Fic: Dreams, Crossover Leverage/A:tS, PG-13
Title: Dreams
Author: elebridith
Rating: PG-13 this part
Genre: Slash (the whole verse), Crossover
Pairing: Lindsey/Eliot, almost *g*
Summary: Set in my Face Value!Verse. Eliot POV before "Burn". Eliot really doesn't want this.
A/N: Beta'd by havenward , with idiomatic help from David. :-)
Eliot watched the scene at the diner table in Nate's living room out of the corner of his eye, pretending to read a magazine. He shook his head slowly, hiding his amusement at Lindsey's frustrated expression when the lock in his hands refused to give in to his careful prodding. Parker furrowed her brow and then shook her head. Eliot didn't listen to her explanations and continued reading for real, but the next time he snuck a look at the two, the lock just snapped open and Parker gleefully clapped her hands. Eliot's lips twitched at her excitement, and he got lost in his thoughts for a moment.
The last couple of months had worked well. Lindsey had been eager to fit in the group, getting to know everyone as fast as possible. That, of course, meant he had asked questions. Questions that the others didn't mind, but Eliot more often than not was not willing to answer. Hell, the others don't know, why should I tell him? After a few glares and snapped comments, though, Lindsey had gotten the message and stopped asking directly. Eliot strongly suspected that Lindsey spent a lot of time reading files instead, but he didn't care. He knew that there was nothing in them that he didn't want getting out. He smirked to himself. And whatever Nate knows - or thinks he knows - he won't give it away. He tentatively decided that it was maybe okay now to relax a bit around Lindsey. Not letting his guard down completely, of course not, but just a little. There were two things that Eliot grudgingly appreciated in the other man - his dry sense of humor, and that Lindsey, despite his gratefulness, wasn't willing to take shit from anyone. Eliot smiled involuntarily as he remembered the ice bag incident.
One of the first things Eliot had noticed about Lindsey was that he immediately showed an uncanny ability to notice whenever Eliot was more hurt in a fight than he let show. Eliot put that down to Lindsey's own weird-ass fight training, something the others didn't have. Usually Eliot hid the extent of his injuries (save for the clearly visible ones) so well that not even Sophie caught on to them. Parker and Hardison simply thought that he could take care of himself, and Eliot knew that Nate did notice sometimes, but trusted him to speak up if he really needed help. But lately, after a fight Lindsey would take a good look at him and had ice packs and a good cup of tea ready before Eliot had even taken off his jacket. At first Eliot had rolled his eyes or glared, muttering something about not wanting to be fussed over. Finally, after three weeks, Lindsey had just thrown the icepack at his face and had growled "Shut the fuck up and use this. Ain't fussin', it's keepin' you functional!" Eliot had still given him a glare, but after that he stopped growling. And today, after a particularly nasty fight, he had been so glad about Lindsey's fast reaction that he gave him a quick smile and a soft "Thanks". Lindsey had done an exaggerated double take, but then had smiled back, wide and honest.
Eliot's smile faltered as he suddenly realized just how much he had liked that smile. A little, Eliot. Don't go soft. He abruptly stood up and used the next best excuse that came to his mind to leave headquarters. He nodded his good-bye to the others. "'M gonna patch myself up a bit at my place. See ya tomorrow." It came out more gruff than he had intended. Lindsey was apparently too busy picking the next lock to notice, but Eliot could see the the surprised look on Parker's face before he turned around and left the room. The drive to his apartment cleared his head again, and he had shook off every thought about Lindsey smiling by the time he reached his place. Half an hour later he was in his own bed, sound asleep.
Lips pressing against his own, smooth skin under his hands, strong body under his own, heated kisses, fingers tearing at clothes, hands in his hair, pulling, nails digging into skin, gasps and harsh panting, and then a moan, escaping him. "Lindsey..."
Eliot bolted upright, pulling himself out of the dream. He was drenched in sweat and, not surprising, half-hard, his breathing ragged and short. What the fuck...? He forced himself to calm down his breathing, grabbed a glass of water from the nightstand and slowly took a few sips. Where the hell did that come from? Lindsey? Of all people? He snorted out a laugh. Very funny, Eliot. You need to get laid. Soon. And not by Lindsey. A small nagging voice started to ask Why not? It felt good, right?, but he shut it off. No, it didn't. Lindsey trusts me. It's not like that. He pointedly shook his head at himself and stretched out under the sheets again, ignoring his still lingering erection. Not at all.
