Unfinished Business, Leverage, PG-13
Fandom: Leverage
Title: Unfinished Business
Characters/Pairings: Nate, Eliot, Hardison (sort of Nate/Eliot pre-slash)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 3960
Summary: Nate gets a call from a wounded and trapped Eliot who only wants a ride home, but Nate can't just leave him once he realizes just how wounded Eliot is.
A/Ns & Warnings: This was meant to go slashy places. It didn't. It has the early warning signs of slash to come. Still not sure I got the character voices and stuff right, but it's my first go at the fandom...so...features wounded!Eliot and confused!Nate, prescription drugs (illegally obtained), various wounds, and a little bit of schloomp.
It was well after 10 pm and considering they hadn't had a case in a few days, there was no real reason Nate was sitting in his office contemplating the bottle of Scotch on his desk. He wasn't feeling compelled to open it though, he just was not ready to go home to an empty apartment.
Not that the empty office was all that much better. Okay, it also wasn't completely empty. Nearly everyone was off working at…whatever it was they worked at when Nate wasn't supervising. All except Hardison, who Nate was beginning to suspect slept on that overstuffed couch he bought for his office when he actually slept. The guy was always there, any time Nate showed up, doing something, playing with his high tech gadgets.
Nate sighed and put the bottle away. There was no point. Starting now would only make going home harder. He stood, grabbing for his jacket. He was three steps from the door when the phone in his pocket rang. Eliot's name flashed on the screen. Nate pressed the button to connect and lifted the phone to his ear. When nothing but air greeted him, he pulled the phone away to make sure it connected. "Eliot?"
There was harsh breathing and what sounded like a groan.
"Eliot? Are you okay?"
"Yeah," he said finally. "Need a lift."
"Where are you?" Nate crossed to his desk to grab a pen. When Eliot gave him the address, Nate frowned. "What are you doing-never mind. I don't want to know."
And he didn't. Whatever his team did when they weren't working a case was up to them. Period. He didn't ever want to know.
"I can be there in a half hour."
"Sooner is better." Eliot hung up.
Nate stared at his phone, wondering what Eliot had gotten himself into that he would call Nate for a ride…not to mention what had happened to his own ride. Nate shook his head and headed out, ignoring Hardison's startled yell when he turned out the lights and smiling to himself as he climbed into his car.
"Sooner is better."
The smile faded as Nate pulled out onto the nearly empty streets and considered the strain in Eliot's voice. Of course, it was difficult to tell if there was something wrong. Eliot's voice always sounded a little constrained, unless he was angry…or the game called for yelling.
Still…it wasn't like Eliot. Nate sped up and turned down the street that would take him out of respectable downtown, through the rough industrial neighborhood and into the dark, narrow streets where even police only came in numbers. Leave it to Eliot to get himself stranded in a place like this.
Nate watched the streets around him, lined with broken down old tenements and burned out shop fronts. The streets seemed empty, but for a small gang of boys on one street corner smoking and trying to convince each other they were tough. The quiet itself was unsettling. This was gang territory, drugs and crime a way of life. The streets were usually filled with punks and gangsters, whores and wanna-be bad-guys, but it seemed no one was around.
But, somewhere out here was Eliot…and probably plenty of trouble. Not from your average street gang either. Not with Eliot. Okay, so maybe Nate was a little bit worried now. The hair on the back of his neck was standing up and he eased the gun out of its hiding place under the seat, settling it under his hand as he turned onto the street Eliot had given him.
His phone rang and Nate let go of the gun to lift it. "Eliot?"
"I see you. Keep coming, slow down, open the door, don't stop."
Nate slowed way down, reaching over the seat to open the passenger side door. Eliot came out of the shadows between two buildings, limping badly as he ran for the car. Shots rang out and Eliot stumbled, nearly fell. Nate slowed even more, ducking as a man jumped into the street in front of him, shooting.
Eliot's hand was in the car and Nate grabbed it, pulling hard. "Go. Go." Eliot wasn't even fully in the car, his feet dangling out the open door. Nate swerved around the gunman and Eliot kicked the door into him sending him flying.
"Drive. I'm fine." Eliot said when Nate didn't move fast enough. He pulled himself up so that he was sitting instead of laying across the seat, groaning and wincing. He pulled the door shut and leaned back against the seat.
"Eliot. That isn't fine."
Eliot waved his hand dismissively. "Just get me back to my place."
"You need to be in a hospital." Nate tried to divide his attention between the road and Eliot's face.
"No. Just…" He closed his eyes and held his ribs with one hand while the other went to the bleeding wound in his thigh. "Home, okay?"
He wanted to say no, he wanted to argue, but he nodded, and got them on the right road. Eliot's eyes stayed closed and he seemed to drift. Nate tried to get an idea of Eliot's injuries, but when he reached over to check the bleeding in his shoulder, Eliot grunted and pulled away.
He opened his left eye and looked at Nate. "I'm fine."
"Right. You're bleeding all over my seat, but you're fine."
