Man I Used to Be: Epilogue
Title: Man I Used to Be
Rating: R
Spoilers: Up through 2x07, minor spoilers through rest of season 2.
Pairing: Alec Hardison/ Eliot Spencer
Genre: Drama
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue, don't take this too seriously.
Summary: The present's a mess, and the past isn't helping.
A/N: Whew! It's finally finished! Hope you enjoy, and thanks for reading!
Banner by the wonderful and amazing and brilliant cybel
Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19
3 DAYS LATER
Eliot had called to tell him he was running late, so Alec wasn't expecting to find him when he entered the bar. He also wasn't ready for Ron's third degree.
"Hey, jerk." Ron grabbed him by the arms and shoved him into the booth, before sitting himself down next to Lee. "What the hell was that, the other week? That was the coldest stand-up I've ever seen, even from you."
"Relax, man, it's cool. Something came up."
"So where you been?"
"You know how it is. Around." He kept his hands below the table. The scabs on his knuckles were mostly healed, now, but they didn't need advertising. "And I didn't stand him up, Eliot's meeting me here in a bit." He twisted over his shoulder to see a table opening up over by the windows, but Lee must have seen him considering them, because he nudged Ron, who moved around the table, sliding in next to Alec, pinning him in.
"Well, you don't mind, we're going to keep an eye on you until he does," he waved for the waiter, asking for their tab, while Lee frowned, puzzled. "So what the hell, man. You gonna tell us anything?"
"Wasn't planning on it, no," Alec hurried to change the subject. "How've you guys been?"
"Oh, you know. The usual. Nothing strange at all. Not like some people who disappear without a trace and show up like Elvis, out of the blue, like nothing's going on."
"Elvis? Seriously?"
"What d'you got against Elvis?" Eliot chuckled behind him, but Alec was glaring at Ron, now, who was grinning shamelessly. "You done babysitting now? 'Cause we don't need no chaperone."
"Don't give him any ideas," Lee grinned, sliding out of the booth, waving at Ron. "We've got to get going, anyway. Come on."
Alec followed Ron out of the booth. "Where you guys off to?"
"James' going away party," Lee frowned. "Didn't you hear about it?"
"He's still in town?" It was surprising to hear, actually. He'd expected James to be long gone, but he hadn’t started looking. He was still a few weeks out from knowing what to do about him when he caught his trail.
"Ah, so you knew that he got the job?"
"Where's that?" Eliot asked, following Alec's lead. "What's he doin'?"
"Miami," Ron frowned. "I, ah. Don't know. Actually…"
"Figured he's going to tell us tonight," Lee trailed off, eyes darting warily in Eliot's direction before landing on Alec. "Actually, ah. We kind of figured he was going to announce that you two were eloping, after you guys disappeared together."
Alec was dumbstruck, but from the looks of it, Eliot wasn't doing much better, though he hadn't been derailed. "Don't think so."
"Ah. Right. Yeah, of course," Ron shrugged. "Well, whatever it is, we'll find out in a bit. We should probably get heading over there."
"Right on, right on." Alec smiled, though he didn't want to. "See you guys around, man."
Ron and Lee left, and the seats by the windows were looking a lot less inviting, so Alec followed Eliot to the back, instead, mentally kicking himself before he'd even sat down. This had seemed like such a good idea two hours ago, but Eliot was on edge, again. Angry.
"Yo, man. You alright?"
"Fine," Eliot said, ordering a pitcher with two glasses when the waiter came. He smirked, though, once he was gone. "Ain't no rest for the wicked, man. How you want to play this?"
"Play what?" Alec asked, habitual contrariness rearing its head. "Don't even know what to do with him when I find him."
---
"I've got a few ideas," Eliot replied, realizing how grim he'd sounded when Alec's face registered the threat. Fuck it. "Soon as they get over there, they're going to be talking to him. He's gonna know that you're back, and he's going to bolt."
"Somewhere other than Miami?"
"Don't know. He know what you can do?"
"Everyone here thinks I'm a freelance programmer. Only way he'd know more is if someone told him."
"Which could be a possibility. We’re gonna have to catch him before he blows town."
"And then what? Pulverize him?" Hardison scowled, not liking the idea, or at least not wanting to like it.
"Works for me." Eliot nodded, but maybe there was something more to Hardison's disagreement. Least you didn't suggest killing the bastard, he told himself. Hardison's fingers were twitching over his shirt pocket, but Eliot already knew why, so he asked, "You got your phone on you?" He was proven right, as the phone was produced, and already fingers were flying.
The waiter came back with the beers, and by the time Eliot had them poured, Hardison had found what he wanted. "He's got movers coming in, day after tomorrow, and he's flying out that night." He was still intent on his phone, but Eliot could see the gears turning. Whatever hang-ups he'd had over this were gone, now, and the predatory grin that spread over his face was really something. And it was a hell of a lot more when Hardison's eyes actually met his. "We've got time. How do we get him?"
---
Over the course of one-and-a-half pitchers, with Eliot sitting next to him in the booth, he'd managed to change James' tickets to an earlier flight, cause enough chaos in last year's taxes that an auditor was probably already on route, and add four warrants in three states to his record. It had been Eliot's idea to re-route the movers to Miami, Oklahoma, though, but Alec could have gotten there eventually.
In three days, the time-delayed transfer of James' accounts would go down, an amount large enough to catch the eye of several law enforcement agencies monitoring the affairs of the recipient, a known Bolivian drug trafficker who had no idea what was about to hit him. And from two separate companies, he'd ordered singing telegrams to wake him up at five thirty in the morning for the next two days, which was just as well, since his power was about to be shut off.
Eliot's laughter was trailing off into a cough, finally, his eyes still crinkled at the edges and his face a little flushed, which set Alec back to thinking about the other conditions under which the same result could be observed, but instead of pointing it out, he kissed his phone.
"Age of the geek, baby," he decreed, before sliding it back into his pocket, but Eliot's sarcastic retort never arrived. Swiveling his head to look at him, though, there was no cause to worry.
Eliot was looking at him like he was Superman, at least until he got caught. Then he just leaned sideways, like he had something to say, waving Alec a little bit closer, catching his jaw and kissing him soft on the lips. Right there in public. If public meant the back corner booth in a dimly lit bar at one in the morning on a Tuesday.
It wasn't how Alec had seen the night going, but it was still seven sorts of awesome.
---
---
2 WEEKS LATER
It was still early, by most people's standards, but Hardison was waiting in the driveway when Eliot got back from physical therapy, headphones cable trailing up from the pocket of his green hooded sweatshirt. More importantly, he'd remembered to bring coffee. "How'd it go?"
"Torturous, boring, but good. If I keep up at this rate, I'll be back to full form in six months," he lied, shaving a few off the top. Tossing his keys on the table inside, he rotated his arm in the socket. Already it was feeling stiff. "No more of this backup shit."
"Six months? That's not so bad," Hardison shoved him into a chair, and when he said it like that, Eliot kind of started believing it. The warm hands working his neck and shoulders might have helped. A bit.
---
"…Human remains, identified as the missing Dr. Edward Hastings, have been recovered from a New Jersey landfill. The medical examiner's office ruled his death a suicide, though the man's disappearance had been puzzling police for some time. Dr. Hastings was last seen just over two weeks ago, at a ceremony where he was awarded an award of several million dollars, to be used in the reconstruction of a hospital in Kadwe, ten miles northeast of Dawei, in Myanmar. The case has garnered some international attention, as audits of Dr. Hastings' overseas accounts in the wake of his disappearance have uncovered several connections to organized crime, graft, and corruption. Even so, there have been no leads as to what occurred the night of his disappearance, and investigators remain puzzled…"
Another day or so, and it dropped out of the papers entirely. Even with Alec's continued monitoring of the situation, and his repeated assurances, it was a week before Eliot sat still for more than two minutes at a time.
And he'd almost bolted, once. Saying it was for the best, for Alec's own good. It hadn't been a good night.
Now, though, the fight was a week old, nominally at least. Alec sat in the living room, keeping his eyes carefully on his screen, trying to figure out what was going on, what he was doing there. He'd said what he could, days before, and he'd decided not to let it bother him. Regardless.
