Ruquas -- Fic -- Like Holding Back The Wind
Title:Like Holding Back The Wind
Author: Moonchildfic
Giftee: Ruquas
Rating: pg-13
Characters/Pairing: Nate/Eliot
Word Count: 5,464
Spoilers: Post Season Three but only vauge mentions.
Warnings: Domestic Abuse (emotional)
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, no money was made, and no characters were actually harmed (physically, emotionally, or otherwise) in the making of this fic.
Summary: 'Focus on the good days' is just one of many rules Eliot's found for dating Nate.
Notes: Many thanks to she who should be praised and given gold stars; my beta LMX_V3point3.
The title comes from the song "Stupid Boy".
And I feel the need to restate what has been said many times in the commentaries. Nathan Ford is not a nice man.
The room is quiet, silence kept at bay only by ambient noises.
He hated silences.
Hardison is watching him. Absurdly understanding considering everything that had…
Parker is there, suddenly, just like Parker. If it weren’t for all… this… it might have made them both smile.
And she’s not smiling. She just walks over to him and puts a piece of paper in his hands. It’s a brochure for an exhibition of Asian Weapons.
He turns it in his hands. He remembers visiting it.
“How did this happen?” Hardison asks.
He thinks about a fight gone wrong. Of words and hurt and a drunken night with resignation and everything going down-hill after that.
It’s all hazy. All give and no take.
“How did it happen,” he states instead of questions, the golden light of sunset coming in through the room’s tiny windows mocking him. “How do you get here from there.”
oOo
There are times and places where you just can’t get to where you want to go from where you are.
Eliot had always thought this would be one.
It was some Sunday in March. The weather had turned warm and beautiful early. The job had finished yesterday. He’d stayed late at Nate’s to clean up after the celebrations and somehow…
Somehow one thing had led to another. What started out as a conversation... What started out as them sharing a drink had led to this.
To a lazy Sunday morning, lying in bed as the golden sunlight of dawn was just stretching out over the city, watching Nate sleep, feeling…
Eliot didn’t know if it would last once Nate woke up, but he was happy enough to soak it in while it lasted all the same. That was one of the tenets of the life he led. Appreciate what you've got when you've got it and don’t think too much about how soon it’ll all be gone.
Then Nate woke up and *didn’t* freak out and Eliot made them both breakfast and they took a shower that they may or may not have ended up sharing and somehow it looked like it might not disappear like a dream.
When the others came in that afternoon no one made note of Eliot wearing clothes from his go bag and smelling like Nate’s shampoo. By then they all knew Eliot had four different residences that he bounced between randomly and, sometimes to further throw off anyone trying to ambush him, occasionally slept at the offices.
Nate complained about them invading his home on a weekend. Parker continued her “top secret” air-vent project. Hardison played on his computer. Sophie practiced her lines.
Eliot made lunch.
Another normal day.
It wasn’t until after their next job that either of them even mentioned that night again. Two jobs after that their private celebration after the post job celebration was more or less tradition.
The next night Eliot’s normal night-off bar trip ended with a very satisfying bar fight that may or may not have involved a couple army guys on leave who actually knew how to throw a half decent punch.
If Eliot ended up back at Nate’s to get some ice because it was closer and Eliot thought he might have a concussion and normally tried to avoid driving with one when it wasn’t a matter of life or death… well.
It was habit. One he’d be sure to get rid of one of these days. Habits were bad for a hitter.
He wasn’t prepared for Nate’s interrogation as he let him in, sat him down, and got him some ice. Eliot hadn’t known what exactly to call what he and Nate had doing but he was surprised by how long it took to convince Nate that, no, he hadn’t been looking to get laid. Just a drink and maybe a fight.
He was surprised he even needed to convince Nate of that.
Though if Nate’s response was going to be aggressive and mildly possessive sex then maybe Eliot could live with Nate’s possessive streak for however long this lasted.
And maybe it was kind of nice for someone to give enough of a damn about him to not want him sleeping with other people. It was as close to an actual relationship he was probably going to ever get.
After that night they stopped just sleeping together after a job. Eliot would stay until the others cleared out or Nate would show up at whichever place Eliot was staying at (and Eliot eventually got him to admit he was using Eliot’s ‘team phone’ to track Eliot’s movements to figure out where he was staying the night. Eliot didn’t know whether to be annoyed or just relieved there wasn’t a flaw in his security protocol that could be exploited by his enemies. His ‘team phone’ was unhackable to anyone outside the team).
And they stopped just fucking each other’s brains out. Eliot would make dinner or they’d watch a game or play chess. They even visited to an exhibition of Asian weapons at the Museum of Fine Arts. Sure, Nate had probably spent the evening planning and plotting heists and whatever it was Nate usually got up to, while Eliot looked at the weapons, but it had been a good day.
Focus on the good days. It was another rule Eliot had added to his list of rules for quasi-dating a mastermind.
It was the good days that Eliot was sticking around for. Even when things happened.
Like five days before their museum trip, when Eliot had taken the afternoon off and turned his team phone off so he couldn’t be tracked and just gone for a walk.
He’d done it periodically since the team moved to Boston. He was a lone wolf, learning to have a pack, but sometimes he just needed headspace without everyone chasing after him. The others were used to it by now. He turned his phone on every thirty minutes to check for messages. He never did it during a job.
Only when he got back the others were gone and Nate had demanded to know where he’d been and what he’d been up to. He’d smelled a trace of perfume and gone into full-on possessive mode even as Eliot tried to defend himself, explaining that there’d been an open air market and he’d been looking for a gift for Sophie’s birthday the following month.
And what the hell?
They’d gotten into a fight. Shouting had ensued. Eliot didn’t even know if they were together and Nate was trying to just…
He got frustrated, pissed off, and had grabbed his bag to leave.
Nate had gone quiet. He had pulled out a bottle of whiskey after finishing off whatever he’d already been drinking and started gulping it down like he’d been in the desert for days.
Eliot stopped near the door, unable to just walk out on that. “What? We had a fight so now you’re gonna go drown yourself in a bottle, that it?”
Nate held the bottle up to a light. “Figure this might be enough.”
“Enough for what?” Eliot asked, something in his gutt clenching.
“Enough,” Nate just finished. His tone flat.
Eliot knew manipulation when he saw it. Knew Nate was being Nate. He was playing his games and trying to con him.
