Hitting the Hay, Leverage FanFic
Posted this on AO3 but forgot about posting it here...
TITLE: Hitting the Hay
RATING: PG-ish
WORD COUNT: ~1050
CHARACTERS: Alec Hardison/Eliot Spencer
WARNINGS: Some language. References to a violent past.
SUMMARY: Missing scene for 4x11 - The Experimental Job. The adrenaline's worn off and Eliot's just ready to crash.
AO3 Link | Master Fic List
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Author's Notes: Written for sheryden as part of fandom_stocking. Just a brief Alec/Eliot hurt/comfort-y scene.
Could probably be read as pre-Alec/Eliot/Parker if you'd like.
-----------------------------
The adrenaline had mostly been worked off in setting up the fake interrogation room and Eliot had left campus already feeling tired. He’d taken a shower at the temporary house they’d set up for the vets, but once he was clean he could no longer ignore the urge to seek out Hardison, to confirm with his own eyes what Nate and Parker had tried to assure him of (“He’s fine.” “He wouldn’t even let me pour frozen peas on his face!”).
Eliot let himself in, knowing from long experience that Hardison rarely heard when someone knocked on his door, often too wrapped up in whatever was on his computer screen (whether it was research or the latest video game).
The apartment was quiet - a rarity. Eliot would have been concerned, but he quickly spotted the Hacker stretched out on the couch, an ice-pack balanced on his jaw. The younger man cracked open one eye to watch Eliot as he walked further into the room.
“Hey,” he croaked.
“Hey,” Eliot mumbled back. God, he was exhausted. The last of the adrenaline was finally running out of his system. Hardison seemed to read his mind, shifting over carefully on the couch to make room. It wasn’t really big enough for two grown men to fit on, but Eliot gave in enough to sit on the edge near Hardison’s hip. It was warm in that space, at least. Bracing a hand against the back of the couch, Eliot leaned down to press a soft kiss to Hardison’s lips.
Hardison was frowning up at him when he sat back. “You okay, man?” he asked quietly.
Eliot fought the urge to roll his eyes. There hadn’t been many people in his life who took the time to ask such things - he probably shouldn’t alienate the few who did. “You’re the one who got his ass kicked by a bunch of frat boys,” he said with a snort.
“Hey; they were members of a secret society. Secret, man. They probably have mutant super powers.”
Eliot did roll his eyes then. “Parker take off?” he asked before Hardison could go off on a rant.
Hardison sighed. “Yeah; you know she’s not good with this stuff.” Eliot thought that was an understatement. “She tried, though. She’s getting good at the trying thing.”
“Yeah man, I know,” Eliot said softly to ease the defensive tone that had crept into Hardison’s voice. “You ready for bed?”
“You didn’t answer my question,” Hardison said and Eliot cursed internally when he noticed the stubborn glint in the other man’s eye.
“I’m fine, Hardison,” Eliot grunted. “Just tired,” he added at Hardison’s doubting look. “Remember the whole thing with the sleep deprivation?”
“I heard the playback on your talk with the interrogator,” Hardison admitted quietly.
Eliot felt a brief pang of fear. What if what Hardison had heard had been the last straw? What if the Hacker had decided what he knew of Eliot had finally crossed that thin line between acceptable and horrifying? It wasn’t like Eliot could actually apologize for anything.
But when Eliot forced himself to meet Hardison’s gaze again, he saw only concern. It took the Hitter a second to realize Hardison was concerned for Eliot’s sake, not his own or anyone else’s.
“I...” Eliot began before hesitating. Hardison’s hand was warm on his knee: not poking him into discussion, just...offering support.
“Look, man, I made peace with what I do a long time ago,” Eliot finally admitted. “I had to. I don’t enjoy it, but I do it because other people can’t. What I told that asshole? That’s just part of it.”
Hardison gave Eliot’s knee a gentle squeeze. “I get it, El...”
“No, you don’t,” Eliot said firmly, interrupting. That got another flash of stubbornness from the younger man, but then Hardison’s expression softened as he patted Eliot’s knee.