"I've had worse."
Nate stopped the car in front of Eliot's apartment building and started to open the door. "I don't doubt that, but--"
Eliot shook his head, the hand he held up bloody. "I got it. Thanks."
He opened his door and stepped out onto the sidewalk, groaning before sinking slowly to one knee, still holding onto the door.
Nate got out and came around, looking down at him. Eliot rolled his eyes, then nodded and let Nate help him up. Nate pushed the door closed and took as much of Eliot's weight off his leg as he could. The walk to his door was slow and by the time they reached it, Eliot's head lolled against Nate's shoulder.
Nate fished in Eliot's pocket for his keys and got the door opened, hauling Eliot inside over hardwood floors and onto the couch in his living room, settling him onto it before going back to check the hallway and close the door.
"We left a trail of blood out there." Nate said as he squatted in front of Eliot.
"Not the first time." Eliot licked his lips and then grimaced.
"First aid kit?"
"Bathroom. Closet."
"Okay, stay here, I'll be right back." Nate left Eliot and made his way down the hall, turning on the bathroom light. He opened the closet door and whistled low. Where most people kept towels and washcloths, Eliot had shelves of medical supplies. He gathered bandages and antiseptic, a kit of surgical needles and thread, not that he knew what to do with them, but Eliot had sewn him up once. Nate paused, his eyes skipping over pill bottles. He grabbed a bottle of pain meds and went back to the living room.
Eliot's eyes were closed, his head back. If not for the blood and bruises, he'd look almost peaceful. Nate cleared his throat and put the first aid supplies on the coffee table, dragging the table closer.
Eliot dragged in a deep breath and opened his eyes. Nate patted his knees as he perched on the end of the table. "Okay, what's first?"
One blood crusted hand went to Eliot's thigh. "Gunshot. It went all the way through."
Nate nodded. "What about the shoulder?"
Eliot blinked and turned his head slowly. "It's…not as bad."
"Okay, let's get you out of these." Nate's hands went to Eliot's waist, popping the button on his jeans and ignoring the vague smile and eyebrow raise as he worked the pants down, easing them past the oozing wound and down until he had to pause to get Eliot's boots off first.
"Always knew you wanted to get me out of my pants." Eliot joked before he groaned and leaned forward, holding his ribs.
Nate forced himself to focus on the gun shot, which at least seemed to have stopped bleeding. "You going to tell me how this happened?" Nate asked as he started to clean up the wound.
Eliot hissed, then grabbed his hand. "Thought you didn't want to know."
Nate looked up at him. "I have to admit, I'm curious about who or what could do this. To you."
Eliot released him and sat back. "They cheated."
"Cheated." Nate repeated. Clearly there had to be numbers involved and weapons, probably an ambush of some kind.
"Old friends." Eliot's eyes were closed again. He settled back against the couch and let Nate work. "Unfinished business…It was supposed to be a simple trade, you know? I get in, grab the merchandise and get it out of there while the money changed hands."
"But something went wrong?"
Eliot nodded. "They cheated." His eyes opened when Nate poured antiseptic over the wound. "You're gonna have to stitch it."
Nate shook his head. "I've never…"
He smiled vaguely. "Give me a couple of those and I'll walk you through it." Eliot half-heartedly pointed at the bottle. Nate doled out two and handed them over. Eliot swallowed them dry and gestured to the surgical kit. "Thread a needle."
Eliot was quiet while Nate did as he said. When he spoke again, his voice was deeper, slower. "Now, pinch the sides…push the needle through…"
Nate took a deep breath and nodded, his hand hovering over Eliot's thigh. "Are you sure you want me to do this?"
Eliot's face dropped forward, scowling. "Who else is there?"
"Right. Okay…" He licked his lips and brought the needle in close, pinching the wound together with his other hand. When he still hesitated, Eliot's sticky hand closed over his and shoved the needle into his skin. Nate winced, but Eliot didn't, he just sighed and fell back against the couch.
"Just do it."
Three stitches later, the wound was closed and Eliot walked him through tying it off. "Gonna have to do the other side." Eliot grunted as he tried to move so he could lay down.
"Wait. I can…" Nate moved so he was on the floor and lifted Eliot's foot up to his shoulder so he could reach the exit side of the wound. He cleaned it and re-threaded the needle, his hand a little steadier this time around.
Eliot was fading fast when he'd finished, his eyes half closed, his cheeks flushed. "Ribs or shoulder?" Nate asked, making him open his eyes.
Eliot blinked up at him for a few minutes. "Shoulder…dirty."
"Okay." He was going to need to get Eliot's shirt off to get a good look. Judging from the way his eyes rolled shut, Nate probably couldn't expect a whole lot more help from him. He lifted the scissors out of the surgical kit, but hesitated. Not that the shirt wasn't totaled….Nate blew out the breath he was holding and cut up the sleeve, pulling the shirt away from the bloody wound it was sticking to. He kept cutting until he could pull the material away from Eliot's skin and toss it aside.