Right now, though, it was probably more important that he keep his mouth shut, pretend he hadn't noticed Eliot hauling the suitcase up to his bedroom.
Upstairs, another drawer slid shut, and Eliot was coming down the stairs. He headed straight for the kitchen, and returned with a handful of takeout menus in one hand, two bottles of beer in the other.
It didn't feel like much of a peace offering, at least until Eliot joined him on the couch, closer than he'd been in a week, and asking, "They kick off yet?"
"Nah, man, they're still going over the pre-game," Alec scowled at the laptop screen. He really needed to talk Eliot into picking up a television one of these days. "You know where do you want to order from?"
---
1 MONTH LATER
"Eliot says hi," Nate ignored the impending nervous breakdown that was about to take place in his kitchen. Because Eliot had been right. Too damned right. Hardison had oversold the part. He'd been cocky. Annoying. So Eliot had given Parker a ride from the lab. And he'd been focused on the dressing-down he'd be giving Hardison on the way to the game that he'd left Hardison behind.
Let him get taken.
He hadn't been fucking thinking. Hardison hadn't been the only cocky one. And if it wasn't for the fact Nate, at least, had kept a level head, hadn't shoved his earpiece in his pocket, they'd still have no goddamn idea.
None at all. It wouldn't have happened if Eliot had been doing his goddamned job.
---
Without Eliot operating at one hundred percent, this entire job had come entirely too soon. Sophie couldn't have sprained her ankle at a worse time. It hadn't stopped Alec from jumping at the chance to go on the grift, though, but it probably should have.
And he definitely should have listened to Eliot when he'd told him, point blank, that he was playing the Ice Man too big. But it hadn't stuck. Maybe he'd become inured to Eliot's constant grumbling, these days. About being bored, about needing to get back into the game. About the host of stupid and minor things that filled his days.
Finally getting him out on a job had seemed like a solution, there, for a while.
Sometimes, Alec had to admit, faking another strike to Eliot's chest, trying not to do anything that would set his physical therapy course back, he's actually pissed for a good reason.
He was honestly a little surprised that Eliot didn't deck him, for real, just to prove the point.
---
"Det cord," was all Eliot felt like explaining until they'd gained a little ground from the blast site. Parker was up ahead, turning into the tunnel that led out towards where Nate was waiting, and Eliot found himself wishing, desperately, that they were off comms.
The instant Parker was around the corner, he stopped short and grabbed Hardison's arms, shoving him against the dirty wall. Surprised, Hardison made like he was about to speak, but a sharp shake of the head later, he was snapping his jaw shut.
Hardison was unnerved but uninjured. Even if Eliot's recovery timeline had been pushed back a little, they were fine. Would be, once they got out of here.
"Don't," was all Eliot could think to say, yanking him forward again, wrapping both arms around him, tight. Felt a little bit better when Hardison's arms crossed his back, returning the pressure.
It didn't stop him glaring, though, as he stepped back, or smacking him upside the head as they continued towards the opening.
---
---
"Got a question for you," Eliot asked one day, about two months into this. Thing. They had going on. Relationship. Whatever.
"Shoot." Hardison was tying equipment cords to the inside of the van with plastic cable ties. Soon as that was done, they were ready to load in and head over to the lot across the street from the bank.
Nate was crossing the parking lot towards them, and if he wanted to ask, he had to get it out. Now. "So, like. Should I start calling you Alec now, or what?"
"Huh?"
"You want me to start using your first name?"
"What?" Hardison scowled in amusement as he clipped the end off the tie and hopped out of the van. "Sure. If you want." He, too, noticed Nate's approach, but kept talking. "Whatever. I mean, everyone knows last names sound more badass than first names."
"My last name's Spencer, man, so your theory's blown right there," he rolled his eyes, wishing he'd never asked.
"It would be if your name wasn't Eliot." Hardison pulled a face, rolling his eyes like he couldn't believe nobody else, in the entire world, had figured this out. "Name like that, you should be drinking with your pinky out, or somethin'."
"Right, well," Nate coughed, pretending not to be amused at Eliot's glare. "If I'm not interrupting the tea party, you guys about ready to go?"
---
3 MONTHS LATER
Alec was scanning through the alerts on his computer, thinking absently that he really needed to clear out some of the old requests, when an article caught his eye. "Seems like they're moving on without Hastings," he said, scrolling down through the article. "After the audit, people went through and cleaned everything up. They're starting up the grant writing again. For real, this time."
"What do you mean?" Eliot looked up from his book, a little annoyed at the interruption.
"Got into Hastings' financials. Man was dirty as all hell. You know how many hospitals he could have bought, for what he spent chasing you?"
"No." Eliot turned pointedly back to his book.
He really doesn't want to be listenin' to all this, Alec realized, too late. "Well. One or two, if they were small. But still."
Eliot didn't look away, not exactly, but it was a close thing. "Wasn't like he didn't have reasons."
It wasn't a surprising response, not after all this time. Alec was almost getting used to having to argue the point. "That's as may be, but it was like he had bombs, hired thugs, and wanted to roll around in your guts. He was the bad guy, man. Not you."
"Thanks, but." Eliot rolled his head on his neck, a reluctantly curious look on his face. "You mind showing me what you got on him?"
"Sure thing," Alec copied everything into an email and sent it along. "Should be in your inbox any second," he switched screens, and went back to the files he'd pulled for Nate's next target.
Eliot crossed to pick up his laptop, and then he was quiet for the rest of the afternoon.
---
4 MONTHS LATER
Apollo came into town, and what was supposed to be a triple date in celebration of Dalton Rand's arrest became a hatchet job on a local dog-fighting ring instead.
Nate was on the phone calling out for late-night Chinese, while Parker was describing to Sophie and Apollo the two guys she'd taken down, demonstrating with overenthusiastic air-punches.
"Least we didn't have to dress for dinner," Alec reasoned, still sounding a little stoned, wincing as he tried and failed to catch the ice pack Eliot tossed him.
"Whatever, man," he grumbled, heading back to the fridge for one of the beers Apollo had brought.
If he'd gotten around Dulane's brothers sooner, if he could've just dropped one of them before they'd known he was there, Alec wouldn't have had to fend for himself. Wouldn't be sitting here in Nate's kitchen, smelling like hospital soap. Wouldn't have needed so many damned stitches.
"That's the last time Parker gets to choose the restaurant," Apollo muttered in irritation, reaching in around him to grab himself a bottle. "Fucking crazy-ass mutts."
---
5 MONTHS LATER
The banter in the car had become a full-blown shitstorm by the time they made it in the door. Far as Eliot could tell, Hardison had gotten offended somewhere in between discussion the last job and the next one, which, if he'd had his way, would entail taking the redeye out to Chicago to run game on the Gangster Disciples. Solo. Before Nate and Sophie even got back into town.
And his plan, to destabilize the entire power structure, was completely idiotic, but the kid wouldn't see reason, wouldn't even admit that it would most likely lead to an all-out war, and even more people would get hurt.
And Hardison was taking Eliot's disagreement way too personally, storming off into his bedroom and slamming the door behind him. For his part, Eliot paced from the living room to the front door and back again, repeating the circuit for a while as the rest of the argument played out in his head. His hand found his phone no less than five times, and twice he got as far as pulling up Nate's number, but the man needed the break. This could wait.
Twenty minutes or an hour later, and he'd cooled off enough to deal, his feet bringing him to the bedroom door. It wasn't locked, though, and that was probably all the invitation he could expect right now. Alec lay on the bed with his feet on the wall, headphones on and eyes closed, but he knew Eliot was there. He was just avoiding him.
It was damned irritating, so Eliot sat down on the bed next to him and yanked the headphones from the mp3 player. Alec's reaction was exactly what he'd expected.
"What the hell's your problem, man?" he launched himself up and grabbed at his ipod, momentarily forgetting to ignore Eliot.