So Eliot just walked away. That was the only way Nate would learn and…
Of course it would have worked better if not for Eliot’s habit of doing bed-checks on the team’s off days. Driving by their homes around midnight to make sure all was well before going about whatever other business he had.
A lamp he could normally see from the street wasn’t visible in the window at Nate’s place. It was a possible sign of a struggle.
And so Eliot had gone charging in to the rescue, only to find Nate about a sip away from alcohol poisoning.
It took time to revive Nate and clean him up, then clean up the mess, and Eliot knew this wasn’t his fault only it kind of was because he’d known when he'd walked out earlier that Nate was nothing if not stubborn and he had a serious problem and… shit.
This was a mess.
And when Nate woke up he’d actually apologized. Well he’d stumbled and slurred his way through one. And an explanation. And another apology and his paranoia that Eliot would leave him and Nate was just starting to get used to having someone again and Eliot didn’t have the heart to tell Nate he hadn’t even known they’d been “together”.
He’d just told Nate he wasn’t going anywhere. He’d been through a lot of shit in his life. It took a little more than a drinking problem to make him retreat.
Two days later Nate proposed the museum excursion and it felt like a date and Eliot figured maybe they were actually dating or some word for it that didn’t make Eliot feel like a sixteen year old.
And the museum was a good day and Eliot figured if they could just have a few more days like that then it was worth sticking around for, because god knew even a few days like that were better than anything else Eliot could hope for.
Even if the rest of the team still didn’t know. Eliot was okay with that. Really.
He didn’t need Sophie playing woman scorned when it wasn’t like they were going to last, right? Nate would end up with Sophie. Eliot was just enjoying this while he could.
Of course after the next job the rest of the team may have started to suspect something. There was an argument, as usual, and Eliot ended up agreeing with Parker and Hardison. Nate was being too… Nate-like.
It was a short argument. It was over in ten minutes. The con moved on.
But Nate gave him the cold shoulder throughout the rest of the con and after the post job celebration was over and it was just the two of them Nate’s passive aggressive silence had turned to sharp little jibes. Did Eliot want to run the team? Wasn’t he such a team player now? So much for the lone wolf. Nice to know he had Eliot’s support. Should he be bracing for Eliot to call the whole thing off?
And then out came the alcohol again and Nate was getting drunker and Eliot just took a breath, forcing down the responding anger. He had a temper problem. And he knew how to handle this sort of fight. Amie had been prone to this same sort of passive aggressive behavior whenever he pissed her off.
Calm reassurances. No, he didn’t want to run the team. Yes, he had Eliot’s support when it was deserved. No, Eliot wasn’t going to leave him.
Take the fire out of the arguments.
Only the words were turned back on him. “When I deserve it?” Nate shot back.
“When I support what you’re saying I’ll take your side with the team,” Eliot countered. Despite what everyone thought he could control his temper very well. He’d been interrogated enough times he knew how to keep his cool.
“The fact I’m saying it isn’t enough for you to just trust me?” Nate asked. “How many times have I been right?” He didn’t wait for Eliot to answer. “And how many times have you all thought I was out of control when I wasn’t. After all this time you can’t even trust me? And you say I’m the one that’s paranoid.”
Deep breath. “A voice of reason is a-“ It was the wrong thing to say and he knew it the moment he’d started to speak.
“And you’re that voice of reason.” There was thoughtfulness in the words. “Alright. When it comes to the safety of the team you know I look to you. And even when I don’t know how you know what you know, which is often because you don’t really say a lot about yourself and I get it, you still don’t trust me, I still trust that you know what you’re doing. Is it too much to ask for the same in return?”
Eliot sighed, wincing internally at the understanding being flung at him. He really did expect a lot from Nate without giving all that much in return. “I… yeah. Okay. Whatever.” It wasn’t worth it anyway.
They’d gone to bed, had some awesome make-up sex, and hopefully put the argument to bed.
On the next job there was another argument (as usual) and Eliot stayed out of it. Parker and Hardison could argue their point well enough on their own and it wasn’t worth the argument later.
The day after the job ended, when he took another of his solo walks he told Nate before he left and, to *try* with the whole trust thing, told Nate where he thought he might be going.
It looked like it would be smooth sailing until that night when Eliot was headed out for a bar trip Nate grabbed his coat to come along. Eliot found himself trying to awkwardly explain that, after living in the teams pocket for the last week he needed a little more headspace and time for himself. He liked bar hopping solo.
The argument seemed inevitable. Except there was no argument. Nate just went quiet and went for a drink and told Eliot to go ahead.
And clear as day Eliot knew if he walked out that door he’d come back to find Nate a sip away from alcohol poisoning again.
He had this insane urge to leave and not come back.
But then there’d be no one to clean up the mess he’d made and…
“Hey, isn’t there a Steeler’s game tonight?” He asked, dumping his jacket, and grabbing a beer from the fridge. He could get headspace some other night.
Later, after a few beers had loosened up his *not thinking* about things ability and he had maybe one drink more than he should because he was in a safe place and it was sure better than addressing the elephant in the room, he was thinking.
Well, mostly he was thinking about how he shouldn’t have had that last drink and that think was the reason why he didn’t drink (okay, along with the people trying to kill him thing).
But he was also thinking about how things were getting out of hand. The abrupt changes he’d made for Nate were for mostly the wrong reasons. He wasn’t blind. He could see there was maybe something unhealthy going on here. Maybe. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what.
But it wasn’t as simple as walking away. Nate was Nate. If Eliot broke this off Nate probably would go on a drinking binge that could kill him. Or they could have another of those reckless periods that could get someone on the team killed.
Or he might be forced to leave.
After all, it was Nate who kept them together, and this team was another thing Eliot knew was going to end one day.
He didn’t want to rush that day along.
But this wouldn’t last forever. Nate would end up with Sophie and Eliot could just ride this out until then. If Nate was the one who broke it off none of those things would happen.
Hell, he even was happy with it as long as he didn’t think too hard and managed to not piss Nate off.
He took another sip of his beer and shrugged internally. He could ride it out.
He’d been through worse.
oOo
Two months.
It was two months after that night, and Eliot was sitting in a hospital bed.
Nate hadn’t put him there. Maybe it would be easier if he had. He’s pretty sure if Nate ever hit him he’d have hit back and that would have been that.
He was pretty sure.
