Fic: Different
Title: Different
Fandom: Leverage
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Written for this prompt: Eliot and Parker run into one of her fosters on a con.
Eliot didn’t think before his right hand got the wrong side of the bastard’s teeth. He hadn’t needed conscious thought before a fight in a long time and his hands were scarred enough that no one would notice new ones. All it had taken was the look on her face and he knew - and then the bastard was on the ground.
They were just supposed to be on a goddamned coffee run. Sophie was sweet talking the mark, sounding like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, and Hardison was doing something with the mark’s bank accounts. Eliot tried hard not to think about what Nathan was doing and when he did, just hoped it wasn’t in the bar. Parker wasn’t needed until tomorrow and Nate said this mark wouldn’t require a hitter.
So it made sense that he had Hardison and Nathan both squawking in his ear like overgrown mother hens and Sophie sounding like her heart was in her mouth. It wasn’t like he did anything to disguise the sound of the fight - well, take down. The guy didn’t exactly resist his beating. And Parker, she still hadn’t said anything.
He turned, taking the quarter second to nail the guy’s nose with his heel. Parker was exactly where she’d been forty five seconds ago, with the same look on her face, and Eliot wanted to beat the guy again. He’d do it a thousand times to get that look off her face, but something told him this wasn’t a look he could take down with his fists.
Eliot didn’t know what the guy did or who he was. He looked pretty unassuming: Red Sox cap, worn out polo shirt, jeans. He could have been anyone on this side of town and the agonized grunting sounded like it could have a Southie accent.
Parker’s eyes were impossibly wide, but more like Eliot was holding a bomb than a bag of diamonds. And she was frozen, in stasis, just holding the stupid cardboard tray with their coffees and Hardison’s… whatever the hell chocolate confection it was. Parker never froze like that. Nate did and Hardison, when you took away his gizmos, and hell, even Sophie sometimes, if someone caught her all wrong footed. But Parker was always moving, always jumping off buildings and ghosting up behind you and proving she was alive and dynamic and there.
Eliot did not like it. Parker wasn’t made to be still. Her face wasn’t made to be scared.
He grabbed the guy by his worn out polo and pulled him to his feet. “Come on, buddy.”
The guy said something, but it got lost in the gurgling blood. He obviously wasn’t used to any kind of real fighting. He spit a bloodied tooth onto the sidewalk and glared up at Eliot. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
Eliot cuffed him on the back of his head, harder than any affection he’d ever given Hardison but not enough to really count. “Move your ass.”
“No.”
They both turned and looked at Parker. She was still frozen in place, her hands still holding the cardboard tray, the three styrofoam cups still steaming in the early autumn air. Her face was almost as pale as her hair, but her eyes weren’t quite as wide and Eliot knew that whatever the hell was going on, she never shook. She was scared, but holding her ground.
“No,” she said again, her voice louder. “He’s not coming back with us.”
“Who is not coming back? What the hell is going on?” Hardison demanded, sounding like he was right beside them. “Why the hell aren’t there traffic cams near you?
“What happened?” Nate asked, his voice running over Hardison’s, like Eliot can parse them all at once, with Sophie still sweet talking Alphonse up on the North Shore at the same time. “Are either of you hurt?”
“Of course, as soon as someone gives me the details, I’ll let you in on the secret,” Sophie said, her fake accent just grating enough to break his last nerve.
“Shut up!” Eliot demanded, grinding his boot into the guy’s arch for good measure. Everyone shouting wasn’t going to pull that look off her face. If dragging him back to Nate’s apartment for Hardison’s help with a little well honed interrogation was off limits, Eliot wanted to know why. He wasn’t going to push her, but the asshole was going to pay for putting that look on Parker’s face.
And then he saw the look of recognition in the guy’s face, the one where his eyes widened just enough and the set of his jaw changed. And Eliot wanted to break his jaw because that look came when he sets eyeson her. And no one should be looking at her like that, like she was a piece of meat, like she was something to win at a carnival. So, without ever looking away from Parker, he gave the guy a rough shake, counting on the feel of a dislocated shoulder under his hand.