"What the. What's my problem?" he shook his head in disbelief and transferred it to his other hand, out of reach. Such a goddamn kid sometimes. "Seriously, Hardison. My problem is. I fuckin' love you, alright? And I don't need you going off and getting killed doin' something stupid." Alec was about to complain, but Eliot didn't leave him the opening. "Nate will be back in three days. It'll keep. We'll get a real plan together and maybe nobody else will have to get caught up in it."
"Three days?" Alec sounded like he was actually considering it, now, so Eliot counted the win.
"Three and a half, you count in time for planning."
"Yeah," Alec eventually said, falling back down against the mattress and rubbing a hand over his face, squinting against the light. "Love you too, you know."
---
6 MONTHS LATER
Alec had been trying for an hour now, but he still hadn't been able to pick the lock Parker had set in front of him. She'd long since tired of watching him fail, and was watching Nate instead, flipping through cases in the living room.
"So Eliot. Seems the Trevor Hastings Memorial Hospital's capital campaign received an anonymous donation. Five million dollars," Sophie remarked as she set the table. Out of the corner of his eye, Alec watched Eliot rummaging through the cupboards, feigning disinterest. "Oh yeah? Huh. Hey Nate? You still got that sea salt I brought over?"
Nate mumbled distractedly, but Parker was close enough to translate. "Second cabinet from the left, middle shelf."
---
7 MONTHS LATER
Three days into the job, and Eliot still hadn't said anything. This time around, Alec knew better than to bring it up.
It had been Nate who'd clued him in, last week at the briefing, when he'd asked Eliot if he was sure he was up for the job. He'd said he'd been fine, and maybe he had been, but that was days ago, before the job did what it always did, veering off course to bring them to now.
Alec was monitoring comms from an unused office in the museum. If he went to the window, he'd be able to see Nate loitering by the gate, waiting for Sophie to arrive with the mark. Eliot, Alec knew, was watching from the other side of the reflecting pool, while Parker was downstairs, still getting herself into position.
He cursed to himself, wishing like hell that Sophie could have convinced the mark that the memorial for the Oklahoma City bombing wouldn't be the best place to meet up. Wishing that he had the first idea what to say to Eliot, when this was over.
---
He didn't have to say much, as it turned out. Once the mark was led off in handcuffs, and after Sophie promised that they'd handle the cleanup, Alec headed around to the field of empty chairs, memorials to the victims of the bombing. Eliot was standing towards the end of the second row, and didn't look up when he arrived.
"Never been here before," he admitted, staring in sad puzzlement at the chair that bore his father's name. "It's weird."
"Yeah," Alec agreed, reluctant to intrude further. There wasn't much he could say to that, either.
That night, though, as they sprawled drunkenly on the hotel bed, with the lights off and the curtains open to the city, he asked, and Eliot answered. With his head on Eliot's hip, he listened to stories about the bombing, the recovery attempts. Pressing, here and there, the stories turned to fathers and families, until they dwindled, sometime around dawn.
---
8 MONTHS LATER
Eliot had been given a clean bill of health, with the usual caveats regarding activities that would lead to re-injury. Like he hadn't been in eleven fights since getting back from New York. He'd just turned his charm on the nurse, probably unaware that he was doing it, promising he'd never do it again. And finally, they were out of there. Maybe it had been twelve, it wasn't like Alec was counting.
"You promised you'd call it in," Alec reminded him, leading the way out of the waiting room and shoving the glass doors open.
"She's not my mom," Eliot scowled, but dug out his phone and dialed. "Hey, Sophie…Yeah. Nah, just got done with the clinic. Yeah. They cleared me." He stopped short, hissing in offence. "No, they didn't give me a note. Like it freakin' matters. Been in seven fights already and I'm fine. Been fine."
Eventually, he ended the call, clearly blaming Alec for the entire conversation.
"Seven fights, huh?"
"Only counts if they get a shot in," Eliot explained, unlocking the car door, and Alec supposed he had a point. Didn't give him the satisfaction of agreeing, though. Eliot was acting smugly enough as it was.
"Wait," Eliot said, suddenly, right as Alec opened the passenger side.
Alright. If it's another damned car bomb, I'm gonna have to- "What, man?"
Eliot's attention was focused on the street, but there was no telling what had his hackles up. Usually it was nothing. The usual suspicion taking over.
Sometimes he did the same thing when Alec shut a kitchen cupboard too hard.
He thought about bringing it up, sometimes, but then he'd probably have to admit, out loud, to hearing timers counting down in the middle of the night, when it was too quiet. He'd woken Eliot up often enough, unable to sleep, and Eliot never said anything. Even trade.
"Eliot," he said, still standing with the car door half opened, wondering how anyone could space out that much with rush hour zipping by so close.
"Get in the car," Eliot ordered him without turning, breaking out into a gap in the traffic, running across the street.
This is new, Alec had the time to think, before slamming the door shut and rushing around to wait for another break in the now steady stream of cars.
Eliot was already across the street, and there was movement over on the corner, a shape dodging into an alley, a man in a black sweatshirt, hood up and pulled low, and this entire thing had become something else entirely.
Seriously?
Too many long seconds later, Alec was dodging a sedan, and he didn't stop until he slowed to turn into the alley.
Eliot's hair was flying around him as he dodged low, spinning to plant an elbow into the larger man's chest and following it with a left to the jaw, and a kick to the back of the knee. The man went down, and Alec was blindsided by the strength of his reaction. It was all sorts of wrong, but Eliot was stunning, flipping his hair out the way, alert and stalking like that. He wasn't preening, though. He looked ready to kill.
There was a surprised shout from the sidewalk, a woman in a long brown coat stepping quickly away, hands already going into her purse, digging for her phone, but Eliot wasn't stopping.
Eliot had to have heard it too, but he continued on, baring his teeth furiously as he reeled back to get another kick to the man's side as he tried to crawl away.
"Eliot!" Alec shouted, hurrying forward, unsure what he planned to do next, but stopping a murder before the cops arrived was figuring in, fairly heavily. "Hey!" But Eliot was grabbing the guy, now, shoving him over and following him down, pinning him, and finally going still.
Alec's approach was wary, though. "Yo, man, what the. We gotta-"
The man's hood had been pulled back, his hat knocked askew to reveal a mess of scraggly blonde hair.
"What the hell he asked, again, but this time, he glared down at Dog. "Eliot? Cops are on their way."
"Then we'd better make it quick." Eliot shoved down at Dog's throat before easing up. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"Looking," Dog coughed. "Looking for you. I'm putting a crew together."
Alec's mind reeled, and even Eliot's eyes flashed in confusion before narrowing again, but he remained silent, and didn't release him. Another few breaths and a wary glance up at Hardison, Dog went back to Eliot. "The Carlyle gig went south, but you kept your head, Spencer. Came looking to see if you wanted in on a flash job."
"Aw, hell, man. You kick him in the head or something?"
"Not yet," Eliot sneered, but he was backing off, slightly, waiting for the explanation as Dog slowly sat up.
"The Carlyle. That was nothing personal. Business is business, and it's over with, now."
Alec rolled his eyes, but at Eliot's warning, kept his mouth shut. Not personal my ass.
"You tellin' me you ain't looking for a little revenge over your lost payout?"
"The half up front was enough to eat the rest. Like I said. You got us out of there, figured I owed you one, so here we are."
Police sirens were growing closer, but it didn't seem to faze him, even if they had Alec's nerves jumping all over the damned place. "C'mon, man."
Eliot rocked back to stand, brushing at his jeans, decision apparently made. "We're walking out first. I see or hear about you bein' anywhere near my town or my crew again, I'll fucking kill you, you got it?"
Dog nodded, clambering to his feet, before stepping backwards, further into the alley, towards an open basement window.
"Hardison, move," Eliot instructed, shoving him towards the street, following with one eye behind him, and steering him in the general direction of the oncoming sirens. "They get a good look at us?"
"Don't know."
The squad car was turning onto their street, and Eliot grabbed his hand, setting an easy pace up the sidewalk towards it. The car was slowing to a stop, and Alec grabbed hold a little tighter. Eliot's response was to tug at him, a little bit, and kiss him, right there in front of the passing cars, pedestrians, police and everyone.
Alec was too surprised to kiss back, but Eliot didn't seem to mind, waggling his eyebrow as he pulled away. The police had already passed them by.
