"I love the way this feels," he says, pinching a piece of cotton between his thumb and forefinger. Parker comes back to the couch - from the bathroom, maybe - and flops down beside him.
"Yeah," she says, "I know what you mean." Eliot turns to look at her, and there's something different about her, something soft and relaxed around her eyes, her mouth. He smiles at her, helpless, and she smiles back, then throws her head back and laughs. From his other side, Alec starts laughing too, and Eliot gets caught up in the current of it until they're all collapsed into the cushions together, until he's sandwiched between Alec and the back of the couch with tears running down his face, with the pleasant pressure of Parker's head against his hip.
After a little while calm settles over them again. He wouldn't have expected it, but Alec smells really good. The skin of his bicep is warm against Eliot's face.
"Mmmm," Parker says, and shimmies up a little closer to him. She slides her hand behind him to rest her palm in the small of his back, and touches her other hand to Alec's head, her fingertips running against the short hairs there. Alec sighs deeply and pushes back into her hand.
Easily, and because he wants to, Eliot kisses Alec's arm, just below the sleeve of his t-shirt. He does it slowly, liking the taste of him almost as much as the smell, salty and strangely familiar. Parker's hand has slipped beneath his t-shirt, and just her fingers pressing against his skin suddenly seems like the most erotic thing he's ever felt: he can sense each shift of her fingers, the heat of her skin, every touch radiating out along his nerve pathways, throughout his body down to his toes, the tips of his hair.
Beside him, Alec rolls onto his side a little, turns his head and blinks at him upside-down. Eliot kisses his mouth this time, just for a minute, just softly.
"Be honest, Alec," Parker says, when they stop. "Did you get us high just to take advantage of us?"
"It's not that the thought hadn't crossed my mind," Alec grins at them, serious-slow-stoned. "But no, man, I just - " he sighs, suddenly sounding tired. "I thought we needed a break. I needed a break, maybe."
Eliot doesn't know what the name is for the feeling that swells up inside of him, so he just squeezes Alec's arm tight.
"Thanks," he says, after a minute. "Thanks, Alec."
Parker doesn't say anything, just crawls up Eliot's body, dropping a kiss on his forehead then leaning over Alec and kissing him, too, upside-down like Eliot had. They're beautiful together, and Eliot just wishes that he weren't so tired, that he could keep his eyes open and watch them forever.
"This was a good idea," she says, lying back down on top of them, her legs on top of Eliot's, her head pillowed on Alec's shoulder. Eliot shuffles down the couch a little further and finds a soft spot on Alec's stomach where he can put his head.
"Really good idea," Eliot agrees, his eyes closed now.
"Hmmmm," Alec says. "Y'all are just lucky I don't mind being the pillow."
For the first time in years, Eliot falls asleep without double-checking the security, without facing the door, without putting on his boots so that he can leave in the middle of the night if he needs to. Parker checked the exits, he thinks, and Alec did the alarms: he stretches one more time, luxuriously, letting his body press sweetly against Alec's waist, Parker's thigh; then he slips slowly, deliciously, into unconsciousness.
*
He wakes up in the morning when the bed beneath him tries to escape.
"Hey," he mutters, not opening his eyes.
"C'mon, man, unless you really want to see what happens when you keep me from the bathroom," Alec whispers.
Eliot's eyes snap open and he sits up abruptly. He's just getting his bearings as Alec jumps up from under him and makes for the hall.
"What?" Parker says, her head snapping up suddenly, blinking furiously.
"Hardison's in the bathroom," Eliot reports, wincing at the last name that slips out of his mouth.
Parker doesn't seem to notice, or doesn't give it away if she does. "Oh, I hope he's quick," is all she says, making a face. And before last night, Eliot would never have said that Parker was anything but impulsive, spontaneous, but now he can see the thread of tension that she carries around with her.
Impulsively, spontaneously, he squeezes her hand in his. She smiles, big and broad and generous.
Alec comes out of the bathroom. Parker jumps up immediately and makes it halfway across the room before spinning on her heel and running back, skidding across the wood floor in her socks, almost crashing into Eliot where he's sitting on the couch.
"Almost forgot," she says, and leans down to kiss him full on the mouth, deep and wet and then gone again, running for the bathroom. She all but crashes into Alec, and kisses him too, twining her arms around his neck like a glamour girl in an old movie, slipping him a flash of tongue.
Alec crashes down on the couch next to Eliot just as Parker slams the bathroom door behind her.
"So," Eliot says.
"Yup," Alec agrees.