Of course six months ago he would have been pretty sure he’d have done something to take back control over his own life as it was slowly but surely pulled out from under him. He would have known better than to just decide to ‘ride it out’. Did that ever work?
He stopped arguing. He started telling Nate where he was going and not going when it looked like Nate was going to drink himself sick if left alone. He stopped being mad, recognizing that it was manipulation, and just got resigned and admitted he did put Nate through plenty of shit. He got used to having to explain every little chance there was something amiss. He got used to acknowledging when he had said something stupid and to having to retract it later.
He wasn’t sure when Nate started getting to him. When he stopped just letting Nate’s drunken rages roll off him like violence and anger had for years. Logically he knew… something. It didn’t stop the words from stinging and burning all the same. They got buried under his skin like bee stings, little tiny pricks that hurt more if he tried to pull them out.
But the silences were worse. Those normally came after Eliot knew he’d done something wrong. He’d dated a lot of people. Mostly because he never seemed able to get it quite right and as determined as he was to make this work and last…
Nate had many silences, all bad, but the worst was that knowing look, waiting for Eliot to realize anyone else would have just walked right out the door for the latest stunt he’d pulled.
Sometime in there Nate started telling instead of asking. Little things at first but more and more often. Calling him every hour when he was out of Nate’s apartment for longer than a day and suddenly there were all these side jobs and duties for Eliot when they were on a Job and Nate was in play. Eliot didn’t mind doing his job but it felt like they were more meant to keep him busy.
He went three days on a job without exchanging much more than a few words with Parker or Hardison and didn’t say anything to Sophie that wasn’t over coms.
By the end of their third job in a row with no days off he was so exhausted he skipped the post job celebration.
And the next day he had to deal with Nate, mad at him for skipping their celebration. Pickling his liver again because Eliot was an idiot and was getting soft.
The next job he got sidelined. Out of play. Sitting back at Nate’s apartment while even Hardison was in the van. Under orders to rest and heal.
Like he could rest when he was on the other freaking side of the city from the team, when they could need him. It was one thing for Nate to take out their relationship issues on Eliot, another to put the entire team at risk.
Even if he was exhausted. He just hadn’t been able to get a good night sleep in… a long time.
That night he’d headed out to his third residence as ordered by Nate (third time that week and his instincts were telling him to just switch it up but it wasn’t worth the argument with Nate about security issues), even more exhausted than usual. He’d argued with Nate about getting sidelined. About the team’s safety.
And things had ended about as badly as they could have. Nate drinking with that warning silence while Eliot tried to remember why he was apologizing this time and how the hell he ended up in a god damn life-time movie and Nate twisting all his words back on him and it wasn’t even like he could argue.
After all, the things Nate was telling him were true. Maybe painful twisted bits of truth that he tried to not think about normally.
But they were true.
All he could do was just keep with the same lines that he wasn’t leaving. Was on Nate’s side. Wasn’t screwing with whoever Nate thought he was secretly screwing this week.
They’d had sex and then Nate had kicked him out. Like a damn one night fuck. Dismissed him.
And Eliot didn’t know whether to feel used or just be relieved that it might mean it was all over.
Except this wasn’t the first time and mostly by now he was just apathetic about the whole mess, trying to anticipate and avoid but just too damn tired to care.
Later he’d curse himself for not paying more attention. He was Eliot Fucking Spencer. Not some street thug with a big gun and no sense.
But all you had to be was one second slower. All you had to do was let your guard down for one moment.
And everyone did eventually.
He hadn’t been paying attention, hadn’t seen the guy until there was a gun to his back.
He hadn’t lost all his abilities. He did take the guy down and get out alive.
Well mostly.
Strange. For once he was actually glad Nate had started to call to make sure he got home ‘safe’. It meant it was only a little more than an hour before Nate found him bleeding out in the back alley.
It was eighteen hours before he woke up in a hospital bed.
When he did it was to Parker sitting by his bed and the news that Nate had been checked into a rehab facility and Eliot didn’t even know what was going on anymore.
The doctors had come in and done a check up and when they’d gone out Hardison had been there.
Hardison sat in a chair and casually began to talk. Hardison had had a feeling something was up. Sophie had been suspicious. Parker had been talking about needing to steal him but hadn’t wanted to talk about why. She’d taken Sophie’s “Things we don’t talk about” speech to heart apparently.
But they’d been sitting in the waiting room and Nate’s mention of how he’d found Eliot got Hardison curious, mostly because he’d been trying to distract himself. He looked into the system and saw the volume of calls, the number of time Nate had used the team phones and coms to track Eliot’s movements. The alterations in Eliot’s movements that normally followed.
He’d talked to Sophie.
And then Parker had told them what she’d seen, when she used her “top secret” air vent project to sneak into the apartment. She hadn’t known the full implications, of drinking and cutting remarks, and carefully crafted sentences that twisted and pulled. But she’d *felt* something in her hurt. She’d seen the look on Eliot’s face.
She understood uncertainty. She understood what it looked like when someone was doing everything they could to not rock the boat because they were used to storms rolling in with no warning or reason.
And they’d all recognized the very implicit threat Eliot had been functioning under.
If Eliot fucked up, Nate drinking himself to death would be his fault.
If he miss-stepped and Nate became a raging alcoholic again and someone got hurt it would be his fault.
If he left Nate it would…
The horror had set in sometime around hour ten of waiting for Eliot to wake up.
It was Sophie who went in to talk to Nate, the only one who’d been allowed to stay with Eliot.
They’d all guessed there was something going on between them, now they wished they’d objected to Nate’s monopolization.
Hardison didn’t know what was said.
He did know Sophie had marched Nate out of the room and down the hall and next thing he knew Sophie was letting them know she had seen to it that Nate checked himself into rehab.
“He’s addicted to control and alcohol,” She’d said. “It’s the former that’s the problem but if we fix the later…”
She hadn’t said it, they hadn’t really had time to make a plan, they didn’t even really know how much of one they needed to make. This was Eliot. He wasn’t some…
“Victim,” Eliot had said, breaking into the story, using the word they couldn’t use. “Abuse victim,” he stated calmly. “I’m not.” He had looked Hardison in the eye. “He never hurt me.”
“That’s not the only wa…” Hardison said, shaking his head. Eliot opened his mouth, that smirk on his face and Hardison cut in. “And don’t get started on your sex life. You know that’s not what I meant. And ew. T. M. I.” He shook off the scaring mental image. “I’m not saying you’re a victim just…”
“Just what?”