“Okay, so maybe not,” he conceded. “But I trust you - and if you say you’re good, you’re good. But if you’re ever not good, you know I’m here, right? Whatever skeletons you got in your closet ain’t gonna scare me off.”
Eliot wasn’t entirely sure on the truthfulness of that one...but he knew if anyone on the team ever managed to unearth his actual record, Hardison would be it. There was a chance, however slim, that Hardison already knew all about him.
Eliot bent down to press another kiss to Hardison’s mouth. “Ready for bed?” he asked again. He sighed at Hardison’s expression. “I hear ya, man. You’re not afraid of me. Can we just go to bed already? We’ve only got a few hours before Zilgram wakes up and I just wanna crash out until then.”
With a grunt, Hardison pushed himself upright. He leaned into Eliot for a deeper kiss before he pulled back with a wince, one hand going up to touch his split lip. “Ow,” he muttered.
“C’mon, dustman,” Eliot said getting to his feet and pulling Hardison up with him.
Hardison let out a groan as they started a shuffle toward the bedroom. “You gonna give me a famous Eliot Spencer rubdown?” he asked.
Eliot scoffed as he let Hardison drop on the bed. “You’re gonna be lucky if I manage to get my boots off before I pass out,” he said, trying to sound apologetic. “I’ll do you in the morning.” He managed his boots and his shirt, but his jeans seemed to be too much work.
Hardison’s grin was bright in the dimly lit room when Eliot focused his attention back on him. “I’m gonna hold you to that,” Hardison murmured, pulling Eliot close. He was warm and familiar and Eliot could already feel his eyelids drooping shut. “We good?”
Eliot lifted his head enough to meet Hardison’s gaze in the dark. “Yeah; we’re good.” He pressed one more kiss to the unsplit corner of Hardison’s mouth before he gently pulled the battered man down on the mattress with him.
He wasn’t worried about waking up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat or of lashing out unconsciously at Hardison. Eliot dealt with his demons consciously on a daily basis. He settled against Hardison, secure in his ability to claim a good night’s sleep for himself. Even with a bedmate who kicked and hogged the covers.
/end
TITLE: Hitting the Hay
RATING: PG-ish
WORD COUNT: ~1050
CHARACTERS: Alec Hardison/Eliot Spencer
WARNINGS: Some language. References to a violent past.
SUMMARY: Missing scene for 4x11 - The Experimental Job. The adrenaline's worn off and Eliot's just ready to crash.
AO3 Link | Master Fic List
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Author's Notes: Written for sheryden as part of fandom_stocking. Just a brief Alec/Eliot hurt/comfort-y scene.
Could probably be read as pre-Alec/Eliot/Parker if you'd like.
-----------------------------
The adrenaline had mostly been worked off in setting up the fake interrogation room and Eliot had left campus already feeling tired. He’d taken a shower at the temporary house they’d set up for the vets, but once he was clean he could no longer ignore the urge to seek out Hardison, to confirm with his own eyes what Nate and Parker had tried to assure him of (“He’s fine.” “He wouldn’t even let me pour frozen peas on his face!”).
Eliot let himself in, knowing from long experience that Hardison rarely heard when someone knocked on his door, often too wrapped up in whatever was on his computer screen (whether it was research or the latest video game).
The apartment was quiet - a rarity. Eliot would have been concerned, but he quickly spotted the Hacker stretched out on the couch, an ice-pack balanced on his jaw. The younger man cracked open one eye to watch Eliot as he walked further into the room.
“Hey,” he croaked.
“Hey,” Eliot mumbled back. God, he was exhausted. The last of the adrenaline was finally running out of his system. Hardison seemed to read his mind, shifting over carefully on the couch to make room. It wasn’t really big enough for two grown men to fit on, but Eliot gave in enough to sit on the edge near Hardison’s hip. It was warm in that space, at least. Bracing a hand against the back of the couch, Eliot leaned down to press a soft kiss to Hardison’s lips.
Hardison was frowning up at him when he sat back. “You okay, man?” he asked quietly.