"Worked for you and Parker, didn't it?"
---
Pumped from the fight, Eliot was fucking beaming, the entire drive home. It bore up against the teasing bruise on the side of his face, and Alec had to stop looking at him if he wanted to get through the phone call to Nate with a straight face, himself.
He fared a little better at home, where he was finally able to kiss him properly, until they were both running low on clothes and breath.
But then Eliot was pinning him down on the bed, strong hands pressing his wrists down into the mattress, hair throwing his face into shadow but for a glint of teeth as he came down to slide roughly against hot skin, and Alec decided several things.
That watching Eliot fight had, somewhere along the line, become a massive turn-on.
That anything that got Eliot this hot and bothered was a good thing.
That maybe all Eliot's self-satisfaction had been worth it, though the word predatory could just as easily be applied.
And that if Eliot wanted to keep proving that he was fine, now, that he was better, then the best option was to let him do it.
Repeatedly.
---
9 MONTHS LATER
Eliot wasn't sure what it was that set him off, but he had plenty of options. The pride parade, the thought that Alec had suggested going, or the fact that he'd been visibly disappointed that Eliot hadn't wanted to, but hadn't fought him on it. The fact that he'd let it turn into such a big deal in the first place.
Waving the bartender down, he caught sight of the news on the television, up in the corner. Feathers and weird costumes, guys running around in their underwear, flags waving.
It wasn't his scene. Didn't mean he was, like, ashamed or anything.
Down at the edge of the bar, four rowdy college kids, from New Hampshire, if the Wildcats logos were anything to go by, were crowing at the television, and every other word out of their mouth was faggot or homo. It soon gave way to a serious discussion about how lesbians were hot, though, and after a while, they moved on to something else, but not before one or two of them glanced in his direction, grinning easily. Maybe they'd thought all the queers were at the parade.
Queer was a really fucking weird thing to call yourself.
He should have just fucking gone home, instead of pulling over in Quincy. There was beer in the fridge, and steaks in the freezer that needed defrosting, and needed it soon, if he was going to have them on the grill by the time Alec came over.
---
10 MONTHS LATER
Some nights there were explosions, and Eliot would wake up, fast and sudden and sweat-soaked, next to him. If he came back to bed at all, it was only after the room- whatever room, his, Alec's, or the hotel's- was secured. When he did eventually return to bed, though, he let Alec fuss over him some, let himself be reminded that he was back in his own skin, and wouldn't even complain.
Some nights there was only the countdown, and Alec didn't sleep at all, he'd just lie there, trying not to wake Eliot, trying to remain still. Eliot knew, though, he always did, and by about noon the next day, he'd shove a bowl of ramen onto Alec's desk while telling him exactly how unhealthy it was, or drag his ass out to crash with him in front of the TV.
The sounds were still there, they just didn't stick around like they used to.
---
11 MONTHS LATER
His suitcase was in the closet, and his keys were on the hall table downstairs. Most days, he didn't think about them, much, anymore. Just sometimes, sitting up on too-early mornings like this. Staring at the empty street for shadows and thinking too much.
About how much worse it would be next time. Nate had been talking about going after the mayor again last night, and it had been all Sophie could do to rein him in. It was a miracle they'd lasted this long.
"One show only," he'd said once, back when it had been easier to mean it.
Or how he'd broken every single rule he'd set up for himself, starting out. Did all the things that should've gotten him- gotten all of them killed. Got involved. Stayed too long. Told the truth. Trusted.
No encores.
By the end of the day he could be anywhere. A thousand miles away. The car was in the garage, waiting.
"What're you doin' up so early?"
And Alec was over on the bed, sheets rucked down low over his waist, squinting at the clock in distaste.
Thinking that I've outlived myself. "Nothing," Eliot waved the book he'd been ignoring for the past hour, but Alec's eyes had closed again.
"Wrong answer. You're supposed to say you're making the damn coffee." Alec mumbled, but he was already getting up. Detouring sleepily to press an uncoordinated kiss into the side of his head, he staggered towards the bathroom to turn the shower on.
Like it was nothing. Something to take for granted.
Like it just was.
It wasn't the sort of thing Eliot would talk about, but it sort of blew his mind, 'cause he sort of got it.
He hadn't outlived himself, but he'd lived it all down.
And over there, in the next room, was something he wanted to live up to.
---
12 MONTHS LATER
Playa del Carmen, maybe.
Wincing as he sat down again on the unforgiving floor of the van, Eliot finished packing up the last of the equipment, wondering where Alec wanted the boxes stowed. The entryway would do for now, though. They were on a timeline, as Nate was reminding them, once again.
"Hardison? Where are you at with the pictures?"
"The pictures? Oh, you mean my masterful forgeries of the great Orphist painter, Robert Delaunay, perfect to the last detail? That made me miss sleep for three days straight? Those pictures?" Alec snorted in exasperation. "Putting the last touches on now. Thirty minutes. Fifteen if you're careful, and I mean really damn careful."
Huatulco.
"I'll be careful," Eliot grumbled, again, dropping the last of the boxes and heading back towards Alec's studio. "Hey Nate? You know they won't hold up to anything past a cursory glance, right?" He frowned apologetically at Alec, because they looked dead-on, and he hadn't been lying about the lack of sleep, but the medium was all wrong, and he knew it.
"It doesn't need to, they just need to see it being loaded out of the van. Okay. Miss Reinbold has just arrived at the airport. Parker, how are we coming on the originals?"
From a ledge on the east side of town, Parker replied. "The real one is inside. I am outside. I could be inside making nice with my new friends, but someone won't stop Janousek from talking!"
Alec was finally rolling away from the easel, pressing his the heel of his hands into his eyes gingerly, mindful of the paint staining his hands. He didn't seem to notice the vivid wisp of half-dried blue on the back of his neck, but Eliot was having a hard time taking his away.
Petit St. Vincent?
Stepping up behind the chair, careful to avoid the paint, he wrapped his hands tight over Alec's collarbone, gripping tightly. After a moment, he could feel the muscles start to give, just a bit, beneath the thin stained shirt. When Alec rocked his head back to look up at him, he leaned down to catch at his mouth, but only for a second. No more, or he'd be sliding down to his knees again, spinning the chair around like he'd done early this morning, when he'd needed to distract Alec, get his overtired ass to bed.
When he'd just needed him.
Sophie giggled a little bit loudly as she suggested that perhaps the mark would like to continue the conversation at the bistro down the block. "He's getting his coat," Parker muttered, quietly, and that was their cue.
He drove his thumbs up alongside the top of his spine, pressing up towards his skull, and Alec's eyes closed in contentment before opening again. "Move your ass," Alec started to stand up, flicking his hands away tiredly. Move!"
"All right, all right," Eliot laughed, stepping back. That settled it. Soon as this job was done and they'd slept for a week, he was dragging Alec away from all of this. Paint was great, but water and sand and sun-heated skin would be a nice change of pace. Monte Cristi. "Help me load in?"
"What, I got to do everything around here?" Alec smirked, before launching himself out of the chair.
Manzanillo, definitely.
---
THE END.
Thanks so much for reading! You survived the ordeal, so go on over and collect your prize:
Hey look! It's ANOTHER soundtrack/ fanmixy thing!!!
It's a single-file .zip download, and here's the tracklisting:
Leverage PseudoSoundtrack
Nate
1 Alice Cooper- No More Mr. Nice Guy
2 Mighty Mighty Bosstones- The Impression That I Get
Sophie
3 Chris Issac- Baby Did A Bad Bad Thing
4 Shivaree- Goodnight Moon
Eliot
5 The Killers- All These Things That I've Done
6 Billy Idol- Don't Need a Gun
Alec
7 Thievery Corporation- The Numbers Game
8 Alien Ant Farm- Smooth Criminal
Parker
9 The Monkees- St. Matthew
10 Thin Lizzy- Jailnreak
Leverage Consulting and Associates
11 Cage The Elephant- Ain't No Rest For The Wicked
12 J. Ralph- Kansas City Shuffle
13 The Ordinary Boys- We've Got The Best Job Ever
14 Edguy- Superheroes
Rating: R
Spoilers: Up through 2x07, minor spoilers through rest of season 2.