“Neural linguistics, hypnosis, just plain manipulation, or whatever man but he’s got you twisted up so bad if he does something because he’s an idiot you’ll blame yourself. That’s all kinds of wrong.”
“It’s not… It’s not like that,” Eliot stated. “Things just… got a little out of hand, but it’ll work out. This ain't gonna last forever. He’s gonna end up with Sophie and things’ll just…”
“Do you even hear yourself?” Hardison asked, standing, angry now. “Let's just, for a minute, forget the whole ‘I’m Mr. Eliot So-Many-Self-Worth-Issues-My-Last-Name-Might-As-Well-Be-Winchester Spencer’ issue. If Nate, as you say, does move onto Sophie. Do you think somehow all his issues are gonna disappear with her? Some true love or because she’s a woman or whatever.”
Eliot opened his mouth.
“So help me if your answer is self-deprecating I will pull a Nana and smack you with a spoon, head injury or not.”
Eliot’s ribs made him regret the laugh that threat pulled out of him. Maybe it was the head injury, or just not wanting to be in this situation, or the image of Hardison dressed in a Nana’s clothes and armed with a spoon was hilarious.
“Don’t think I won’t,” Hardison added, not amused. “Ever wonder why his marriage with Maggie broke up? I don’t know. But I’m willing to bet you got a good re-enactment of it.”
That was a sobering thought, but considered… no.
“You don’t understand.” Eliot said, hating himself for letting out the words the moment they left his lips. He didn’t need to make himself sound like a… a…
Victim damnit. He could think it. He wasn’t so messed up that he couldn’t think a word just because Hardison was treating him like some lifetime movie heroi-
“I do.” Hardison said, his voice lowering, going softer. “You had a chance for something. You had to try because people like us? Aren’t supposed to be able to get there from here and it seemed so close you had to try. And you weren’t happy. And you knew it. But it’s as close as you think you’ll ever get so you start to believe it’s good enough. That if you can just be happy with what you’ve got maybe things will get better.”
There was something, something as he spoke, looking past Eliot’s shoulder, his eyes unfocused.
Every so often Eliot was just hit by this awareness of how *young* Hardison was.
But…
Hardison gave a bitter smile and looked at Eliot, a trace of something… “It doesn’t.” A deep breath. “They don’t have to hit for it to hurt. Just convince you it’s love when they do something wrong.”
Eliot didn’t know what to say to that. Didn’t know how to banish the ghosts in the room.
A nurse came in and he let himself be distracted as she did her thing, noticing he didn’t flirt even though she was pretty.
After she left Hardison was still there, waiting.
And then Parker got there and Hardison asked how this happened and he told them, slowly, staring down at the brochure in his hands, trying to trace it all back.
It’s easier to see in retrospect. It’s impossible to see too.
There is no one thing, no one action, nothing simple, and no evidence more substantial than the way his gut had clenched the last time he’d looked at his caller ID and seen Nate’s name.
He knew cuts and broken bones, he could identify all the signs of a beating.
But all the proof he had to show for the past months was a bruised ego and confusion and vague concepts.
“Nate’s in rehab,” Hardison said after a long silence, when it became clear Eliot was done talking. “It’s not the main problem but there’s no rehab for control issues. After he gets out…” Hardison trailed off.
Eliot looked up and nodded, folding the brochure and putting it beside his bed, taking a deep breath.
They were trying to take care of him. It was nice but not necessary. He’d just… do what he always did. Pull himself back together, learn something for the fight, move on.
He’d pack his shit as soon as he got out of the hospital, be ready for Nate to come back. He didn’t know what the fallout of all this would be but…
If it was between him leaving and the team Eliot would leave.
And if it was between him going back to Nate and…
He would just… he wouldn’t just let himself go back to that.
“Hey.” Hardison said and Eliot hadn’t even realized he’d zoned out. Had to be the head injury. That should have worried him more than it did. “When he gets out he’s going to go to meetings, and we’re all gonna keep an eye on him, and if he so much tries to guilt trip you we’re kicking his sorry ass to the curb.”
Eliot just stared at Hardison. Did they really plan on getting rid of their mastermind? The team couldn’t function without him. They’d break up and it really would be his fault.
“Yeah. Ditch him. I said it,” Hardison said. “Parker and Sophie agreed. We’ll move to a new city, get new aliases, start a new crew. I’d even be willing to leave Old Nate behind.”
It was probably a sign that there was something wrong with all of them that that last offer was what made Eliot realize how dead serious Hardison was.
“Why?” Eliot asked. He figured he might have to leave but the team without Nate…
“Do I need to bring up your new middle name again?” Hardison said sounding mildly annoyed.
“Because you’re here.” Parker said, making both of them jump. They’d almost forgotten she was there. “And still here. And you cook and look after us and get beat up so we can do our jobs but mostly because you’re here and have always been here. Well. Not always.” She looked up, probably calculating something. “You live at home and you haven’t been in Boston longer than the rest of us but that’s not the point.”
“The point is you came to Boston and stayed,” Hardison said. “Sophie ran off to find herself. Nate got himself sent to prison… even when Moreau came around and all of that happened, and yeah… you should have told us but you could have also run. You stayed for us.”
“No one else ever has,” Parker said softly. “It just us. The three of us. And Sophie. Just the four of us. That’s all we have.”
Eliot just closed his eyes and leaned back. None of it made sense right now but…
He trusted his feelings, and so long as he listened to them he was rarely led astray.
There was fear and resignation and someday there’d probably be anger at the thought of Nate, mixed in with everything else but…
Right then, listening to Parker start to ramble about how Sophie had left but always came back and yeah, it wasn’t as good as Eliot and Hardison always staying but…
Right then?
He was confused and didn’t want to face Nate, even though he knew he’d have to and he would have to try and figure out how to get this all sorted out because, for better or worse, because the four of them were all Nate had too. He’d have to walk away on his own next time and now he’d be dealing with Hardison and Parker and Sophie trying to take care of him and…
It would all be hard. Like always.
But mixed in with all that confusion and trying to make sense of it all was a feeling.
Warm and cool and soft. Like the summer night outside the golden sunlight had given way to. Comforting, not dangerous.
A place and time for rest. He sighed, letting that haze start to pull him back under.
It would be hard, like always, but for the first time he let the knowledge that this team was one thing that he might get to keep settle around him and lull him to sleep.