They turn to look at each other at exactly the same time and then Eliot snickers and Alec laughs his big snorty laugh and when they lean in to kiss it's smile to smile, and Alec tastes fresh and minty, like a new day.
"You really did get us high to take advantage of us, didn't you," Eliot grins, as Parker comes back from the bathroom. She sits down half on Eliot's lap and half on Alec's, squirming down between them resting her head on Alec's shoulder.
"Something like that," Alec says, picking up Parker's hand and stroking her palm, tentatively, with one fingertip. "But since it didn't work and nobody put out, I guess I am just gonna have to bribe y'all with pancakes."
"At the diner on the corner?" Parker asks, perking up.
Alec nods. "Unless Eliot wants to cook, yeah."
"Diner it is," Eliot agrees.
Parker hooks an arm through each of their elbows, and they walk out together into the morning sunshine. When they get to the diner, Eliot keeps an eye on the doors and Parker keeps an eye on the windows while Alec, pulling out his cell phone, surreptitiously turns off the security cameras. They sit together in the back corner, and Eliot figures that, no matter what dangers breakfast might present, they'll have it covered.
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pairing-thing: Parker/Alec/Eliot
rating: M for makeouts
words: ~2400
content notes: no standard notes apply. Contains mutual three-way stoned makeouts.
a/n: Written for the
kink_bingo prompt, "drugs/alcohol." Thanks to
eruthros for the beta and the support!
soundtrack: I heartily recommend listening to some Sam Cooke while reading this fic, as I did while writing it. Here are some songs to get you started: Since I Met You Baby and Almost In Your Arms.
summary: Eliot watches, fascinated, as Hardison brings the joint to his lips and inhales, making the lit end burn bright and cherry-red for several long seconds.
strange, how we are changed
Eliot watches, fascinated, as Hardison brings the joint to his lips and inhales, making the lit end burn bright and cherry-red for several long seconds. When he takes it away from his mouth, he leans his head back on the sofa and breathes in a little more before slowly exhaling. The smoke wreathes up around him.
Wordlessly, he passes it to Eliot.
"Nah, man," Eliot says. "I try to keep my mind and body pure."
Parker giggles.
"Trust me, it doesn't get any purer than this," Hardison says, arching an eyebrow at him.
Eliot rolls his eyes, and takes the joint from Hardison's hands, intending to pass it to Parker. But the way Hardison's slumped back into the cushions, his muscles relaxing, his eyes closing, is appealing in some distant, long-forgotten way. He hesitates.
Parker shuffles a little closer to him on the couch, touching his arm lightly. "There aren't any entrances or exits to this apartment other than the door and the two west-facing windows," she says, seriously. "I checked."
"And I got at least six independent security systems on each of those," Hardison adds, without opening his eyes. "It's safe, man."
Eliot thinks about it for a long minute. He hasn't done this in years. He hasn't even gotten drunk around other people since - too long ago to remember, really. But then he's putting the joint to his pursed lips and inhaling steadily, and it's just like he remembers: the taste of the smoke, the crinkling sound of the paper burning.
After he exhales, he licks his lips thoughtfully. "What is that, mint?"
Hardison opens his eyes and grins at him. "I took it from your garden. It adds flavour."
"Huh." He passes the joint to Parker.
"Are we sure we want to see what Parker's like on drugs?" Eliot asks. The old familiar sensations of lightness and bone-deep satisfaction are beginning to roll through his body already. It's strong stuff.
"I'm sitting right here," Parker says, as she puffs adorably away. "And I like drugs."
"Fine," Eliot says.
A few minutes later, Hardison is passing him the joint again.
"Hardison, I thought you had asthmatic tendencies."
"I choose to ignore them sometimes. And you can call me by my first name, you know. You're not my damn gym teacher."
Eliot laughs; he can't imagine what he would do if he were Hardison's gym teacher. Give up in frustration, probably.
"Alec, you would be a great gym teacher," Parker says seriously.
Hardison - Alec - laughs. It's a good sound, one that Eliot doesn't think he's heard before, deep and hearty and kind of snorty. "I'm not the gym teacher, Eliot is," he says.
"I'm just saying," Parker grins.
The joint goes around again, and how had Eliot never noticed how long and elegant Alec's fingers were? He holds the little stub to his lips with practiced ease, and it reminds Eliot of all the typing he does, reminds Eliot that he paints, that he picks locks faster than anyone on the team except Parker. He must have excellent manual dexterity.
"You must have excellent manual dexterity," he says, seriously.
Alec coughs, waves his hands around a bit. Eliot laughs. When he gets the joint, it's gone out.