Pairing: Alec Hardison/ Eliot Spencer
Genre: Drama
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue, don't take this too seriously.
Summary: The present's a mess, and the past isn't helping.
A/N: Whew! It's finally finished! Hope you enjoy, and thanks for reading!
Banner by the wonderful and amazing and brilliant cybel
Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19
3 DAYS LATER
Eliot had called to tell him he was running late, so Alec wasn't expecting to find him when he entered the bar. He also wasn't ready for Ron's third degree.
"Hey, jerk." Ron grabbed him by the arms and shoved him into the booth, before sitting himself down next to Lee. "What the hell was that, the other week? That was the coldest stand-up I've ever seen, even from you."
"Relax, man, it's cool. Something came up."
"So where you been?"
"You know how it is. Around." He kept his hands below the table. The scabs on his knuckles were mostly healed, now, but they didn't need advertising. "And I didn't stand him up, Eliot's meeting me here in a bit." He twisted over his shoulder to see a table opening up over by the windows, but Lee must have seen him considering them, because he nudged Ron, who moved around the table, sliding in next to Alec, pinning him in.
"Well, you don't mind, we're going to keep an eye on you until he does," he waved for the waiter, asking for their tab, while Lee frowned, puzzled. "So what the hell, man. You gonna tell us anything?"
"Wasn't planning on it, no," Alec hurried to change the subject. "How've you guys been?"
"Oh, you know. The usual. Nothing strange at all. Not like some people who disappear without a trace and show up like Elvis, out of the blue, like nothing's going on."
"Elvis? Seriously?"
"What d'you got against Elvis?" Eliot chuckled behind him, but Alec was glaring at Ron, now, who was grinning shamelessly. "You done babysitting now? 'Cause we don't need no chaperone."
"Don't give him any ideas," Lee grinned, sliding out of the booth, waving at Ron. "We've got to get going, anyway. Come on."
Alec followed Ron out of the booth. "Where you guys off to?"
"James' going away party," Lee frowned. "Didn't you hear about it?"
"He's still in town?" It was surprising to hear, actually. He'd expected James to be long gone, but he hadn’t started looking. He was still a few weeks out from knowing what to do about him when he caught his trail.
"Ah, so you knew that he got the job?"
"Where's that?" Eliot asked, following Alec's lead. "What's he doin'?"
"Miami," Ron frowned. "I, ah. Don't know. Actually…"
"Figured he's going to tell us tonight," Lee trailed off, eyes darting warily in Eliot's direction before landing on Alec. "Actually, ah. We kind of figured he was going to announce that you two were eloping, after you guys disappeared together."
Alec was dumbstruck, but from the looks of it, Eliot wasn't doing much better, though he hadn't been derailed. "Don't think so."
"Ah. Right. Yeah, of course," Ron shrugged. "Well, whatever it is, we'll find out in a bit. We should probably get heading over there."
"Right on, right on." Alec smiled, though he didn't want to. "See you guys around, man."
Ron and Lee left, and the seats by the windows were looking a lot less inviting, so Alec followed Eliot to the back, instead, mentally kicking himself before he'd even sat down. This had seemed like such a good idea two hours ago, but Eliot was on edge, again. Angry.
"Yo, man. You alright?"
"Fine," Eliot said, ordering a pitcher with two glasses when the waiter came. He smirked, though, once he was gone. "Ain't no rest for the wicked, man. How you want to play this?"
"Play what?" Alec asked, habitual contrariness rearing its head. "Don't even know what to do with him when I find him."
---
"I've got a few ideas," Eliot replied, realizing how grim he'd sounded when Alec's face registered the threat. Fuck it. "Soon as they get over there, they're going to be talking to him. He's gonna know that you're back, and he's going to bolt."
"Somewhere other than Miami?"
"Don't know. He know what you can do?"
"Everyone here thinks I'm a freelance programmer. Only way he'd know more is if someone told him."
"Which could be a possibility. We’re gonna have to catch him before he blows town."
"And then what? Pulverize him?" Hardison scowled, not liking the idea, or at least not wanting to like it.
"Works for me." Eliot nodded, but maybe there was something more to Hardison's disagreement. Least you didn't suggest killing the bastard, he told himself. Hardison's fingers were twitching over his shirt pocket, but Eliot already knew why, so he asked, "You got your phone on you?" He was proven right, as the phone was produced, and already fingers were flying.
The waiter came back with the beers, and by the time Eliot had them poured, Hardison had found what he wanted. "He's got movers coming in, day after tomorrow, and he's flying out that night." He was still intent on his phone, but Eliot could see the gears turning. Whatever hang-ups he'd had over this were gone, now, and the predatory grin that spread over his face was really something. And it was a hell of a lot more when Hardison's eyes actually met his. "We've got time. How do we get him?"
---
Over the course of one-and-a-half pitchers, with Eliot sitting next to him in the booth, he'd managed to change James' tickets to an earlier flight, cause enough chaos in last year's taxes that an auditor was probably already on route, and add four warrants in three states to his record. It had been Eliot's idea to re-route the movers to Miami, Oklahoma, though, but Alec could have gotten there eventually.
In three days, the time-delayed transfer of James' accounts would go down, an amount large enough to catch the eye of several law enforcement agencies monitoring the affairs of the recipient, a known Bolivian drug trafficker who had no idea what was about to hit him. And from two separate companies, he'd ordered singing telegrams to wake him up at five thirty in the morning for the next two days, which was just as well, since his power was about to be shut off.
Eliot's laughter was trailing off into a cough, finally, his eyes still crinkled at the edges and his face a little flushed, which set Alec back to thinking about the other conditions under which the same result could be observed, but instead of pointing it out, he kissed his phone.
"Age of the geek, baby," he decreed, before sliding it back into his pocket, but Eliot's sarcastic retort never arrived. Swiveling his head to look at him, though, there was no cause to worry.
Eliot was looking at him like he was Superman, at least until he got caught. Then he just leaned sideways, like he had something to say, waving Alec a little bit closer, catching his jaw and kissing him soft on the lips. Right there in public. If public meant the back corner booth in a dimly lit bar at one in the morning on a Tuesday.
It wasn't how Alec had seen the night going, but it was still seven sorts of awesome.
---
---
2 WEEKS LATER
It was still early, by most people's standards, but Hardison was waiting in the driveway when Eliot got back from physical therapy, headphones cable trailing up from the pocket of his green hooded sweatshirt. More importantly, he'd remembered to bring coffee. "How'd it go?"
"Torturous, boring, but good. If I keep up at this rate, I'll be back to full form in six months," he lied, shaving a few off the top. Tossing his keys on the table inside, he rotated his arm in the socket. Already it was feeling stiff. "No more of this backup shit."
"Six months? That's not so bad," Hardison shoved him into a chair, and when he said it like that, Eliot kind of started believing it. The warm hands working his neck and shoulders might have helped. A bit.
---
"…Human remains, identified as the missing Dr. Edward Hastings, have been recovered from a New Jersey landfill. The medical examiner's office ruled his death a suicide, though the man's disappearance had been puzzling police for some time. Dr. Hastings was last seen just over two weeks ago, at a ceremony where he was awarded an award of several million dollars, to be used in the reconstruction of a hospital in Kadwe, ten miles northeast of Dawei, in Myanmar. The case has garnered some international attention, as audits of Dr. Hastings' overseas accounts in the wake of his disappearance have uncovered several connections to organized crime, graft, and corruption. Even so, there have been no leads as to what occurred the night of his disappearance, and investigators remain puzzled…"
Another day or so, and it dropped out of the papers entirely. Even with Alec's continued monitoring of the situation, and his repeated assurances, it was a week before Eliot sat still for more than two minutes at a time.
And he'd almost bolted, once. Saying it was for the best, for Alec's own good. It hadn't been a good night.
Now, though, the fight was a week old, nominally at least. Alec sat in the living room, keeping his eyes carefully on his screen, trying to figure out what was going on, what he was doing there. He'd said what he could, days before, and he'd decided not to let it bother him. Regardless.