“Got yourself a big man, didn’t you, Patience?” the guy ground out, falling to one knee under Eliot’s hand. “I told you you could do it.”
Eliot released his shoulder and grabbed his ear instead. No one would really care if an asshole went running around Boston without an ear. Police probably wouldn’t even hear about it.
“No,” Parker said again, but her voice shook in a way Eliot never heard before and never, ever wanted to hear again.
The bastard looked up at Eliot, dared to look him in the eye before turning on Parker again. “What’s the game, pumpkin? You spread your legs for him and he protects you?”
And Eliot saw red at that. It wasn’t even the damaged squeak that Parker let out or the sound of the cardboard tray finally dropping. It was the final realization that, no matter how hard he tried, Eliot could never fully protect his team. He couldn’t keep Hardison’s Nana from having cancer; he couldn’t keep Sophie safe and in the same country; he couldn’t keep Nathan away from the bottle; and now, he couldn’t even keep Parker’s past from jumping up and biting her in the ass.
The asshole went down like a load of bricks. He went down and Eliot kept punching. He punched and kicked and he even swore at him like he said he never would again. He didn’t know the man’s name and he bore the brunt of every single one of Eliot’s failures, every single time Eliot went to Nate’s apartment and saw a bruise or a cut or lurking fear in the eyes of his team. The bastard never stood a chance.
The only reason he stopped was because of the shouting, the goddamned endless shouting in his ear, and another squeak out of Parker. He stopped and he took a good look at her, ignoring the blood on his shirt and Hardison in his ear, going on about rerouting the cops.
Her shoes, the shiny black boots that were a gift from Sophie when she finally came back, were covered in coffee and whipped cream. The styrofoam cups were all over the pavement and the cardboard tray somehow got under the bastard’s left arm. And Parker’s face was wet with tears.
Eliot moved in slow, not knowing how she would react, knowing they had people watching them, including the cute girl who gave them their coffee. He was relieved, somehow, when she let him hug her, when she didn’t squeak or cry or kick as he lifted her away from the sidewalk where blood and coffee mixed in dark pools.
He dropped his comm into his pocket because he needed to focus on Parker. He needed to know what she needed, what just happened here. When she didn’t move and only looked at him, when the red and blue lights of the cop car highlighted her tear, Eliot risked pulling her comm from her ear as well. It went into his shirt pocket, too, and he ignored the blood.
Parker didn’t say anything until the cop, some guy who looked like he could be Nate’s cousin and smelled enough of whiskey to make Eliot wonder, tried to cuff him.
First she grabbed him and pulled the cuffs from his hands. Eliot didn’t resist. Eliot didn’t do anything, as long as he could keep his eyes on Parker.
“Look, lady, he just beat that guy,” the cop said, his voice nasal and dropping the wrong syllables to be from Massachusetts. “We gotta take him downtown.”
“He was protecting me,” she said, her voice stilted, the way it had been when he first met her.
The cop shook his head, but had a smile for her. Eliot wanted to wipe the smile from his face. Smiling at Parker like that wasn’t going to win him favors with either of them. “McMullen’s a pillar of the community, ma’am. I don’t know who your friend is, but I don’t got a choice.”
“He’s my boyfriend.” It’s the first time Parker ever put a name to what they had between them and Eliot never wanted it to be like this. “The - the guy grabbed me. Eliot was just protecting me.”
“Yeah?” The cop didn’t sound like he believed her.
Parker waited a long beat of time, but Eliot wasn’t going to say anything. He’d go with the cops for this, if only because she was worth it. “He offered me money. Said he’d pay me five hundred.” She nodded at Eliot. “He overheard. The guy wouldn’t back off.”
Eventually, between Parker and Hardison and even some sweet talking from Nathan’s dad’s cop buddies, Eliot never had to go down to the precinct. The asshole was taken away in an ambulance and Eliot saluted it as it sailed off to Mass General. Eventually, the crowd left them alone and Dunkin’ Donuts refilled their order.
Eventually, as they walked back to McRory’s, with Parker’s arm tucked into Eliot’s, she said, “He’s the one who took Bunny.”
And that’s all Eliot ever needed to know. He did right this time.