"I don't think I can light this," he says, looking doubtfully at what's left of it. He feels slow, clumsy even. It's a refreshing feeling, somehow. He couldn't defend himself against even a really decent fighter, and it's nice to know that he doesn't have to.
"Here," Parker offers. She does it expertly, managing to not even burn her nose or catch her hair on fire, which is probably more than Eliot could've managed. Her cheeks hollow as she sucks air in, and her blonde eyelashes fall onto her cheeks, and Eliot wishes he had a snapshot of how she looks in that moment. She takes a puff and passes it back to Eliot, who finishes it.
A few minutes pass.
"It is way too quiet in here," Parker says. She doesn't sound any different than she normally does, which Eliot should've expected. Maybe she's stoned all the time.
"Yeah, what do you want? Video games, music, movies?" Alec jumps up and bounces a bit on the balls of his feet.
"Video games!" Parker says, as Eliot says, "Music."
"Movies it is," Alec grins.
As Alec does whatever he does on his laptop to make a movie show up on the big flatscreen tv, Eliot closes his eyes a little and lets himself feel. There's a deep sensation of physical pleasure rolling along his nerves, and it feels good to stretch his muscles, to breathe deeply, to move the big muscles in his thighs - tense, release, tense, release.
When he opens his eyes again, Alec is standing in front of the big tv and grinning at him.
"It takes you like that, huh?" he says.
"What?" Eliot asks, confused.
"You get a physical buzz," Alec explains. He half-throws himself back onto the couch beside them, his shoulder pressing warmly into Eliot's. That pressure feels unexpectedly good, too, like stretching, like breathing. "S'okay, I get that too."
The opening of the movie plays - a movie Eliot's seen before, one of the Indiana Joneses.
"I've seen this one," he protests.
"One day you will learn that rewatching is the greatest joy that films have to offer," Alec says seriously.
"I need a whip," Parker muses. Alec and Eliot both turn to look at her, and her smile is wicked, knowing in a way she normally isn't. "For work-related purposes," she assures them. Then she frowns. "Also, I need popcorn."
"On it," Alec says, getting up again.
*
"Okay, but presumably, right, the Nazis have plenty of resources, and eternal life should be pretty high on their priority list, so, so, so - "
"But, c'mon, it's gonna be hard to get tanks into, uh, wherever the hell in the desert they are, Eliot, this is the early thirties - they were still moving troops by train, and if you look at the distance from Germany - "
"I don't get why they don't just tunnel through the other side of the mountain. I mean, even mystical chambers containing Holy Grails probably have a back wall, right? And it's not like that old guy would even hear them coming. Get in while he's napping, clean out all the grails for good measure, out before he even notices." Parker nods to herself in satisfaction.
Eliot and Alec nod along with her. It makes perfect sense.
"Are there more cheese things?" Eliot asks.
*
Long after the movie's over and Alec's put on some music - taking pity on Eliot and playing some Sam Cooke - they smoke again, and this time it hits him differently, making him feel deeply content, glad and full inside. Or maybe that's not the weed, maybe it's the way that Parker spins him around in the kitchen, laughing, half-dancing, while "Since I Met You Baby" plays on the speakers, or maybe it's the way that Alec grins up at him backwards after he falls down and sprawls on the couch, his legs hooked over the arm and the top of his head pushed up against Eliot's thigh. Eliot doesn't know where to put his hand for a minute, then just lets it fall down onto Alec's shoulder. His t-shirt feels soft, and after a while Eliot realises that he's stroking it rhythmically, just to enjoy the texture with his fingertips.
"I love the way this feels," he says, pinching a piece of cotton between his thumb and forefinger. Parker comes back to the couch - from the bathroom, maybe - and flops down beside him.
"Yeah," she says, "I know what you mean." Eliot turns to look at her, and there's something different about her, something soft and relaxed around her eyes, her mouth. He smiles at her, helpless, and she smiles back, then throws her head back and laughs. From his other side, Alec starts laughing too, and Eliot gets caught up in the current of it until they're all collapsed into the cushions together, until he's sandwiched between Alec and the back of the couch with tears running down his face, with the pleasant pressure of Parker's head against his hip.
After a little while calm settles over them again. He wouldn't have expected it, but Alec smells really good. The skin of his bicep is warm against Eliot's face.
"Mmmm," Parker says, and shimmies up a little closer to him. She slides her hand behind him to rest her palm in the small of his back, and touches her other hand to Alec's head, her fingertips running against the short hairs there. Alec sighs deeply and pushes back into her hand.