He slept for the rest of the night without more dreams, and the next morning he drove over to the office, making plans for his free evening and feeling very confident that he wouldn't have a problem being alone with Lindsey for combat lessons. He was actually looking forward to it - Lindsey was a fast learner, and his fighting experience meant that Eliot could push him harder than the others, which was a solid exercise for himself. The routine exercises as warm-up went well, and Eliot felt good. He wiped his hands on his shirt and looked at Lindsey expectantly. "You wanna try something new? It's a tough one, ya gotta be fast."
Lindsey nodded eagerly. "Sure." He hesitated a moment and then asked casually "Where did you learn all this stuff? Special forces or something?"
Eliot shook his head. "None of your business, okay?" It came out a little more annoyed than he really felt right now, but he just shrugged, ignoring the quick frustrated glare Lindsey threw him. Eliot started to explain the techniques and Lindsey quickly concentrated again, listening carefully. After two rounds of slow motion Eliot stopped and gave Lindsey a questioning look. "You got it?"
Lindsey nodded slowly, thoughtful expression on his face. "Yeah, I think so." He caught Eliot's eyes and took a deep breath. "I guess you can kill someone with that, right?"
Eliot snorted, slightly amused. "Yeah." He left it with this short reply and went into position, but at the same moment Lindsey tilted his head and gave him a very serious look.
"Did you ever? Kill someone like this, I mean?"
Eliot opened his mouth, answer already on the tip of his tongue, but closed it again quickly. A sudden bright flare of anger rose inside of him. Too Private, Lindsey. Stop fuckin' askin' me questions like that. He inhaled slowly and unclenched his fists forcefully. The glare he gave Lindsey now made the other man step back in an unconscious move. Eliot didn't follow, but accentuated every word of his answer in a low, threatening voice. "None. Of. Your. Fucking. Business." He didn't wait for an answer, just raised his hands. "Ready?"
Lindsey threw him another glare, even more frustrated than before, but then he straightened and nodded. "Yeah."
Eliot grinned humorlessly, just a curl of lips. "Good." He started the fighting moves at full speed now. At first Lindsey was able to hold his own, but Eliot pressed the speed more and more. Don't give him time to think. Finally Lindsey tripped over his own feet as he made a wrong move, and fell down hard. Eliot saw him making a face, obviously suppressing a sound of pain, but Lindsey got up again, just throwing him a half-annoyed, half-questioning glance. Eliot smirked at him. "Again."
Three rounds later it was obvious that Lindsey was exhausted. As he tumbled down again Eliot could see him gritting his teeth. Lindsey slowly got up again, rubbing his leg. He looked at Eliot and narrowed his eyes. "Sheesh, Eliot, who shoved that stick up yer ass? Are ya tryin' to give me a bruise collection here?" He motioned to his legs, and Eliot scowled.
"You don't concentrate. Keep your mind off other things, then you'll stay whole. You're better than this." He grabbed a towel from the next rack and wiped his face, then looked at Lindsey again, expression and voice calm. "We'll do this again next week. Be prepared." Without waiting for an answer, he turned around and headed for the shower, pretending not to hear the aggravated noise Lindsey made behind him.
As the hot water of the shower poured down on him, Eliot finally realized how tense he really was. He cringed inwardly. I saw that he was hurt. And still put more pressure on him. Shit, Eliot, since when do you freak out like this at one simple question? He sighed, lost in thoughts trying to analyze himself while soaping himself up and down. Then his hands stilled as a realization hit him. It's not that he asked. I almost answered him. Almost told him things even the others don't know. What the fuck, Eliot? He shook his head angrily, water drops from his hair flying. Gotta keep my guard up better. Just because I promised him something ain't meanin' he's my soul mate now. He finished his shower and started toweling himself dry. Still. That was... cruel. Maybe it's gonna help with keepin' distance to Lindsey, but Nate's gonna be angry.
It put a little damper on his mood, but the evening went well and it was a dreamless sleep in his apartment that night. The next morning, though, he flinched inwardly as Lindsey walked into the conference room, still limping and pointedly ignoring him. A few hours later Eliot was honestly surprised that Nate didn't rip him a new one, even more that he didn't even mention it. Eliot was absolutely sure that Nate had asked Lindsey about it, and had no other explanation except that Lindsey hadn't ratted him out. So he apologized - sort of - by cooking lunch for the team that day and making a dessert he knew that Lindsey loved. Lindsey hadn't spoken one word him the whole morning, but now took one look at the dessert and gave Eliot an incredulous smile. Eliot kept his face blank, and Lindsey raised his eyebrows, slowly shook his head and then gave him a knowing grin. Eliot grinned back, a little crooked, and felt better.