Right now, though, it was probably more important that he keep his mouth shut, pretend he hadn't noticed Eliot hauling the suitcase up to his bedroom.
Upstairs, another drawer slid shut, and Eliot was coming down the stairs. He headed straight for the kitchen, and returned with a handful of takeout menus in one hand, two bottles of beer in the other.
It didn't feel like much of a peace offering, at least until Eliot joined him on the couch, closer than he'd been in a week, and asking, "They kick off yet?"
"Nah, man, they're still going over the pre-game," Alec scowled at the laptop screen. He really needed to talk Eliot into picking up a television one of these days. "You know where do you want to order from?"
---
1 MONTH LATER
"Eliot says hi," Nate ignored the impending nervous breakdown that was about to take place in his kitchen. Because Eliot had been right. Too damned right. Hardison had oversold the part. He'd been cocky. Annoying. So Eliot had given Parker a ride from the lab. And he'd been focused on the dressing-down he'd be giving Hardison on the way to the game that he'd left Hardison behind.
Let him get taken.
He hadn't been fucking thinking. Hardison hadn't been the only cocky one. And if it wasn't for the fact Nate, at least, had kept a level head, hadn't shoved his earpiece in his pocket, they'd still have no goddamn idea.
None at all. It wouldn't have happened if Eliot had been doing his goddamned job.
---
Without Eliot operating at one hundred percent, this entire job had come entirely too soon. Sophie couldn't have sprained her ankle at a worse time. It hadn't stopped Alec from jumping at the chance to go on the grift, though, but it probably should have.
And he definitely should have listened to Eliot when he'd told him, point blank, that he was playing the Ice Man too big. But it hadn't stuck. Maybe he'd become inured to Eliot's constant grumbling, these days. About being bored, about needing to get back into the game. About the host of stupid and minor things that filled his days.
Finally getting him out on a job had seemed like a solution, there, for a while.
Sometimes, Alec had to admit, faking another strike to Eliot's chest, trying not to do anything that would set his physical therapy course back, he's actually pissed for a good reason.
He was honestly a little surprised that Eliot didn't deck him, for real, just to prove the point.
---
"Det cord," was all Eliot felt like explaining until they'd gained a little ground from the blast site. Parker was up ahead, turning into the tunnel that led out towards where Nate was waiting, and Eliot found himself wishing, desperately, that they were off comms.
The instant Parker was around the corner, he stopped short and grabbed Hardison's arms, shoving him against the dirty wall. Surprised, Hardison made like he was about to speak, but a sharp shake of the head later, he was snapping his jaw shut.
Hardison was unnerved but uninjured. Even if Eliot's recovery timeline had been pushed back a little, they were fine. Would be, once they got out of here.
"Don't," was all Eliot could think to say, yanking him forward again, wrapping both arms around him, tight. Felt a little bit better when Hardison's arms crossed his back, returning the pressure.
It didn't stop him glaring, though, as he stepped back, or smacking him upside the head as they continued towards the opening.
---
---
"Got a question for you," Eliot asked one day, about two months into this. Thing. They had going on. Relationship. Whatever.
"Shoot." Hardison was tying equipment cords to the inside of the van with plastic cable ties. Soon as that was done, they were ready to load in and head over to the lot across the street from the bank.
Nate was crossing the parking lot towards them, and if he wanted to ask, he had to get it out. Now. "So, like. Should I start calling you Alec now, or what?"
"Huh?"
"You want me to start using your first name?"
"What?" Hardison scowled in amusement as he clipped the end off the tie and hopped out of the van. "Sure. If you want." He, too, noticed Nate's approach, but kept talking. "Whatever. I mean, everyone knows last names sound more badass than first names."
"My last name's Spencer, man, so your theory's blown right there," he rolled his eyes, wishing he'd never asked.
"It would be if your name wasn't Eliot." Hardison pulled a face, rolling his eyes like he couldn't believe nobody else, in the entire world, had figured this out. "Name like that, you should be drinking with your pinky out, or somethin'."
"Right, well," Nate coughed, pretending not to be amused at Eliot's glare. "If I'm not interrupting the tea party, you guys about ready to go?"
---
3 MONTHS LATER
Alec was scanning through the alerts on his computer, thinking absently that he really needed to clear out some of the old requests, when an article caught his eye. "Seems like they're moving on without Hastings," he said, scrolling down through the article. "After the audit, people went through and cleaned everything up. They're starting up the grant writing again. For real, this time."
"What do you mean?" Eliot looked up from his book, a little annoyed at the interruption.
"Got into Hastings' financials. Man was dirty as all hell. You know how many hospitals he could have bought, for what he spent chasing you?"
"No." Eliot turned pointedly back to his book.
He really doesn't want to be listenin' to all this, Alec realized, too late. "Well. One or two, if they were small. But still."
Eliot didn't look away, not exactly, but it was a close thing. "Wasn't like he didn't have reasons."
It wasn't a surprising response, not after all this time. Alec was almost getting used to having to argue the point. "That's as may be, but it was like he had bombs, hired thugs, and wanted to roll around in your guts. He was the bad guy, man. Not you."
"Thanks, but." Eliot rolled his head on his neck, a reluctantly curious look on his face. "You mind showing me what you got on him?"
"Sure thing," Alec copied everything into an email and sent it along. "Should be in your inbox any second," he switched screens, and went back to the files he'd pulled for Nate's next target.
Eliot crossed to pick up his laptop, and then he was quiet for the rest of the afternoon.
---
4 MONTHS LATER
Apollo came into town, and what was supposed to be a triple date in celebration of Dalton Rand's arrest became a hatchet job on a local dog-fighting ring instead.
Nate was on the phone calling out for late-night Chinese, while Parker was describing to Sophie and Apollo the two guys she'd taken down, demonstrating with overenthusiastic air-punches.
"Least we didn't have to dress for dinner," Alec reasoned, still sounding a little stoned, wincing as he tried and failed to catch the ice pack Eliot tossed him.
"Whatever, man," he grumbled, heading back to the fridge for one of the beers Apollo had brought.
If he'd gotten around Dulane's brothers sooner, if he could've just dropped one of them before they'd known he was there, Alec wouldn't have had to fend for himself. Wouldn't be sitting here in Nate's kitchen, smelling like hospital soap. Wouldn't have needed so many damned stitches.
"That's the last time Parker gets to choose the restaurant," Apollo muttered in irritation, reaching in around him to grab himself a bottle. "Fucking crazy-ass mutts."
---
5 MONTHS LATER
The banter in the car had become a full-blown shitstorm by the time they made it in the door. Far as Eliot could tell, Hardison had gotten offended somewhere in between discussion the last job and the next one, which, if he'd had his way, would entail taking the redeye out to Chicago to run game on the Gangster Disciples. Solo. Before Nate and Sophie even got back into town.
And his plan, to destabilize the entire power structure, was completely idiotic, but the kid wouldn't see reason, wouldn't even admit that it would most likely lead to an all-out war, and even more people would get hurt.
And Hardison was taking Eliot's disagreement way too personally, storming off into his bedroom and slamming the door behind him. For his part, Eliot paced from the living room to the front door and back again, repeating the circuit for a while as the rest of the argument played out in his head. His hand found his phone no less than five times, and twice he got as far as pulling up Nate's number, but the man needed the break. This could wait.
Twenty minutes or an hour later, and he'd cooled off enough to deal, his feet bringing him to the bedroom door. It wasn't locked, though, and that was probably all the invitation he could expect right now. Alec lay on the bed with his feet on the wall, headphones on and eyes closed, but he knew Eliot was there. He was just avoiding him.
It was damned irritating, so Eliot sat down on the bed next to him and yanked the headphones from the mp3 player. Alec's reaction was exactly what he'd expected.
"What the hell's your problem, man?" he launched himself up and grabbed at his ipod, momentarily forgetting to ignore Eliot.
"What the. What's my problem?" he shook his head in disbelief and transferred it to his other hand, out of reach. Such a goddamn kid sometimes. "Seriously, Hardison. My problem is. I fuckin' love you, alright? And I don't need you going off and getting killed doin' something stupid." Alec was about to complain, but Eliot didn't leave him the opening. "Nate will be back in three days. It'll keep. We'll get a real plan together and maybe nobody else will have to get caught up in it."