He wasn't kidding when he said the wound was dirty. It didn't appear to be deep, though it was long, starting near his collarbone and crossing onto the shoulder and arm in a long S-like wound. It was jagged and something that looked like rust dusted his skin along one side, which probably meant it had gotten inside too.
Nate spared a glance at Eliot's chest and the dark purple bruising covering the ribs on both sides. Someone had really worked him over good. He inhaled and told himself to focus.
Eliot stirred as he used gauze and antiseptic to try to clean the wound, picking pieces of his cotton t-shirt out as he went. The wound was deeper over the curve of the shoulder, where it dropped down onto the arm. The blood had begun to crust over and Nate had to pry it open to flush it with the liquid. Eliot yelled and opened his eyes.
"Sorry. Sorry." Eliot's eyes met his, hazy and out of focus. There wasn't much more he could do, so he reached for the antibiotic ointment and bandages. By the time Nate had the shoulder and thigh covered in white, Eliot was breathing softly, his eyes closed. He sighed, nodding. Sleep was only one thing the kid needed.
Nate certainly wasn't getting him up and into bed, but the couch should be fine for now, at least until the pain meds wore off. It looked comfortable enough anyway. It wasn't quite like the rest of the furniture, newer, a little more modern. Nate eased Eliot down onto his back, lifting both legs and setting a pillow under the bandaged thigh.
In this position it was easier to see the bruising on Eliot's face, as his hair slid away off his cheeks. His left eye was black, above and below the eye and that cheek was bright red with blues and purples starting to fill in.
His bottom lip was split and bloody, and was already plump with swelling.
Maybe he'd had worse, but Nate had never seen it. Blood stood out on his chest and hands. Nate went to the bathroom for a washcloth, and into the bedroom for a blanket. He cleaned up the worst of the dried on blood and covered Eliot with the blanket before turning to clean up the mess he'd made.
That done he stood, watching Eliot sleep and unsure of what to do with himself. Doctor or no, Eliot was going to need antibiotics, especially with that shoulder wound. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and ducked into the bedroom so his talking wouldn't wake Eliot.
"Hardison, I need you to get me some drugs." He wasn't about to tell Hardison why, but of all his people, Hardison could get them fastest. "Get me a prescription for some heavy duty painkillers and a strong antibiotic."
"Someone get shot?"
"Hardison, just do whatever it is you did when I needed them. Pharmacy on 11th."
"The twenty-four hour place? Give me ten minutes."
"Thanks." Nate pocketed his phone. He could get the pills and be back before Eliot woke up…make sure he took them before Nate went home and got some sleep himself.
He didn't even realize, until the pharmacy tech pointed it out, that he was wearing a fair amount of Eliot's blood. Nate thanked the man and climbed back into his car, wishing he'd brought the bottle of Scotch with him.
Eliot was still sleeping when he let himself back in and Nate didn't really want to wake him just to pour more pills down his throat, so he set the bottles on the counter in the kitchen and sought out the means to clean up the mess they'd made in the hallway.
It was nearly one in the morning when he let himself back into the apartment, emptying the bucket and rinsing out the sink. He washed his own hands and pulled his shirt off, soaking it in a hope of salvaging it eventually. He left it in the sink with a little soap he found under the sink, then slipped his shoes off so they wouldn't sound out against the hardwood floors.
Eliot's clothes would be a little tight on him, but Nate figured he could find something that would hold him over until he headed for home. He padded into the bedroom, sliding open the closet. It was neater than he imagined, not quite color coded and all like some people he knew, but orderly, in it's own way.
Not that there was a lot of variety. He found an old zip up sweatshirt that looked big enough and pulled it on, turning to look at the rest of the room now that the immediate crisis had passed. He had to admit he didn't know much about the man, at least not much more than his folder told him, and that was filled with as much misinformation as information, because Eliot was, if nothing else, his reputation.
Eliot's bed wasn't anything special, not even rightly made, though the blanket had been smoothed over the top before Nate had ripped it off to cover Eliot with. Two pillows. Nate had four, but two of them usually substituted for whoever wasn't in his bed. He couldn't sleep if the other side of the bed was empty.
There was some picture with horses over the bed, though Nate could tell from across the room it wasn't valuable. No, Eliot wouldn't keep valuable pieces here…if he spent money on art, or anything worth spending money on, it was someplace safe, someplace he wouldn't have to worry about leaving it behind when he had to run.
Furniture was sparse throughout the place. A small bookshelf stood in one corner of the bedroom, with pictures scattered across the top. Nate lifted one of Eliot and Amy, smiling a little. The two of them had looked good together. Somehow seeing them together, seeing Eliot with her had made Nate uncomfortable. He hadn't thought much about why.
He wasn't about to start in the middle of the night with not enough sleep and not enough alcohol and in the middle of a slow crash off of the adrenaline of earlier. He set the picture down amid the others that seemed to be more animals than people, a couple of horses, a golden lab, then there was a young boy that looked enough like Eliot to be a brother.