Author: Moonchildfic
Giftee: Ruquas
Rating: pg-13
Characters/Pairing: Nate/Eliot
Word Count: 5,464
Spoilers: Post Season Three but only vauge mentions.
Warnings: Domestic Abuse (emotional)
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, no money was made, and no characters were actually harmed (physically, emotionally, or otherwise) in the making of this fic.
Summary: 'Focus on the good days' is just one of many rules Eliot's found for dating Nate.
Notes: Many thanks to she who should be praised and given gold stars; my beta LMX_V3point3.
The title comes from the song "Stupid Boy".
And I feel the need to restate what has been said many times in the commentaries. Nathan Ford is not a nice man.
The room is quiet, silence kept at bay only by ambient noises.
He hated silences.
Hardison is watching him. Absurdly understanding considering everything that had…
Parker is there, suddenly, just like Parker. If it weren’t for all… this… it might have made them both smile.
And she’s not smiling. She just walks over to him and puts a piece of paper in his hands. It’s a brochure for an exhibition of Asian Weapons.
He turns it in his hands. He remembers visiting it.
“How did this happen?” Hardison asks.
He thinks about a fight gone wrong. Of words and hurt and a drunken night with resignation and everything going down-hill after that.
It’s all hazy. All give and no take.
“How did it happen,” he states instead of questions, the golden light of sunset coming in through the room’s tiny windows mocking him. “How do you get here from there.”
oOo
There are times and places where you just can’t get to where you want to go from where you are.
Eliot had always thought this would be one.
It was some Sunday in March. The weather had turned warm and beautiful early. The job had finished yesterday. He’d stayed late at Nate’s to clean up after the celebrations and somehow…
Somehow one thing had led to another. What started out as a conversation... What started out as them sharing a drink had led to this.
To a lazy Sunday morning, lying in bed as the golden sunlight of dawn was just stretching out over the city, watching Nate sleep, feeling…
Eliot didn’t know if it would last once Nate woke up, but he was happy enough to soak it in while it lasted all the same. That was one of the tenets of the life he led. Appreciate what you've got when you've got it and don’t think too much about how soon it’ll all be gone.
Then Nate woke up and *didn’t* freak out and Eliot made them both breakfast and they took a shower that they may or may not have ended up sharing and somehow it looked like it might not disappear like a dream.
When the others came in that afternoon no one made note of Eliot wearing clothes from his go bag and smelling like Nate’s shampoo. By then they all knew Eliot had four different residences that he bounced between randomly and, sometimes to further throw off anyone trying to ambush him, occasionally slept at the offices.
Nate complained about them invading his home on a weekend. Parker continued her “top secret” air-vent project. Hardison played on his computer. Sophie practiced her lines.
Eliot made lunch.
Another normal day.
It wasn’t until after their next job that either of them even mentioned that night again. Two jobs after that their private celebration after the post job celebration was more or less tradition.
The next night Eliot’s normal night-off bar trip ended with a very satisfying bar fight that may or may not have involved a couple army guys on leave who actually knew how to throw a half decent punch.
If Eliot ended up back at Nate’s to get some ice because it was closer and Eliot thought he might have a concussion and normally tried to avoid driving with one when it wasn’t a matter of life or death… well.
It was habit. One he’d be sure to get rid of one of these days. Habits were bad for a hitter.
He wasn’t prepared for Nate’s interrogation as he let him in, sat him down, and got him some ice. Eliot hadn’t known what exactly to call what he and Nate had doing but he was surprised by how long it took to convince Nate that, no, he hadn’t been looking to get laid. Just a drink and maybe a fight.
He was surprised he even needed to convince Nate of that.
Though if Nate’s response was going to be aggressive and mildly possessive sex then maybe Eliot could live with Nate’s possessive streak for however long this lasted.
And maybe it was kind of nice for someone to give enough of a damn about him to not want him sleeping with other people. It was as close to an actual relationship he was probably going to ever get.
After that night they stopped just sleeping together after a job. Eliot would stay until the others cleared out or Nate would show up at whichever place Eliot was staying at (and Eliot eventually got him to admit he was using Eliot’s ‘team phone’ to track Eliot’s movements to figure out where he was staying the night. Eliot didn’t know whether to be annoyed or just relieved there wasn’t a flaw in his security protocol that could be exploited by his enemies. His ‘team phone’ was unhackable to anyone outside the team).
And they stopped just fucking each other’s brains out. Eliot would make dinner or they’d watch a game or play chess. They even visited to an exhibition of Asian weapons at the Museum of Fine Arts. Sure, Nate had probably spent the evening planning and plotting heists and whatever it was Nate usually got up to, while Eliot looked at the weapons, but it had been a good day.
Focus on the good days. It was another rule Eliot had added to his list of rules for quasi-dating a mastermind.
It was the good days that Eliot was sticking around for. Even when things happened.
Like five days before their museum trip, when Eliot had taken the afternoon off and turned his team phone off so he couldn’t be tracked and just gone for a walk.
He’d done it periodically since the team moved to Boston. He was a lone wolf, learning to have a pack, but sometimes he just needed headspace without everyone chasing after him. The others were used to it by now. He turned his phone on every thirty minutes to check for messages. He never did it during a job.
Only when he got back the others were gone and Nate had demanded to know where he’d been and what he’d been up to. He’d smelled a trace of perfume and gone into full-on possessive mode even as Eliot tried to defend himself, explaining that there’d been an open air market and he’d been looking for a gift for Sophie’s birthday the following month.
And what the hell?
They’d gotten into a fight. Shouting had ensued. Eliot didn’t even know if they were together and Nate was trying to just…
He got frustrated, pissed off, and had grabbed his bag to leave.
Nate had gone quiet. He had pulled out a bottle of whiskey after finishing off whatever he’d already been drinking and started gulping it down like he’d been in the desert for days.
Eliot stopped near the door, unable to just walk out on that. “What? We had a fight so now you’re gonna go drown yourself in a bottle, that it?”
Nate held the bottle up to a light. “Figure this might be enough.”
“Enough for what?” Eliot asked, something in his gutt clenching.
“Enough,” Nate just finished. His tone flat.
Eliot knew manipulation when he saw it. Knew Nate was being Nate. He was playing his games and trying to con him.