Fandom: Leverage
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Written for this prompt: Eliot and Parker run into one of her fosters on a con.
Eliot didn’t think before his right hand got the wrong side of the bastard’s teeth. He hadn’t needed conscious thought before a fight in a long time and his hands were scarred enough that no one would notice new ones. All it had taken was the look on her face and he knew - and then the bastard was on the ground.
They were just supposed to be on a goddamned coffee run. Sophie was sweet talking the mark, sounding like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, and Hardison was doing something with the mark’s bank accounts. Eliot tried hard not to think about what Nathan was doing and when he did, just hoped it wasn’t in the bar. Parker wasn’t needed until tomorrow and Nate said this mark wouldn’t require a hitter.
So it made sense that he had Hardison and Nathan both squawking in his ear like overgrown mother hens and Sophie sounding like her heart was in her mouth. It wasn’t like he did anything to disguise the sound of the fight - well, take down. The guy didn’t exactly resist his beating. And Parker, she still hadn’t said anything.
He turned, taking the quarter second to nail the guy’s nose with his heel. Parker was exactly where she’d been forty five seconds ago, with the same look on her face, and Eliot wanted to beat the guy again. He’d do it a thousand times to get that look off her face, but something told him this wasn’t a look he could take down with his fists.
Eliot didn’t know what the guy did or who he was. He looked pretty unassuming: Red Sox cap, worn out polo shirt, jeans. He could have been anyone on this side of town and the agonized grunting sounded like it could have a Southie accent.
Parker’s eyes were impossibly wide, but more like Eliot was holding a bomb than a bag of diamonds. And she was frozen, in stasis, just holding the stupid cardboard tray with their coffees and Hardison’s… whatever the hell chocolate confection it was. Parker never froze like that. Nate did and Hardison, when you took away his gizmos, and hell, even Sophie sometimes, if someone caught her all wrong footed. But Parker was always moving, always jumping off buildings and ghosting up behind you and proving she was alive and dynamic and there.
Eliot did not like it. Parker wasn’t made to be still. Her face wasn’t made to be scared.
He grabbed the guy by his worn out polo and pulled him to his feet. “Come on, buddy.”
The guy said something, but it got lost in the gurgling blood. He obviously wasn’t used to any kind of real fighting. He spit a bloodied tooth onto the sidewalk and glared up at Eliot. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
Eliot cuffed him on the back of his head, harder than any affection he’d ever given Hardison but not enough to really count. “Move your ass.”
“No.”
They both turned and looked at Parker. She was still frozen in place, her hands still holding the cardboard tray, the three styrofoam cups still steaming in the early autumn air. Her face was almost as pale as her hair, but her eyes weren’t quite as wide and Eliot knew that whatever the hell was going on, she never shook. She was scared, but holding her ground.
“No,” she said again, her voice louder. “He’s not coming back with us.”
“Who is not coming back? What the hell is going on?” Hardison demanded, sounding like he was right beside them. “Why the hell aren’t there traffic cams near you?
“What happened?” Nate asked, his voice running over Hardison’s, like Eliot can parse them all at once, with Sophie still sweet talking Alphonse up on the North Shore at the same time. “Are either of you hurt?”
“Of course, as soon as someone gives me the details, I’ll let you in on the secret,” Sophie said, her fake accent just grating enough to break his last nerve.
“Shut up!” Eliot demanded, grinding his boot into the guy’s arch for good measure. Everyone shouting wasn’t going to pull that look off her face. If dragging him back to Nate’s apartment for Hardison’s help with a little well honed interrogation was off limits, Eliot wanted to know why. He wasn’t going to push her, but the asshole was going to pay for putting that look on Parker’s face.
And then he saw the look of recognition in the guy’s face, the one where his eyes widened just enough and the set of his jaw changed. And Eliot wanted to break his jaw because that look came when he sets eyeson her. And no one should be looking at her like that, like she was a piece of meat, like she was something to win at a carnival. So, without ever looking away from Parker, he gave the guy a rough shake, counting on the feel of a dislocated shoulder under his hand.