"Three days?" Alec sounded like he was actually considering it, now, so Eliot counted the win.
"Three and a half, you count in time for planning."
"Yeah," Alec eventually said, falling back down against the mattress and rubbing a hand over his face, squinting against the light. "Love you too, you know."
---
6 MONTHS LATER
Alec had been trying for an hour now, but he still hadn't been able to pick the lock Parker had set in front of him. She'd long since tired of watching him fail, and was watching Nate instead, flipping through cases in the living room.
"So Eliot. Seems the Trevor Hastings Memorial Hospital's capital campaign received an anonymous donation. Five million dollars," Sophie remarked as she set the table. Out of the corner of his eye, Alec watched Eliot rummaging through the cupboards, feigning disinterest. "Oh yeah? Huh. Hey Nate? You still got that sea salt I brought over?"
Nate mumbled distractedly, but Parker was close enough to translate. "Second cabinet from the left, middle shelf."
---
7 MONTHS LATER
Three days into the job, and Eliot still hadn't said anything. This time around, Alec knew better than to bring it up.
It had been Nate who'd clued him in, last week at the briefing, when he'd asked Eliot if he was sure he was up for the job. He'd said he'd been fine, and maybe he had been, but that was days ago, before the job did what it always did, veering off course to bring them to now.
Alec was monitoring comms from an unused office in the museum. If he went to the window, he'd be able to see Nate loitering by the gate, waiting for Sophie to arrive with the mark. Eliot, Alec knew, was watching from the other side of the reflecting pool, while Parker was downstairs, still getting herself into position.
He cursed to himself, wishing like hell that Sophie could have convinced the mark that the memorial for the Oklahoma City bombing wouldn't be the best place to meet up. Wishing that he had the first idea what to say to Eliot, when this was over.
---
He didn't have to say much, as it turned out. Once the mark was led off in handcuffs, and after Sophie promised that they'd handle the cleanup, Alec headed around to the field of empty chairs, memorials to the victims of the bombing. Eliot was standing towards the end of the second row, and didn't look up when he arrived.
"Never been here before," he admitted, staring in sad puzzlement at the chair that bore his father's name. "It's weird."
"Yeah," Alec agreed, reluctant to intrude further. There wasn't much he could say to that, either.
That night, though, as they sprawled drunkenly on the hotel bed, with the lights off and the curtains open to the city, he asked, and Eliot answered. With his head on Eliot's hip, he listened to stories about the bombing, the recovery attempts. Pressing, here and there, the stories turned to fathers and families, until they dwindled, sometime around dawn.
---
8 MONTHS LATER
Eliot had been given a clean bill of health, with the usual caveats regarding activities that would lead to re-injury. Like he hadn't been in eleven fights since getting back from New York. He'd just turned his charm on the nurse, probably unaware that he was doing it, promising he'd never do it again. And finally, they were out of there. Maybe it had been twelve, it wasn't like Alec was counting.
"You promised you'd call it in," Alec reminded him, leading the way out of the waiting room and shoving the glass doors open.
"She's not my mom," Eliot scowled, but dug out his phone and dialed. "Hey, Sophie…Yeah. Nah, just got done with the clinic. Yeah. They cleared me." He stopped short, hissing in offence. "No, they didn't give me a note. Like it freakin' matters. Been in seven fights already and I'm fine. Been fine."
Eventually, he ended the call, clearly blaming Alec for the entire conversation.
"Seven fights, huh?"
"Only counts if they get a shot in," Eliot explained, unlocking the car door, and Alec supposed he had a point. Didn't give him the satisfaction of agreeing, though. Eliot was acting smugly enough as it was.
"Wait," Eliot said, suddenly, right as Alec opened the passenger side.
Alright. If it's another damned car bomb, I'm gonna have to- "What, man?"
Eliot's attention was focused on the street, but there was no telling what had his hackles up. Usually it was nothing. The usual suspicion taking over.
Sometimes he did the same thing when Alec shut a kitchen cupboard too hard.
He thought about bringing it up, sometimes, but then he'd probably have to admit, out loud, to hearing timers counting down in the middle of the night, when it was too quiet. He'd woken Eliot up often enough, unable to sleep, and Eliot never said anything. Even trade.
"Eliot," he said, still standing with the car door half opened, wondering how anyone could space out that much with rush hour zipping by so close.
"Get in the car," Eliot ordered him without turning, breaking out into a gap in the traffic, running across the street.
This is new, Alec had the time to think, before slamming the door shut and rushing around to wait for another break in the now steady stream of cars.
Eliot was already across the street, and there was movement over on the corner, a shape dodging into an alley, a man in a black sweatshirt, hood up and pulled low, and this entire thing had become something else entirely.
Seriously?
Too many long seconds later, Alec was dodging a sedan, and he didn't stop until he slowed to turn into the alley.
Eliot's hair was flying around him as he dodged low, spinning to plant an elbow into the larger man's chest and following it with a left to the jaw, and a kick to the back of the knee. The man went down, and Alec was blindsided by the strength of his reaction. It was all sorts of wrong, but Eliot was stunning, flipping his hair out the way, alert and stalking like that. He wasn't preening, though. He looked ready to kill.
There was a surprised shout from the sidewalk, a woman in a long brown coat stepping quickly away, hands already going into her purse, digging for her phone, but Eliot wasn't stopping.
Eliot had to have heard it too, but he continued on, baring his teeth furiously as he reeled back to get another kick to the man's side as he tried to crawl away.
"Eliot!" Alec shouted, hurrying forward, unsure what he planned to do next, but stopping a murder before the cops arrived was figuring in, fairly heavily. "Hey!" But Eliot was grabbing the guy, now, shoving him over and following him down, pinning him, and finally going still.
Alec's approach was wary, though. "Yo, man, what the. We gotta-"
The man's hood had been pulled back, his hat knocked askew to reveal a mess of scraggly blonde hair.
"What the hell he asked, again, but this time, he glared down at Dog. "Eliot? Cops are on their way."
"Then we'd better make it quick." Eliot shoved down at Dog's throat before easing up. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"Looking," Dog coughed. "Looking for you. I'm putting a crew together."
Alec's mind reeled, and even Eliot's eyes flashed in confusion before narrowing again, but he remained silent, and didn't release him. Another few breaths and a wary glance up at Hardison, Dog went back to Eliot. "The Carlyle gig went south, but you kept your head, Spencer. Came looking to see if you wanted in on a flash job."
"Aw, hell, man. You kick him in the head or something?"
"Not yet," Eliot sneered, but he was backing off, slightly, waiting for the explanation as Dog slowly sat up.
"The Carlyle. That was nothing personal. Business is business, and it's over with, now."
Alec rolled his eyes, but at Eliot's warning, kept his mouth shut. Not personal my ass.
"You tellin' me you ain't looking for a little revenge over your lost payout?"
"The half up front was enough to eat the rest. Like I said. You got us out of there, figured I owed you one, so here we are."
Police sirens were growing closer, but it didn't seem to faze him, even if they had Alec's nerves jumping all over the damned place. "C'mon, man."
Eliot rocked back to stand, brushing at his jeans, decision apparently made. "We're walking out first. I see or hear about you bein' anywhere near my town or my crew again, I'll fucking kill you, you got it?"
Dog nodded, clambering to his feet, before stepping backwards, further into the alley, towards an open basement window.
"Hardison, move," Eliot instructed, shoving him towards the street, following with one eye behind him, and steering him in the general direction of the oncoming sirens. "They get a good look at us?"
"Don't know."
The squad car was turning onto their street, and Eliot grabbed his hand, setting an easy pace up the sidewalk towards it. The car was slowing to a stop, and Alec grabbed hold a little tighter. Eliot's response was to tug at him, a little bit, and kiss him, right there in front of the passing cars, pedestrians, police and everyone.
Alec was too surprised to kiss back, but Eliot didn't seem to mind, waggling his eyebrow as he pulled away. The police had already passed them by.