So Eliot just walked away. That was the only way Nate would learn and…
Of course it would have worked better if not for Eliot’s habit of doing bed-checks on the team’s off days. Driving by their homes around midnight to make sure all was well before going about whatever other business he had.
A lamp he could normally see from the street wasn’t visible in the window at Nate’s place. It was a possible sign of a struggle.
And so Eliot had gone charging in to the rescue, only to find Nate about a sip away from alcohol poisoning.
It took time to revive Nate and clean him up, then clean up the mess, and Eliot knew this wasn’t his fault only it kind of was because he’d known when he'd walked out earlier that Nate was nothing if not stubborn and he had a serious problem and… shit.
This was a mess.
And when Nate woke up he’d actually apologized. Well he’d stumbled and slurred his way through one. And an explanation. And another apology and his paranoia that Eliot would leave him and Nate was just starting to get used to having someone again and Eliot didn’t have the heart to tell Nate he hadn’t even known they’d been “together”.
He’d just told Nate he wasn’t going anywhere. He’d been through a lot of shit in his life. It took a little more than a drinking problem to make him retreat.
Two days later Nate proposed the museum excursion and it felt like a date and Eliot figured maybe they were actually dating or some word for it that didn’t make Eliot feel like a sixteen year old.
And the museum was a good day and Eliot figured if they could just have a few more days like that then it was worth sticking around for, because god knew even a few days like that were better than anything else Eliot could hope for.
Even if the rest of the team still didn’t know. Eliot was okay with that. Really.
He didn’t need Sophie playing woman scorned when it wasn’t like they were going to last, right? Nate would end up with Sophie. Eliot was just enjoying this while he could.
Of course after the next job the rest of the team may have started to suspect something. There was an argument, as usual, and Eliot ended up agreeing with Parker and Hardison. Nate was being too… Nate-like.
It was a short argument. It was over in ten minutes. The con moved on.
But Nate gave him the cold shoulder throughout the rest of the con and after the post job celebration was over and it was just the two of them Nate’s passive aggressive silence had turned to sharp little jibes. Did Eliot want to run the team? Wasn’t he such a team player now? So much for the lone wolf. Nice to know he had Eliot’s support. Should he be bracing for Eliot to call the whole thing off?
And then out came the alcohol again and Nate was getting drunker and Eliot just took a breath, forcing down the responding anger. He had a temper problem. And he knew how to handle this sort of fight. Amie had been prone to this same sort of passive aggressive behavior whenever he pissed her off.
Calm reassurances. No, he didn’t want to run the team. Yes, he had Eliot’s support when it was deserved. No, Eliot wasn’t going to leave him.
Take the fire out of the arguments.
Only the words were turned back on him. “When I deserve it?” Nate shot back.
“When I support what you’re saying I’ll take your side with the team,” Eliot countered. Despite what everyone thought he could control his temper very well. He’d been interrogated enough times he knew how to keep his cool.
“The fact I’m saying it isn’t enough for you to just trust me?” Nate asked. “How many times have I been right?” He didn’t wait for Eliot to answer. “And how many times have you all thought I was out of control when I wasn’t. After all this time you can’t even trust me? And you say I’m the one that’s paranoid.”
Deep breath. “A voice of reason is a-“ It was the wrong thing to say and he knew it the moment he’d started to speak.
“And you’re that voice of reason.” There was thoughtfulness in the words. “Alright. When it comes to the safety of the team you know I look to you. And even when I don’t know how you know what you know, which is often because you don’t really say a lot about yourself and I get it, you still don’t trust me, I still trust that you know what you’re doing. Is it too much to ask for the same in return?”
Eliot sighed, wincing internally at the understanding being flung at him. He really did expect a lot from Nate without giving all that much in return. “I… yeah. Okay. Whatever.” It wasn’t worth it anyway.
They’d gone to bed, had some awesome make-up sex, and hopefully put the argument to bed.
On the next job there was another argument (as usual) and Eliot stayed out of it. Parker and Hardison could argue their point well enough on their own and it wasn’t worth the argument later.
The day after the job ended, when he took another of his solo walks he told Nate before he left and, to *try* with the whole trust thing, told Nate where he thought he might be going.
It looked like it would be smooth sailing until that night when Eliot was headed out for a bar trip Nate grabbed his coat to come along. Eliot found himself trying to awkwardly explain that, after living in the teams pocket for the last week he needed a little more headspace and time for himself. He liked bar hopping solo.
The argument seemed inevitable. Except there was no argument. Nate just went quiet and went for a drink and told Eliot to go ahead.
And clear as day Eliot knew if he walked out that door he’d come back to find Nate a sip away from alcohol poisoning again.
He had this insane urge to leave and not come back.
But then there’d be no one to clean up the mess he’d made and…
“Hey, isn’t there a Steeler’s game tonight?” He asked, dumping his jacket, and grabbing a beer from the fridge. He could get headspace some other night.
Later, after a few beers had loosened up his *not thinking* about things ability and he had maybe one drink more than he should because he was in a safe place and it was sure better than addressing the elephant in the room, he was thinking.
Well, mostly he was thinking about how he shouldn’t have had that last drink and that think was the reason why he didn’t drink (okay, along with the people trying to kill him thing).
But he was also thinking about how things were getting out of hand. The abrupt changes he’d made for Nate were for mostly the wrong reasons. He wasn’t blind. He could see there was maybe something unhealthy going on here. Maybe. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what.
But it wasn’t as simple as walking away. Nate was Nate. If Eliot broke this off Nate probably would go on a drinking binge that could kill him. Or they could have another of those reckless periods that could get someone on the team killed.
Or he might be forced to leave.
After all, it was Nate who kept them together, and this team was another thing Eliot knew was going to end one day.
He didn’t want to rush that day along.
But this wouldn’t last forever. Nate would end up with Sophie and Eliot could just ride this out until then. If Nate was the one who broke it off none of those things would happen.
Hell, he even was happy with it as long as he didn’t think too hard and managed to not piss Nate off.
He took another sip of his beer and shrugged internally. He could ride it out.
He’d been through worse.
oOo
Two months.
It was two months after that night, and Eliot was sitting in a hospital bed.
Nate hadn’t put him there. Maybe it would be easier if he had. He’s pretty sure if Nate ever hit him he’d have hit back and that would have been that.
He was pretty sure.
Of course six months ago he would have been pretty sure he’d have done something to take back control over his own life as it was slowly but surely pulled out from under him. He would have known better than to just decide to ‘ride it out’. Did that ever work?