Nate heard Eliot cough, then groan and when he came out of the bedroom, he found Eliot trying to get up off the couch. "Whoa there cowboy." Nate got there in time to keep him laying down, but ended up with his hands on parts of Eliot's anatomy he'd never expected to touch. There was a flush to his skin, a heat that wasn't normal, and could herald the start of a fever.. He pulled his hands away as soon as he was sure that Eliot wasn't going to keep trying.
"Hey, I got you some meds. Stay put." He went to the kitchen for the pills and a glass of water. To his surprise, Eliot didn't argue and didn't ask, just took the pills and laid back down.
Nate hovered, torn between checking bandages and saying goodbye and unable to do either. Eliot looked up at him, some expression Nate couldn't read passing over his face. "You don't have to stay."
"I know…I just…you feel warm. Could be infection." He waved absently at the shoulder.
"I told you. I've had worse."
"You're ribs are broken. You should get them taped up." He sort of reached for the pile of first aid things on the table, but Eliot's eyes were already drifting shut again. "Or…you could sleep and we'll do it later." Nate reached down to pull the blanket up over his nearly naked body again, his hand brushing over Eliot's hard stomach. He froze, hoping Eliot didn't notice the way his hand lingered.
When Eliot didn't respond, Nate breathed out and his hand moved up, brushing hair out of Eliot's face. There was a soft whimper and Nate let his hand caress over his cheek before he pulled away, flushed and blushing. That wasn't why he was there. In fact, that was probably why he should go.
But Nate didn't go anywhere.
He sank into the broken in leather recliner, watching Eliot's face tighten, then relax again. Tired dragged on him, reminding him he'd been up since before dawn the day before and he wasn't as young as he used to be, and now that the adrenaline was fading…Nate closed his eyes, settling into the comfortable old chair.
"Nate?" He opened his eyes to find Eliot looking at him, his eyes bright. "Thanks."
The corners of Nate's mouth turn up softly and he nods. "You're welcome."
It's quiet a while longer and Nate starts to drift again. "Nate?"
Nate sighs and opens his eyes once more. Eliot's eyes are barely open now, the drugs pulling him toward sleep. "Could we not tell the others?"
"On one condition."
Eliot's eyes rolled open and he looked at Nate. "You tell me?"
Eliot nodded slowly. "Morning."
"Not a word." Nate promised. "Sleep. I'll make you breakfast."
He wasn't sure when he'd decided he was spending the night, but he couldn't leave Eliot now, not until he was sure the stubborn fool wouldn't need better medical care than his.
"So, you told me it was unfinished business." Nate prompted as he put coffee on the table. Eliot looked a whole lot better than he'd expected, bruised, pale and he made faces and winced a lot…but still, Nate had half expected to find them headed for an ER by morning.
He went back to the stove where he had scrambled eggs cooking.
"Like I said, in, out and gone. But these guys cheated."
"You said that too."
Eliot huffed and held his taped up ribs as he shifted in the chair. "There's a guy, in Singapore. We have history."
Nate didn't respond, just turned to look at him.
"Not our first rodeo."
"Looks like he was the bull this time." Nate observed, earning a roll of Eliot's eyes.
"Him and twelve guys, two machine guns and some rusted out farm equipment." Eliot lifted his mug of coffee, sipped and made a disgusted face. "You call this coffee?"
"Farm equipment?"
Eliot deflated as much as his ribs would allow. "I retrieved a statue fifteen years ago. He wants it back."
Nate got the impression there was a whole lot more to the story, but that this was all he was getting. He served up a plate of eggs and put it in front of Eliot. "Breakfast."
He was about to put more eggs on a second plate when his phone rang. He glanced at the caller id and lifted the phone. "Hardison?"
"I think you better get down here. We have a small problem."
"How small?"
"Ten to Twenty."
"I'm on my way." He hung up and shook his head. "I have to go."
"Problems?"
"Apparently one of my other criminals is in trouble. You going to be okay on your own?"
Eliot quirked a half smile. "I'll be fine, Dad. Go take care of the kiddies."
"I can come by later." Nate took a hesitant step closer, reluctant somehow to leave.
"Why?" Eliot asked, almost breathlessly.
He was too close, Nate knew it and couldn't step back. "Unfinished business?"
Eliot cleared his throat and nodded. "Okay."
"Okay." Nate nodded too and the movement seemed to free him. "I'll…I'll call you." This was stupid. It wasn't like some strained one night stand he was escaping from…there was no awkward drunken sex to want to run away and hide from. Finally, he grabbed for his coat and left.
It was nothing. Concern for a friend. Only he'd told Eliot that they weren't friends…and maybe what he wanted from Eliot wasn't friendship. Nate felt the blush climb up from his toes as he climbed into the car. He wondered idly which of the girls was in trouble and what it would take to get them out of it, not to mention what story he was going to have to tell about Eliot…or his late night call to Hardison, or his need for the pills.
He exhaled and pulled out into traffic. One thing at a time. Eliot was safe for the moment. And for the moment, that would have to be enough.