Easily, and because he wants to, Eliot kisses Alec's arm, just below the sleeve of his t-shirt. He does it slowly, liking the taste of him almost as much as the smell, salty and strangely familiar. Parker's hand has slipped beneath his t-shirt, and just her fingers pressing against his skin suddenly seems like the most erotic thing he's ever felt: he can sense each shift of her fingers, the heat of her skin, every touch radiating out along his nerve pathways, throughout his body down to his toes, the tips of his hair.
Beside him, Alec rolls onto his side a little, turns his head and blinks at him upside-down. Eliot kisses his mouth this time, just for a minute, just softly.
"Be honest, Alec," Parker says, when they stop. "Did you get us high just to take advantage of us?"
"It's not that the thought hadn't crossed my mind," Alec grins at them, serious-slow-stoned. "But no, man, I just - " he sighs, suddenly sounding tired. "I thought we needed a break. I needed a break, maybe."
Eliot doesn't know what the name is for the feeling that swells up inside of him, so he just squeezes Alec's arm tight.
"Thanks," he says, after a minute. "Thanks, Alec."
Parker doesn't say anything, just crawls up Eliot's body, dropping a kiss on his forehead then leaning over Alec and kissing him, too, upside-down like Eliot had. They're beautiful together, and Eliot just wishes that he weren't so tired, that he could keep his eyes open and watch them forever.
"This was a good idea," she says, lying back down on top of them, her legs on top of Eliot's, her head pillowed on Alec's shoulder. Eliot shuffles down the couch a little further and finds a soft spot on Alec's stomach where he can put his head.
"Really good idea," Eliot agrees, his eyes closed now.
"Hmmmm," Alec says. "Y'all are just lucky I don't mind being the pillow."
For the first time in years, Eliot falls asleep without double-checking the security, without facing the door, without putting on his boots so that he can leave in the middle of the night if he needs to. Parker checked the exits, he thinks, and Alec did the alarms: he stretches one more time, luxuriously, letting his body press sweetly against Alec's waist, Parker's thigh; then he slips slowly, deliciously, into unconsciousness.
*
He wakes up in the morning when the bed beneath him tries to escape.
"Hey," he mutters, not opening his eyes.
"C'mon, man, unless you really want to see what happens when you keep me from the bathroom," Alec whispers.
Eliot's eyes snap open and he sits up abruptly. He's just getting his bearings as Alec jumps up from under him and makes for the hall.
"What?" Parker says, her head snapping up suddenly, blinking furiously.
"Hardison's in the bathroom," Eliot reports, wincing at the last name that slips out of his mouth.
Parker doesn't seem to notice, or doesn't give it away if she does. "Oh, I hope he's quick," is all she says, making a face. And before last night, Eliot would never have said that Parker was anything but impulsive, spontaneous, but now he can see the thread of tension that she carries around with her.
Impulsively, spontaneously, he squeezes her hand in his. She smiles, big and broad and generous.
Alec comes out of the bathroom. Parker jumps up immediately and makes it halfway across the room before spinning on her heel and running back, skidding across the wood floor in her socks, almost crashing into Eliot where he's sitting on the couch.
"Almost forgot," she says, and leans down to kiss him full on the mouth, deep and wet and then gone again, running for the bathroom. She all but crashes into Alec, and kisses him too, twining her arms around his neck like a glamour girl in an old movie, slipping him a flash of tongue.
Alec crashes down on the couch next to Eliot just as Parker slams the bathroom door behind her.
"So," Eliot says.
"Yup," Alec agrees.
They turn to look at each other at exactly the same time and then Eliot snickers and Alec laughs his big snorty laugh and when they lean in to kiss it's smile to smile, and Alec tastes fresh and minty, like a new day.
"You really did get us high to take advantage of us, didn't you," Eliot grins, as Parker comes back from the bathroom. She sits down half on Eliot's lap and half on Alec's, squirming down between them resting her head on Alec's shoulder.
"Something like that," Alec says, picking up Parker's hand and stroking her palm, tentatively, with one fingertip. "But since it didn't work and nobody put out, I guess I am just gonna have to bribe y'all with pancakes."
"At the diner on the corner?" Parker asks, perking up.
Alec nods. "Unless Eliot wants to cook, yeah."
"Diner it is," Eliot agrees.
Parker hooks an arm through each of their elbows, and they walk out together into the morning sunshine. When they get to the diner, Eliot keeps an eye on the doors and Parker keeps an eye on the windows while Alec, pulling out his cell phone, surreptitiously turns off the security cameras. They sit together in the back corner, and Eliot figures that, no matter what dangers breakfast might present, they'll have it covered.
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