He stopped arguing. He started telling Nate where he was going and not going when it looked like Nate was going to drink himself sick if left alone. He stopped being mad, recognizing that it was manipulation, and just got resigned and admitted he did put Nate through plenty of shit. He got used to having to explain every little chance there was something amiss. He got used to acknowledging when he had said something stupid and to having to retract it later.
He wasn’t sure when Nate started getting to him. When he stopped just letting Nate’s drunken rages roll off him like violence and anger had for years. Logically he knew… something. It didn’t stop the words from stinging and burning all the same. They got buried under his skin like bee stings, little tiny pricks that hurt more if he tried to pull them out.
But the silences were worse. Those normally came after Eliot knew he’d done something wrong. He’d dated a lot of people. Mostly because he never seemed able to get it quite right and as determined as he was to make this work and last…
Nate had many silences, all bad, but the worst was that knowing look, waiting for Eliot to realize anyone else would have just walked right out the door for the latest stunt he’d pulled.
Sometime in there Nate started telling instead of asking. Little things at first but more and more often. Calling him every hour when he was out of Nate’s apartment for longer than a day and suddenly there were all these side jobs and duties for Eliot when they were on a Job and Nate was in play. Eliot didn’t mind doing his job but it felt like they were more meant to keep him busy.
He went three days on a job without exchanging much more than a few words with Parker or Hardison and didn’t say anything to Sophie that wasn’t over coms.
By the end of their third job in a row with no days off he was so exhausted he skipped the post job celebration.
And the next day he had to deal with Nate, mad at him for skipping their celebration. Pickling his liver again because Eliot was an idiot and was getting soft.
The next job he got sidelined. Out of play. Sitting back at Nate’s apartment while even Hardison was in the van. Under orders to rest and heal.
Like he could rest when he was on the other freaking side of the city from the team, when they could need him. It was one thing for Nate to take out their relationship issues on Eliot, another to put the entire team at risk.
Even if he was exhausted. He just hadn’t been able to get a good night sleep in… a long time.
That night he’d headed out to his third residence as ordered by Nate (third time that week and his instincts were telling him to just switch it up but it wasn’t worth the argument with Nate about security issues), even more exhausted than usual. He’d argued with Nate about getting sidelined. About the team’s safety.
And things had ended about as badly as they could have. Nate drinking with that warning silence while Eliot tried to remember why he was apologizing this time and how the hell he ended up in a god damn life-time movie and Nate twisting all his words back on him and it wasn’t even like he could argue.
After all, the things Nate was telling him were true. Maybe painful twisted bits of truth that he tried to not think about normally.
But they were true.
All he could do was just keep with the same lines that he wasn’t leaving. Was on Nate’s side. Wasn’t screwing with whoever Nate thought he was secretly screwing this week.
They’d had sex and then Nate had kicked him out. Like a damn one night fuck. Dismissed him.
And Eliot didn’t know whether to feel used or just be relieved that it might mean it was all over.
Except this wasn’t the first time and mostly by now he was just apathetic about the whole mess, trying to anticipate and avoid but just too damn tired to care.
Later he’d curse himself for not paying more attention. He was Eliot Fucking Spencer. Not some street thug with a big gun and no sense.
But all you had to be was one second slower. All you had to do was let your guard down for one moment.
And everyone did eventually.
He hadn’t been paying attention, hadn’t seen the guy until there was a gun to his back.
He hadn’t lost all his abilities. He did take the guy down and get out alive.
Well mostly.
Strange. For once he was actually glad Nate had started to call to make sure he got home ‘safe’. It meant it was only a little more than an hour before Nate found him bleeding out in the back alley.
It was eighteen hours before he woke up in a hospital bed.
When he did it was to Parker sitting by his bed and the news that Nate had been checked into a rehab facility and Eliot didn’t even know what was going on anymore.
The doctors had come in and done a check up and when they’d gone out Hardison had been there.
Hardison sat in a chair and casually began to talk. Hardison had had a feeling something was up. Sophie had been suspicious. Parker had been talking about needing to steal him but hadn’t wanted to talk about why. She’d taken Sophie’s “Things we don’t talk about” speech to heart apparently.
But they’d been sitting in the waiting room and Nate’s mention of how he’d found Eliot got Hardison curious, mostly because he’d been trying to distract himself. He looked into the system and saw the volume of calls, the number of time Nate had used the team phones and coms to track Eliot’s movements. The alterations in Eliot’s movements that normally followed.
He’d talked to Sophie.
And then Parker had told them what she’d seen, when she used her “top secret” air vent project to sneak into the apartment. She hadn’t known the full implications, of drinking and cutting remarks, and carefully crafted sentences that twisted and pulled. But she’d *felt* something in her hurt. She’d seen the look on Eliot’s face.
She understood uncertainty. She understood what it looked like when someone was doing everything they could to not rock the boat because they were used to storms rolling in with no warning or reason.
And they’d all recognized the very implicit threat Eliot had been functioning under.
If Eliot fucked up, Nate drinking himself to death would be his fault.
If he miss-stepped and Nate became a raging alcoholic again and someone got hurt it would be his fault.
If he left Nate it would…
The horror had set in sometime around hour ten of waiting for Eliot to wake up.
It was Sophie who went in to talk to Nate, the only one who’d been allowed to stay with Eliot.
They’d all guessed there was something going on between them, now they wished they’d objected to Nate’s monopolization.
Hardison didn’t know what was said.
He did know Sophie had marched Nate out of the room and down the hall and next thing he knew Sophie was letting them know she had seen to it that Nate checked himself into rehab.
“He’s addicted to control and alcohol,” She’d said. “It’s the former that’s the problem but if we fix the later…”
She hadn’t said it, they hadn’t really had time to make a plan, they didn’t even really know how much of one they needed to make. This was Eliot. He wasn’t some…
“Victim,” Eliot had said, breaking into the story, using the word they couldn’t use. “Abuse victim,” he stated calmly. “I’m not.” He had looked Hardison in the eye. “He never hurt me.”
“That’s not the only wa…” Hardison said, shaking his head. Eliot opened his mouth, that smirk on his face and Hardison cut in. “And don’t get started on your sex life. You know that’s not what I meant. And ew. T. M. I.” He shook off the scaring mental image. “I’m not saying you’re a victim just…”
“Just what?”