Title: Unfinished Business
Characters/Pairings: Nate, Eliot, Hardison (sort of Nate/Eliot pre-slash)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 3960
Summary: Nate gets a call from a wounded and trapped Eliot who only wants a ride home, but Nate can't just leave him once he realizes just how wounded Eliot is.
A/Ns & Warnings: This was meant to go slashy places. It didn't. It has the early warning signs of slash to come. Still not sure I got the character voices and stuff right, but it's my first go at the fandom...so...features wounded!Eliot and confused!Nate, prescription drugs (illegally obtained), various wounds, and a little bit of schloomp.
It was well after 10 pm and considering they hadn't had a case in a few days, there was no real reason Nate was sitting in his office contemplating the bottle of Scotch on his desk. He wasn't feeling compelled to open it though, he just was not ready to go home to an empty apartment.
Not that the empty office was all that much better. Okay, it also wasn't completely empty. Nearly everyone was off working at…whatever it was they worked at when Nate wasn't supervising. All except Hardison, who Nate was beginning to suspect slept on that overstuffed couch he bought for his office when he actually slept. The guy was always there, any time Nate showed up, doing something, playing with his high tech gadgets.
Nate sighed and put the bottle away. There was no point. Starting now would only make going home harder. He stood, grabbing for his jacket. He was three steps from the door when the phone in his pocket rang. Eliot's name flashed on the screen. Nate pressed the button to connect and lifted the phone to his ear. When nothing but air greeted him, he pulled the phone away to make sure it connected. "Eliot?"
There was harsh breathing and what sounded like a groan.
"Eliot? Are you okay?"
"Yeah," he said finally. "Need a lift."
"Where are you?" Nate crossed to his desk to grab a pen. When Eliot gave him the address, Nate frowned. "What are you doing-never mind. I don't want to know."
And he didn't. Whatever his team did when they weren't working a case was up to them. Period. He didn't ever want to know.
"I can be there in a half hour."
"Sooner is better." Eliot hung up.
Nate stared at his phone, wondering what Eliot had gotten himself into that he would call Nate for a ride…not to mention what had happened to his own ride. Nate shook his head and headed out, ignoring Hardison's startled yell when he turned out the lights and smiling to himself as he climbed into his car.
"Sooner is better."
The smile faded as Nate pulled out onto the nearly empty streets and considered the strain in Eliot's voice. Of course, it was difficult to tell if there was something wrong. Eliot's voice always sounded a little constrained, unless he was angry…or the game called for yelling.
Still…it wasn't like Eliot. Nate sped up and turned down the street that would take him out of respectable downtown, through the rough industrial neighborhood and into the dark, narrow streets where even police only came in numbers. Leave it to Eliot to get himself stranded in a place like this.
Nate watched the streets around him, lined with broken down old tenements and burned out shop fronts. The streets seemed empty, but for a small gang of boys on one street corner smoking and trying to convince each other they were tough. The quiet itself was unsettling. This was gang territory, drugs and crime a way of life. The streets were usually filled with punks and gangsters, whores and wanna-be bad-guys, but it seemed no one was around.
But, somewhere out here was Eliot…and probably plenty of trouble. Not from your average street gang either. Not with Eliot. Okay, so maybe Nate was a little bit worried now. The hair on the back of his neck was standing up and he eased the gun out of its hiding place under the seat, settling it under his hand as he turned onto the street Eliot had given him.
His phone rang and Nate let go of the gun to lift it. "Eliot?"
"I see you. Keep coming, slow down, open the door, don't stop."
Nate slowed way down, reaching over the seat to open the passenger side door. Eliot came out of the shadows between two buildings, limping badly as he ran for the car. Shots rang out and Eliot stumbled, nearly fell. Nate slowed even more, ducking as a man jumped into the street in front of him, shooting.
Eliot's hand was in the car and Nate grabbed it, pulling hard. "Go. Go." Eliot wasn't even fully in the car, his feet dangling out the open door. Nate swerved around the gunman and Eliot kicked the door into him sending him flying.
"Drive. I'm fine." Eliot said when Nate didn't move fast enough. He pulled himself up so that he was sitting instead of laying across the seat, groaning and wincing. He pulled the door shut and leaned back against the seat.
"Eliot. That isn't fine."
Eliot waved his hand dismissively. "Just get me back to my place."
"You need to be in a hospital." Nate tried to divide his attention between the road and Eliot's face.
"No. Just…" He closed his eyes and held his ribs with one hand while the other went to the bleeding wound in his thigh. "Home, okay?"
He wanted to say no, he wanted to argue, but he nodded, and got them on the right road. Eliot's eyes stayed closed and he seemed to drift. Nate tried to get an idea of Eliot's injuries, but when he reached over to check the bleeding in his shoulder, Eliot grunted and pulled away.
He opened his left eye and looked at Nate. "I'm fine."
"Right. You're bleeding all over my seat, but you're fine."
"I've had worse."