Eliot fought the urge to roll his eyes. There hadn’t been many people in his life who took the time to ask such things - he probably shouldn’t alienate the few who did. “You’re the one who got his ass kicked by a bunch of frat boys,” he said with a snort.
“Hey; they were members of a secret society. Secret, man. They probably have mutant super powers.”
Eliot did roll his eyes then. “Parker take off?” he asked before Hardison could go off on a rant.
Hardison sighed. “Yeah; you know she’s not good with this stuff.” Eliot thought that was an understatement. “She tried, though. She’s getting good at the trying thing.”
“Yeah man, I know,” Eliot said softly to ease the defensive tone that had crept into Hardison’s voice. “You ready for bed?”
“You didn’t answer my question,” Hardison said and Eliot cursed internally when he noticed the stubborn glint in the other man’s eye.
“I’m fine, Hardison,” Eliot grunted. “Just tired,” he added at Hardison’s doubting look. “Remember the whole thing with the sleep deprivation?”
“I heard the playback on your talk with the interrogator,” Hardison admitted quietly.
Eliot felt a brief pang of fear. What if what Hardison had heard had been the last straw? What if the Hacker had decided what he knew of Eliot had finally crossed that thin line between acceptable and horrifying? It wasn’t like Eliot could actually apologize for anything.
But when Eliot forced himself to meet Hardison’s gaze again, he saw only concern. It took the Hitter a second to realize Hardison was concerned for Eliot’s sake, not his own or anyone else’s.
“I...” Eliot began before hesitating. Hardison’s hand was warm on his knee: not poking him into discussion, just...offering support.
“Look, man, I made peace with what I do a long time ago,” Eliot finally admitted. “I had to. I don’t enjoy it, but I do it because other people can’t. What I told that asshole? That’s just part of it.”
Hardison gave Eliot’s knee a gentle squeeze. “I get it, El...”
“No, you don’t,” Eliot said firmly, interrupting. That got another flash of stubbornness from the younger man, but then Hardison’s expression softened as he patted Eliot’s knee.
“Okay, so maybe not,” he conceded. “But I trust you - and if you say you’re good, you’re good. But if you’re ever not good, you know I’m here, right? Whatever skeletons you got in your closet ain’t gonna scare me off.”
Eliot wasn’t entirely sure on the truthfulness of that one...but he knew if anyone on the team ever managed to unearth his actual record, Hardison would be it. There was a chance, however slim, that Hardison already knew all about him.
Eliot bent down to press another kiss to Hardison’s mouth. “Ready for bed?” he asked again. He sighed at Hardison’s expression. “I hear ya, man. You’re not afraid of me. Can we just go to bed already? We’ve only got a few hours before Zilgram wakes up and I just wanna crash out until then.”
With a grunt, Hardison pushed himself upright. He leaned into Eliot for a deeper kiss before he pulled back with a wince, one hand going up to touch his split lip. “Ow,” he muttered.
“C’mon, dustman,” Eliot said getting to his feet and pulling Hardison up with him.
Hardison let out a groan as they started a shuffle toward the bedroom. “You gonna give me a famous Eliot Spencer rubdown?” he asked.
Eliot scoffed as he let Hardison drop on the bed. “You’re gonna be lucky if I manage to get my boots off before I pass out,” he said, trying to sound apologetic. “I’ll do you in the morning.” He managed his boots and his shirt, but his jeans seemed to be too much work.
Hardison’s grin was bright in the dimly lit room when Eliot focused his attention back on him. “I’m gonna hold you to that,” Hardison murmured, pulling Eliot close. He was warm and familiar and Eliot could already feel his eyelids drooping shut. “We good?”
Eliot lifted his head enough to meet Hardison’s gaze in the dark. “Yeah; we’re good.” He pressed one more kiss to the unsplit corner of Hardison’s mouth before he gently pulled the battered man down on the mattress with him.
He wasn’t worried about waking up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat or of lashing out unconsciously at Hardison. Eliot dealt with his demons consciously on a daily basis. He settled against Hardison, secure in his ability to claim a good night’s sleep for himself. Even with a bedmate who kicked and hogged the covers.
/end