"Worked for you and Parker, didn't it?"
---
Pumped from the fight, Eliot was fucking beaming, the entire drive home. It bore up against the teasing bruise on the side of his face, and Alec had to stop looking at him if he wanted to get through the phone call to Nate with a straight face, himself.
He fared a little better at home, where he was finally able to kiss him properly, until they were both running low on clothes and breath.
But then Eliot was pinning him down on the bed, strong hands pressing his wrists down into the mattress, hair throwing his face into shadow but for a glint of teeth as he came down to slide roughly against hot skin, and Alec decided several things.
That watching Eliot fight had, somewhere along the line, become a massive turn-on.
That anything that got Eliot this hot and bothered was a good thing.
That maybe all Eliot's self-satisfaction had been worth it, though the word predatory could just as easily be applied.
And that if Eliot wanted to keep proving that he was fine, now, that he was better, then the best option was to let him do it.
Repeatedly.
---
9 MONTHS LATER
Eliot wasn't sure what it was that set him off, but he had plenty of options. The pride parade, the thought that Alec had suggested going, or the fact that he'd been visibly disappointed that Eliot hadn't wanted to, but hadn't fought him on it. The fact that he'd let it turn into such a big deal in the first place.
Waving the bartender down, he caught sight of the news on the television, up in the corner. Feathers and weird costumes, guys running around in their underwear, flags waving.
It wasn't his scene. Didn't mean he was, like, ashamed or anything.
Down at the edge of the bar, four rowdy college kids, from New Hampshire, if the Wildcats logos were anything to go by, were crowing at the television, and every other word out of their mouth was faggot or homo. It soon gave way to a serious discussion about how lesbians were hot, though, and after a while, they moved on to something else, but not before one or two of them glanced in his direction, grinning easily. Maybe they'd thought all the queers were at the parade.
Queer was a really fucking weird thing to call yourself.
He should have just fucking gone home, instead of pulling over in Quincy. There was beer in the fridge, and steaks in the freezer that needed defrosting, and needed it soon, if he was going to have them on the grill by the time Alec came over.
---
10 MONTHS LATER
Some nights there were explosions, and Eliot would wake up, fast and sudden and sweat-soaked, next to him. If he came back to bed at all, it was only after the room- whatever room, his, Alec's, or the hotel's- was secured. When he did eventually return to bed, though, he let Alec fuss over him some, let himself be reminded that he was back in his own skin, and wouldn't even complain.
Some nights there was only the countdown, and Alec didn't sleep at all, he'd just lie there, trying not to wake Eliot, trying to remain still. Eliot knew, though, he always did, and by about noon the next day, he'd shove a bowl of ramen onto Alec's desk while telling him exactly how unhealthy it was, or drag his ass out to crash with him in front of the TV.
The sounds were still there, they just didn't stick around like they used to.
---
11 MONTHS LATER
His suitcase was in the closet, and his keys were on the hall table downstairs. Most days, he didn't think about them, much, anymore. Just sometimes, sitting up on too-early mornings like this. Staring at the empty street for shadows and thinking too much.
About how much worse it would be next time. Nate had been talking about going after the mayor again last night, and it had been all Sophie could do to rein him in. It was a miracle they'd lasted this long.
"One show only," he'd said once, back when it had been easier to mean it.
Or how he'd broken every single rule he'd set up for himself, starting out. Did all the things that should've gotten him- gotten all of them killed. Got involved. Stayed too long. Told the truth. Trusted.
No encores.
By the end of the day he could be anywhere. A thousand miles away. The car was in the garage, waiting.
"What're you doin' up so early?"
And Alec was over on the bed, sheets rucked down low over his waist, squinting at the clock in distaste.
Thinking that I've outlived myself. "Nothing," Eliot waved the book he'd been ignoring for the past hour, but Alec's eyes had closed again.
"Wrong answer. You're supposed to say you're making the damn coffee." Alec mumbled, but he was already getting up. Detouring sleepily to press an uncoordinated kiss into the side of his head, he staggered towards the bathroom to turn the shower on.
Like it was nothing. Something to take for granted.
Like it just was.
It wasn't the sort of thing Eliot would talk about, but it sort of blew his mind, 'cause he sort of got it.
He hadn't outlived himself, but he'd lived it all down.
And over there, in the next room, was something he wanted to live up to.
---
12 MONTHS LATER
Playa del Carmen, maybe.
Wincing as he sat down again on the unforgiving floor of the van, Eliot finished packing up the last of the equipment, wondering where Alec wanted the boxes stowed. The entryway would do for now, though. They were on a timeline, as Nate was reminding them, once again.
"Hardison? Where are you at with the pictures?"
"The pictures? Oh, you mean my masterful forgeries of the great Orphist painter, Robert Delaunay, perfect to the last detail? That made me miss sleep for three days straight? Those pictures?" Alec snorted in exasperation. "Putting the last touches on now. Thirty minutes. Fifteen if you're careful, and I mean really damn careful."
Huatulco.
"I'll be careful," Eliot grumbled, again, dropping the last of the boxes and heading back towards Alec's studio. "Hey Nate? You know they won't hold up to anything past a cursory glance, right?" He frowned apologetically at Alec, because they looked dead-on, and he hadn't been lying about the lack of sleep, but the medium was all wrong, and he knew it.
"It doesn't need to, they just need to see it being loaded out of the van. Okay. Miss Reinbold has just arrived at the airport. Parker, how are we coming on the originals?"
From a ledge on the east side of town, Parker replied. "The real one is inside. I am outside. I could be inside making nice with my new friends, but someone won't stop Janousek from talking!"
Alec was finally rolling away from the easel, pressing his the heel of his hands into his eyes gingerly, mindful of the paint staining his hands. He didn't seem to notice the vivid wisp of half-dried blue on the back of his neck, but Eliot was having a hard time taking his away.
Petit St. Vincent?
Stepping up behind the chair, careful to avoid the paint, he wrapped his hands tight over Alec's collarbone, gripping tightly. After a moment, he could feel the muscles start to give, just a bit, beneath the thin stained shirt. When Alec rocked his head back to look up at him, he leaned down to catch at his mouth, but only for a second. No more, or he'd be sliding down to his knees again, spinning the chair around like he'd done early this morning, when he'd needed to distract Alec, get his overtired ass to bed.
When he'd just needed him.
Sophie giggled a little bit loudly as she suggested that perhaps the mark would like to continue the conversation at the bistro down the block. "He's getting his coat," Parker muttered, quietly, and that was their cue.
He drove his thumbs up alongside the top of his spine, pressing up towards his skull, and Alec's eyes closed in contentment before opening again. "Move your ass," Alec started to stand up, flicking his hands away tiredly. Move!"
"All right, all right," Eliot laughed, stepping back. That settled it. Soon as this job was done and they'd slept for a week, he was dragging Alec away from all of this. Paint was great, but water and sand and sun-heated skin would be a nice change of pace. Monte Cristi. "Help me load in?"
"What, I got to do everything around here?" Alec smirked, before launching himself out of the chair.
Manzanillo, definitely.
---
THE END.
Thanks so much for reading! You survived the ordeal, so go on over and collect your prize:
Hey look! It's ANOTHER soundtrack/ fanmixy thing!!!
It's a single-file .zip download, and here's the tracklisting:
Leverage PseudoSoundtrack
Nate
1 Alice Cooper- No More Mr. Nice Guy
2 Mighty Mighty Bosstones- The Impression That I Get
Sophie
3 Chris Issac- Baby Did A Bad Bad Thing
4 Shivaree- Goodnight Moon
Eliot
5 The Killers- All These Things That I've Done
6 Billy Idol- Don't Need a Gun
Alec
7 Thievery Corporation- The Numbers Game
8 Alien Ant Farm- Smooth Criminal
Parker
9 The Monkees- St. Matthew
10 Thin Lizzy- Jailnreak
Leverage Consulting and Associates
11 Cage The Elephant- Ain't No Rest For The Wicked
12 J. Ralph- Kansas City Shuffle
13 The Ordinary Boys- We've Got The Best Job Ever
14 Edguy- Superheroes