Nate stopped the car in front of Eliot's apartment building and started to open the door. "I don't doubt that, but--"
Eliot shook his head, the hand he held up bloody. "I got it. Thanks."
He opened his door and stepped out onto the sidewalk, groaning before sinking slowly to one knee, still holding onto the door.
Nate got out and came around, looking down at him. Eliot rolled his eyes, then nodded and let Nate help him up. Nate pushed the door closed and took as much of Eliot's weight off his leg as he could. The walk to his door was slow and by the time they reached it, Eliot's head lolled against Nate's shoulder.
Nate fished in Eliot's pocket for his keys and got the door opened, hauling Eliot inside over hardwood floors and onto the couch in his living room, settling him onto it before going back to check the hallway and close the door.
"We left a trail of blood out there." Nate said as he squatted in front of Eliot.
"Not the first time." Eliot licked his lips and then grimaced.
"First aid kit?"
"Bathroom. Closet."
"Okay, stay here, I'll be right back." Nate left Eliot and made his way down the hall, turning on the bathroom light. He opened the closet door and whistled low. Where most people kept towels and washcloths, Eliot had shelves of medical supplies. He gathered bandages and antiseptic, a kit of surgical needles and thread, not that he knew what to do with them, but Eliot had sewn him up once. Nate paused, his eyes skipping over pill bottles. He grabbed a bottle of pain meds and went back to the living room.
Eliot's eyes were closed, his head back. If not for the blood and bruises, he'd look almost peaceful. Nate cleared his throat and put the first aid supplies on the coffee table, dragging the table closer.
Eliot dragged in a deep breath and opened his eyes. Nate patted his knees as he perched on the end of the table. "Okay, what's first?"
One blood crusted hand went to Eliot's thigh. "Gunshot. It went all the way through."
Nate nodded. "What about the shoulder?"
Eliot blinked and turned his head slowly. "It's…not as bad."
"Okay, let's get you out of these." Nate's hands went to Eliot's waist, popping the button on his jeans and ignoring the vague smile and eyebrow raise as he worked the pants down, easing them past the oozing wound and down until he had to pause to get Eliot's boots off first.
"Always knew you wanted to get me out of my pants." Eliot joked before he groaned and leaned forward, holding his ribs.
Nate forced himself to focus on the gun shot, which at least seemed to have stopped bleeding. "You going to tell me how this happened?" Nate asked as he started to clean up the wound.
Eliot hissed, then grabbed his hand. "Thought you didn't want to know."
Nate looked up at him. "I have to admit, I'm curious about who or what could do this. To you."
Eliot released him and sat back. "They cheated."
"Cheated." Nate repeated. Clearly there had to be numbers involved and weapons, probably an ambush of some kind.
"Old friends." Eliot's eyes were closed again. He settled back against the couch and let Nate work. "Unfinished business…It was supposed to be a simple trade, you know? I get in, grab the merchandise and get it out of there while the money changed hands."
"But something went wrong?"
Eliot nodded. "They cheated." His eyes opened when Nate poured antiseptic over the wound. "You're gonna have to stitch it."
Nate shook his head. "I've never…"
He smiled vaguely. "Give me a couple of those and I'll walk you through it." Eliot half-heartedly pointed at the bottle. Nate doled out two and handed them over. Eliot swallowed them dry and gestured to the surgical kit. "Thread a needle."
Eliot was quiet while Nate did as he said. When he spoke again, his voice was deeper, slower. "Now, pinch the sides…push the needle through…"
Nate took a deep breath and nodded, his hand hovering over Eliot's thigh. "Are you sure you want me to do this?"
Eliot's face dropped forward, scowling. "Who else is there?"
"Right. Okay…" He licked his lips and brought the needle in close, pinching the wound together with his other hand. When he still hesitated, Eliot's sticky hand closed over his and shoved the needle into his skin. Nate winced, but Eliot didn't, he just sighed and fell back against the couch.
"Just do it."
Three stitches later, the wound was closed and Eliot walked him through tying it off. "Gonna have to do the other side." Eliot grunted as he tried to move so he could lay down.
"Wait. I can…" Nate moved so he was on the floor and lifted Eliot's foot up to his shoulder so he could reach the exit side of the wound. He cleaned it and re-threaded the needle, his hand a little steadier this time around.
Eliot was fading fast when he'd finished, his eyes half closed, his cheeks flushed. "Ribs or shoulder?" Nate asked, making him open his eyes.
Eliot blinked up at him for a few minutes. "Shoulder…dirty."
"Okay." He was going to need to get Eliot's shirt off to get a good look. Judging from the way his eyes rolled shut, Nate probably couldn't expect a whole lot more help from him. He lifted the scissors out of the surgical kit, but hesitated. Not that the shirt wasn't totaled….Nate blew out the breath he was holding and cut up the sleeve, pulling the shirt away from the bloody wound it was sticking to. He kept cutting until he could pull the material away from Eliot's skin and toss it aside.
