fic: Leverage/Justified: Sunwarmed (1/1)
Title: Sunwarmed
Author: Havenward
Fandom: Leverage/Justified (pre-series for both)
Pairing: inferences toward Raylan/Eliot
Rating: PG13
Words: 311
Note: Originally an answer to a prompt at comment_fic, I figured I'd put it up here since some of you wanted to see some of their backstory. I'm thinking canon time lines should line up well enough (for now) for this to work...
They'd met before, of course, though Raylan never had more cause to take notice of him than eyes a bright enough blue to put the sky to shame (and perhaps in his private moments he'd concede the man had lips that'd tempt even the most chaste to sin). He isn't sure he knew that Eliot Spencer was working for Willie Martin on his little stretch of ranch, but the horses suit him, more than the mines would have, albeit less than... well. Whatever it is that always takes Eliot out of town.
Raylan's a mite suspicious he doesn't want to think too long on that subject.
He tips his hat back a bit and watches the man ride, cradled in the sun kissed leather saddle, too-long hair taken entirely by the wind. The smile on Eliot's face is almost enough to make even Raylan feel poetical, not that he'd admit it. Certainly not when Eliot slows, eyes dancing with unvoiced laughter as the horse dances just shy of the fence.
"Raylan," Eliot says by way of greeting. Raylan can't help his smile, and he already feels it in his bones that he's shit deep in trouble. "What brings you--"
"Eliot!" Aimee calls from behind them, hauling feed and looking just about radiant in the process.
If Raylan's mood dimmed at all, he prayed no one was the wiser. He pulls his jacket aside just enough to show his badge. "Business, unfortunately. If y'could just point me to Willie I'll get out've the way."
Eliot looks at him for a moment before sticking a thumb over his shoulder. "Last I saw he was headed to the kitchen for sweet tea."
"My thanks. Eliot. Miss Martin." Raylan tugs on his hat politely and heads to the main house, strolling like he'd stroll anywhere else and absolutely ignoring the fizz of disappointment that suddenly seems to make the day feel muggy.
Author: Havenward
Fandom: Leverage/Justified (pre-series for both)
Pairing: inferences toward Raylan/Eliot
Rating: PG13
Words: 311
Note: Originally an answer to a prompt at comment_fic, I figured I'd put it up here since some of you wanted to see some of their backstory. I'm thinking canon time lines should line up well enough (for now) for this to work...
They'd met before, of course, though Raylan never had more cause to take notice of him than eyes a bright enough blue to put the sky to shame (and perhaps in his private moments he'd concede the man had lips that'd tempt even the most chaste to sin). He isn't sure he knew that Eliot Spencer was working for Willie Martin on his little stretch of ranch, but the horses suit him, more than the mines would have, albeit less than... well. Whatever it is that always takes Eliot out of town.
Raylan's a mite suspicious he doesn't want to think too long on that subject.
He tips his hat back a bit and watches the man ride, cradled in the sun kissed leather saddle, too-long hair taken entirely by the wind. The smile on Eliot's face is almost enough to make even Raylan feel poetical, not that he'd admit it. Certainly not when Eliot slows, eyes dancing with unvoiced laughter as the horse dances just shy of the fence.
"Raylan," Eliot says by way of greeting. Raylan can't help his smile, and he already feels it in his bones that he's shit deep in trouble. "What brings you--"
"Eliot!" Aimee calls from behind them, hauling feed and looking just about radiant in the process.
If Raylan's mood dimmed at all, he prayed no one was the wiser. He pulls his jacket aside just enough to show his badge. "Business, unfortunately. If y'could just point me to Willie I'll get out've the way."
Eliot looks at him for a moment before sticking a thumb over his shoulder. "Last I saw he was headed to the kitchen for sweet tea."
"My thanks. Eliot. Miss Martin." Raylan tugs on his hat politely and heads to the main house, strolling like he'd stroll anywhere else and absolutely ignoring the fizz of disappointment that suddenly seems to make the day feel muggy.