“Got yourself a big man, didn’t you, Patience?” the guy ground out, falling to one knee under Eliot’s hand. “I told you you could do it.”
Eliot released his shoulder and grabbed his ear instead. No one would really care if an asshole went running around Boston without an ear. Police probably wouldn’t even hear about it.
“No,” Parker said again, but her voice shook in a way Eliot never heard before and never, ever wanted to hear again.
The bastard looked up at Eliot, dared to look him in the eye before turning on Parker again. “What’s the game, pumpkin? You spread your legs for him and he protects you?”
And Eliot saw red at that. It wasn’t even the damaged squeak that Parker let out or the sound of the cardboard tray finally dropping. It was the final realization that, no matter how hard he tried, Eliot could never fully protect his team. He couldn’t keep Hardison’s Nana from having cancer; he couldn’t keep Sophie safe and in the same country; he couldn’t keep Nathan away from the bottle; and now, he couldn’t even keep Parker’s past from jumping up and biting her in the ass.
The asshole went down like a load of bricks. He went down and Eliot kept punching. He punched and kicked and he even swore at him like he said he never would again. He didn’t know the man’s name and he bore the brunt of every single one of Eliot’s failures, every single time Eliot went to Nate’s apartment and saw a bruise or a cut or lurking fear in the eyes of his team. The bastard never stood a chance.
The only reason he stopped was because of the shouting, the goddamned endless shouting in his ear, and another squeak out of Parker. He stopped and he took a good look at her, ignoring the blood on his shirt and Hardison in his ear, going on about rerouting the cops.
Her shoes, the shiny black boots that were a gift from Sophie when she finally came back, were covered in coffee and whipped cream. The styrofoam cups were all over the pavement and the cardboard tray somehow got under the bastard’s left arm. And Parker’s face was wet with tears.
Eliot moved in slow, not knowing how she would react, knowing they had people watching them, including the cute girl who gave them their coffee. He was relieved, somehow, when she let him hug her, when she didn’t squeak or cry or kick as he lifted her away from the sidewalk where blood and coffee mixed in dark pools.
He dropped his comm into his pocket because he needed to focus on Parker. He needed to know what she needed, what just happened here. When she didn’t move and only looked at him, when the red and blue lights of the cop car highlighted her tear, Eliot risked pulling her comm from her ear as well. It went into his shirt pocket, too, and he ignored the blood.
Parker didn’t say anything until the cop, some guy who looked like he could be Nate’s cousin and smelled enough of whiskey to make Eliot wonder, tried to cuff him.
First she grabbed him and pulled the cuffs from his hands. Eliot didn’t resist. Eliot didn’t do anything, as long as he could keep his eyes on Parker.
“Look, lady, he just beat that guy,” the cop said, his voice nasal and dropping the wrong syllables to be from Massachusetts. “We gotta take him downtown.”
“He was protecting me,” she said, her voice stilted, the way it had been when he first met her.
The cop shook his head, but had a smile for her. Eliot wanted to wipe the smile from his face. Smiling at Parker like that wasn’t going to win him favors with either of them. “McMullen’s a pillar of the community, ma’am. I don’t know who your friend is, but I don’t got a choice.”
“He’s my boyfriend.” It’s the first time Parker ever put a name to what they had between them and Eliot never wanted it to be like this. “The - the guy grabbed me. Eliot was just protecting me.”
“Yeah?” The cop didn’t sound like he believed her.
Parker waited a long beat of time, but Eliot wasn’t going to say anything. He’d go with the cops for this, if only because she was worth it. “He offered me money. Said he’d pay me five hundred.” She nodded at Eliot. “He overheard. The guy wouldn’t back off.”
Eventually, between Parker and Hardison and even some sweet talking from Nathan’s dad’s cop buddies, Eliot never had to go down to the precinct. The asshole was taken away in an ambulance and Eliot saluted it as it sailed off to Mass General. Eventually, the crowd left them alone and Dunkin’ Donuts refilled their order.
Eventually, as they walked back to McRory’s, with Parker’s arm tucked into Eliot’s, she said, “He’s the one who took Bunny.”
And that’s all Eliot ever needed to know. He did right this time.