He wasn't kidding when he said the wound was dirty. It didn't appear to be deep, though it was long, starting near his collarbone and crossing onto the shoulder and arm in a long S-like wound. It was jagged and something that looked like rust dusted his skin along one side, which probably meant it had gotten inside too.
Nate spared a glance at Eliot's chest and the dark purple bruising covering the ribs on both sides. Someone had really worked him over good. He inhaled and told himself to focus.
Eliot stirred as he used gauze and antiseptic to try to clean the wound, picking pieces of his cotton t-shirt out as he went. The wound was deeper over the curve of the shoulder, where it dropped down onto the arm. The blood had begun to crust over and Nate had to pry it open to flush it with the liquid. Eliot yelled and opened his eyes.
"Sorry. Sorry." Eliot's eyes met his, hazy and out of focus. There wasn't much more he could do, so he reached for the antibiotic ointment and bandages. By the time Nate had the shoulder and thigh covered in white, Eliot was breathing softly, his eyes closed. He sighed, nodding. Sleep was only one thing the kid needed.
Nate certainly wasn't getting him up and into bed, but the couch should be fine for now, at least until the pain meds wore off. It looked comfortable enough anyway. It wasn't quite like the rest of the furniture, newer, a little more modern. Nate eased Eliot down onto his back, lifting both legs and setting a pillow under the bandaged thigh.
In this position it was easier to see the bruising on Eliot's face, as his hair slid away off his cheeks. His left eye was black, above and below the eye and that cheek was bright red with blues and purples starting to fill in.
His bottom lip was split and bloody, and was already plump with swelling.
Maybe he'd had worse, but Nate had never seen it. Blood stood out on his chest and hands. Nate went to the bathroom for a washcloth, and into the bedroom for a blanket. He cleaned up the worst of the dried on blood and covered Eliot with the blanket before turning to clean up the mess he'd made.
That done he stood, watching Eliot sleep and unsure of what to do with himself. Doctor or no, Eliot was going to need antibiotics, especially with that shoulder wound. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and ducked into the bedroom so his talking wouldn't wake Eliot.
"Hardison, I need you to get me some drugs." He wasn't about to tell Hardison why, but of all his people, Hardison could get them fastest. "Get me a prescription for some heavy duty painkillers and a strong antibiotic."
"Someone get shot?"
"Hardison, just do whatever it is you did when I needed them. Pharmacy on 11th."
"The twenty-four hour place? Give me ten minutes."
"Thanks." Nate pocketed his phone. He could get the pills and be back before Eliot woke up…make sure he took them before Nate went home and got some sleep himself.
He didn't even realize, until the pharmacy tech pointed it out, that he was wearing a fair amount of Eliot's blood. Nate thanked the man and climbed back into his car, wishing he'd brought the bottle of Scotch with him.
Eliot was still sleeping when he let himself back in and Nate didn't really want to wake him just to pour more pills down his throat, so he set the bottles on the counter in the kitchen and sought out the means to clean up the mess they'd made in the hallway.
It was nearly one in the morning when he let himself back into the apartment, emptying the bucket and rinsing out the sink. He washed his own hands and pulled his shirt off, soaking it in a hope of salvaging it eventually. He left it in the sink with a little soap he found under the sink, then slipped his shoes off so they wouldn't sound out against the hardwood floors.
Eliot's clothes would be a little tight on him, but Nate figured he could find something that would hold him over until he headed for home. He padded into the bedroom, sliding open the closet. It was neater than he imagined, not quite color coded and all like some people he knew, but orderly, in it's own way.
Not that there was a lot of variety. He found an old zip up sweatshirt that looked big enough and pulled it on, turning to look at the rest of the room now that the immediate crisis had passed. He had to admit he didn't know much about the man, at least not much more than his folder told him, and that was filled with as much misinformation as information, because Eliot was, if nothing else, his reputation.
Eliot's bed wasn't anything special, not even rightly made, though the blanket had been smoothed over the top before Nate had ripped it off to cover Eliot with. Two pillows. Nate had four, but two of them usually substituted for whoever wasn't in his bed. He couldn't sleep if the other side of the bed was empty.
There was some picture with horses over the bed, though Nate could tell from across the room it wasn't valuable. No, Eliot wouldn't keep valuable pieces here…if he spent money on art, or anything worth spending money on, it was someplace safe, someplace he wouldn't have to worry about leaving it behind when he had to run.
Furniture was sparse throughout the place. A small bookshelf stood in one corner of the bedroom, with pictures scattered across the top. Nate lifted one of Eliot and Amy, smiling a little. The two of them had looked good together. Somehow seeing them together, seeing Eliot with her had made Nate uncomfortable. He hadn't thought much about why.
He wasn't about to start in the middle of the night with not enough sleep and not enough alcohol and in the middle of a slow crash off of the adrenaline of earlier. He set the picture down amid the others that seemed to be more animals than people, a couple of horses, a golden lab, then there was a young boy that looked enough like Eliot to be a brother.