“Neural linguistics, hypnosis, just plain manipulation, or whatever man but he’s got you twisted up so bad if he does something because he’s an idiot you’ll blame yourself. That’s all kinds of wrong.”
“It’s not… It’s not like that,” Eliot stated. “Things just… got a little out of hand, but it’ll work out. This ain't gonna last forever. He’s gonna end up with Sophie and things’ll just…”
“Do you even hear yourself?” Hardison asked, standing, angry now. “Let's just, for a minute, forget the whole ‘I’m Mr. Eliot So-Many-Self-Worth-Issues-My-Last-Name-Might-As-Well-Be-Winchester Spencer’ issue. If Nate, as you say, does move onto Sophie. Do you think somehow all his issues are gonna disappear with her? Some true love or because she’s a woman or whatever.”
Eliot opened his mouth.
“So help me if your answer is self-deprecating I will pull a Nana and smack you with a spoon, head injury or not.”
Eliot’s ribs made him regret the laugh that threat pulled out of him. Maybe it was the head injury, or just not wanting to be in this situation, or the image of Hardison dressed in a Nana’s clothes and armed with a spoon was hilarious.
“Don’t think I won’t,” Hardison added, not amused. “Ever wonder why his marriage with Maggie broke up? I don’t know. But I’m willing to bet you got a good re-enactment of it.”
That was a sobering thought, but considered… no.
“You don’t understand.” Eliot said, hating himself for letting out the words the moment they left his lips. He didn’t need to make himself sound like a… a…
Victim damnit. He could think it. He wasn’t so messed up that he couldn’t think a word just because Hardison was treating him like some lifetime movie heroi-
“I do.” Hardison said, his voice lowering, going softer. “You had a chance for something. You had to try because people like us? Aren’t supposed to be able to get there from here and it seemed so close you had to try. And you weren’t happy. And you knew it. But it’s as close as you think you’ll ever get so you start to believe it’s good enough. That if you can just be happy with what you’ve got maybe things will get better.”
There was something, something as he spoke, looking past Eliot’s shoulder, his eyes unfocused.
Every so often Eliot was just hit by this awareness of how *young* Hardison was.
But…
Hardison gave a bitter smile and looked at Eliot, a trace of something… “It doesn’t.” A deep breath. “They don’t have to hit for it to hurt. Just convince you it’s love when they do something wrong.”
Eliot didn’t know what to say to that. Didn’t know how to banish the ghosts in the room.
A nurse came in and he let himself be distracted as she did her thing, noticing he didn’t flirt even though she was pretty.
After she left Hardison was still there, waiting.
And then Parker got there and Hardison asked how this happened and he told them, slowly, staring down at the brochure in his hands, trying to trace it all back.
It’s easier to see in retrospect. It’s impossible to see too.
There is no one thing, no one action, nothing simple, and no evidence more substantial than the way his gut had clenched the last time he’d looked at his caller ID and seen Nate’s name.
He knew cuts and broken bones, he could identify all the signs of a beating.
But all the proof he had to show for the past months was a bruised ego and confusion and vague concepts.
“Nate’s in rehab,” Hardison said after a long silence, when it became clear Eliot was done talking. “It’s not the main problem but there’s no rehab for control issues. After he gets out…” Hardison trailed off.
Eliot looked up and nodded, folding the brochure and putting it beside his bed, taking a deep breath.
They were trying to take care of him. It was nice but not necessary. He’d just… do what he always did. Pull himself back together, learn something for the fight, move on.
He’d pack his shit as soon as he got out of the hospital, be ready for Nate to come back. He didn’t know what the fallout of all this would be but…
If it was between him leaving and the team Eliot would leave.
And if it was between him going back to Nate and…
He would just… he wouldn’t just let himself go back to that.
“Hey.” Hardison said and Eliot hadn’t even realized he’d zoned out. Had to be the head injury. That should have worried him more than it did. “When he gets out he’s going to go to meetings, and we’re all gonna keep an eye on him, and if he so much tries to guilt trip you we’re kicking his sorry ass to the curb.”
Eliot just stared at Hardison. Did they really plan on getting rid of their mastermind? The team couldn’t function without him. They’d break up and it really would be his fault.
“Yeah. Ditch him. I said it,” Hardison said. “Parker and Sophie agreed. We’ll move to a new city, get new aliases, start a new crew. I’d even be willing to leave Old Nate behind.”
It was probably a sign that there was something wrong with all of them that that last offer was what made Eliot realize how dead serious Hardison was.
“Why?” Eliot asked. He figured he might have to leave but the team without Nate…
“Do I need to bring up your new middle name again?” Hardison said sounding mildly annoyed.
“Because you’re here.” Parker said, making both of them jump. They’d almost forgotten she was there. “And still here. And you cook and look after us and get beat up so we can do our jobs but mostly because you’re here and have always been here. Well. Not always.” She looked up, probably calculating something. “You live at home and you haven’t been in Boston longer than the rest of us but that’s not the point.”
“The point is you came to Boston and stayed,” Hardison said. “Sophie ran off to find herself. Nate got himself sent to prison… even when Moreau came around and all of that happened, and yeah… you should have told us but you could have also run. You stayed for us.”
“No one else ever has,” Parker said softly. “It just us. The three of us. And Sophie. Just the four of us. That’s all we have.”
Eliot just closed his eyes and leaned back. None of it made sense right now but…
He trusted his feelings, and so long as he listened to them he was rarely led astray.
There was fear and resignation and someday there’d probably be anger at the thought of Nate, mixed in with everything else but…
Right then, listening to Parker start to ramble about how Sophie had left but always came back and yeah, it wasn’t as good as Eliot and Hardison always staying but…
Right then?
He was confused and didn’t want to face Nate, even though he knew he’d have to and he would have to try and figure out how to get this all sorted out because, for better or worse, because the four of them were all Nate had too. He’d have to walk away on his own next time and now he’d be dealing with Hardison and Parker and Sophie trying to take care of him and…
It would all be hard. Like always.
But mixed in with all that confusion and trying to make sense of it all was a feeling.
Warm and cool and soft. Like the summer night outside the golden sunlight had given way to. Comforting, not dangerous.
A place and time for rest. He sighed, letting that haze start to pull him back under.
It would be hard, like always, but for the first time he let the knowledge that this team was one thing that he might get to keep settle around him and lull him to sleep.