Nate heard Eliot cough, then groan and when he came out of the bedroom, he found Eliot trying to get up off the couch. "Whoa there cowboy." Nate got there in time to keep him laying down, but ended up with his hands on parts of Eliot's anatomy he'd never expected to touch. There was a flush to his skin, a heat that wasn't normal, and could herald the start of a fever.. He pulled his hands away as soon as he was sure that Eliot wasn't going to keep trying.
"Hey, I got you some meds. Stay put." He went to the kitchen for the pills and a glass of water. To his surprise, Eliot didn't argue and didn't ask, just took the pills and laid back down.
Nate hovered, torn between checking bandages and saying goodbye and unable to do either. Eliot looked up at him, some expression Nate couldn't read passing over his face. "You don't have to stay."
"I know…I just…you feel warm. Could be infection." He waved absently at the shoulder.
"I told you. I've had worse."
"You're ribs are broken. You should get them taped up." He sort of reached for the pile of first aid things on the table, but Eliot's eyes were already drifting shut again. "Or…you could sleep and we'll do it later." Nate reached down to pull the blanket up over his nearly naked body again, his hand brushing over Eliot's hard stomach. He froze, hoping Eliot didn't notice the way his hand lingered.
When Eliot didn't respond, Nate breathed out and his hand moved up, brushing hair out of Eliot's face. There was a soft whimper and Nate let his hand caress over his cheek before he pulled away, flushed and blushing. That wasn't why he was there. In fact, that was probably why he should go.
But Nate didn't go anywhere.
He sank into the broken in leather recliner, watching Eliot's face tighten, then relax again. Tired dragged on him, reminding him he'd been up since before dawn the day before and he wasn't as young as he used to be, and now that the adrenaline was fading…Nate closed his eyes, settling into the comfortable old chair.
"Nate?" He opened his eyes to find Eliot looking at him, his eyes bright. "Thanks."
The corners of Nate's mouth turn up softly and he nods. "You're welcome."
It's quiet a while longer and Nate starts to drift again. "Nate?"
Nate sighs and opens his eyes once more. Eliot's eyes are barely open now, the drugs pulling him toward sleep. "Could we not tell the others?"
"On one condition."
Eliot's eyes rolled open and he looked at Nate. "You tell me?"
Eliot nodded slowly. "Morning."
"Not a word." Nate promised. "Sleep. I'll make you breakfast."
He wasn't sure when he'd decided he was spending the night, but he couldn't leave Eliot now, not until he was sure the stubborn fool wouldn't need better medical care than his.
"So, you told me it was unfinished business." Nate prompted as he put coffee on the table. Eliot looked a whole lot better than he'd expected, bruised, pale and he made faces and winced a lot…but still, Nate had half expected to find them headed for an ER by morning.
He went back to the stove where he had scrambled eggs cooking.
"Like I said, in, out and gone. But these guys cheated."
"You said that too."
Eliot huffed and held his taped up ribs as he shifted in the chair. "There's a guy, in Singapore. We have history."
Nate didn't respond, just turned to look at him.
"Not our first rodeo."
"Looks like he was the bull this time." Nate observed, earning a roll of Eliot's eyes.
"Him and twelve guys, two machine guns and some rusted out farm equipment." Eliot lifted his mug of coffee, sipped and made a disgusted face. "You call this coffee?"
"Farm equipment?"
Eliot deflated as much as his ribs would allow. "I retrieved a statue fifteen years ago. He wants it back."
Nate got the impression there was a whole lot more to the story, but that this was all he was getting. He served up a plate of eggs and put it in front of Eliot. "Breakfast."
He was about to put more eggs on a second plate when his phone rang. He glanced at the caller id and lifted the phone. "Hardison?"
"I think you better get down here. We have a small problem."
"How small?"
"Ten to Twenty."
"I'm on my way." He hung up and shook his head. "I have to go."
"Problems?"
"Apparently one of my other criminals is in trouble. You going to be okay on your own?"
Eliot quirked a half smile. "I'll be fine, Dad. Go take care of the kiddies."
"I can come by later." Nate took a hesitant step closer, reluctant somehow to leave.
"Why?" Eliot asked, almost breathlessly.
He was too close, Nate knew it and couldn't step back. "Unfinished business?"
Eliot cleared his throat and nodded. "Okay."
"Okay." Nate nodded too and the movement seemed to free him. "I'll…I'll call you." This was stupid. It wasn't like some strained one night stand he was escaping from…there was no awkward drunken sex to want to run away and hide from. Finally, he grabbed for his coat and left.
It was nothing. Concern for a friend. Only he'd told Eliot that they weren't friends…and maybe what he wanted from Eliot wasn't friendship. Nate felt the blush climb up from his toes as he climbed into the car. He wondered idly which of the girls was in trouble and what it would take to get them out of it, not to mention what story he was going to have to tell about Eliot…or his late night call to Hardison, or his need for the pills.
He exhaled and pulled out into traffic. One thing at a time. Eliot was safe for the moment. And for the moment, that would have to be enough.