The dream came back that night, and the night after that. After the third time waking up from it, or better, tearing himself out of it, Eliot balled his fists, went through a set of breathing exercises and tried to set his mind in order, finally admitting a few things to himself. Okay. So I'm attracted. Really, should have seen that comin'. He remembered very clearly the first time they had picked up a sword during a training session. Lindsey had twirled his blade with a small confident smile on his face, and Eliot hadn't been surprised at all when five minutes later his own blade went flying. Always going for the ones that can best you. He sighed, reached for the glass on his nightstand and took a sip of water. But that ain't everything, right Eliot? He closed his eyes, went through every detail of the dream and clenched his fists as he remembered. It didn't feel like just a fling. It had felt... intimate. Comfortable. Like Lindsey had been there for a long time. Like Eliot was completely familiar with the taste of Lindsey's skin, the feel of his body, the way he reacted to touches. Like they knew each other. And trusted each other.
Eliot raked his fingers of his free hand through his long hair and dropped his head as the realization of what really bothered him slowly settled in. Not the kissing. Not the fact that Lindsey most certainly wasn't interested anyway. No. What shook him was something else - a hollow feeling of loss that had surfaced every time when he realized that it had just been a dream. That this feeling of belonging wasn't real. And what shook him even more was that he wasn't able to deny it any longer. Since when do I want closeness? When the fuck did that happen?
Eliot snorted out a laugh, a bitter, self-loathing sound. Yeah. Sure. He tried to get his common sense to work, to repair the walls he'd been building up for so long. For a reason, he chided himself. It was the last thing he needed, right? But the thoughts kept coming in, taunting him. Someone to get close. To get under my skin. Someone to... just someone... NO. His face hardened and his fingers clenched around the glass. Don't need nobody. And if he did need someone it certainly wouldn't be Lindsey. Because Lindsey? He wouldn't just want a quick fuck. He'd want... more, Eliot was sure of that. And that just wouldn't happen, period. Being in the team was attachment enough, being with someone in the team - no. That was a thing that maybe worked for people like Nate and Sophie. Not for...
Well, how do you know that? Ain't like you ever really tried. After Aimee. A wave of frustrated anger went through him, and he sat the glass back on the nightstand. With too much force, apparently, because it cracked in two places and fell into pieces. The soft clinking sound and a slight sharp pain in his palm cleared his head. He blinked and muttered a curse while he carefully removed a splinter that luckily hadn't cut deep enough to draw blood. He took a deep breath and stood up to fetch a dust pan. His thoughts still raced as he carefully wiped the shards off the nightstand and took them to the garbage. An' of course there'd still be the liking guys thing. He laughed again, more sarcastically this time. As far as I know Lindsey likes his sex like he likes his whiskey. Straight and neat. Not one word in his files that there was ever a boyfriend. Eliot let out a frustrated growl as he realized that the fact that he knew this at all spoke volumes. Dammit, Eliot. Stop makin' lame excuses and face it. You want this. An' you can't have it.
He dropped back lying on his bed and slowly exhaled. He shut his eyes and methodically began building his defense walls again. Shutting off the little voice in his head that tried to tell him to at least try, goddammit. Telling himself again and again all the reasons why it was a bad idea until every other argument simply disappeared. His breathing evened out and he fell asleep, and woke up the next morning, calm and confident that those fucking dreams were history now.
It worked for a while. There were casual conversations and combat training with Lindsey when no one else was present, they worked together on jobs, and the dreams seemed to be gone for good. Until a few days later, when Eliot noticed after a particularly sweaty fighting lesson that his attraction to Lindsey hadn't vanished at all. He was immensely glad that an emergency call from Nate ended the lesson abruptly and got them both on different sides of the current job.
But now Eliot was on Nate's couch, dead tired but afraid of falling asleep. Afraid of dreaming again, and this time in a room where Nate, Sophie and Lindsey were only a few yards away. He knew that he didn't talk in his sleep, but he didn't want anyone to walk in on him waking up sweaty and hard. He was almost ready to get up again and, exhaustion be damned, take his truck and drive to his apartment when the faint sound of a voice interrupted his train of thought.
He sat up, strained his hearing and there it was again. A pained outcry, coming from... Lindsey. He's having nightmares again. Despite his torn feelings he didn't hesitate, the frightened whimper from the other room kicking his protective instinct into full gear. He swung his legs from the couch, hurried over to Nate's guest room and opened the door.
Lindsey was still asleep, but his face twisted in pain and he made weak hand movements as if he was defending himself from an invisible enemy. Even in the dim light Eliot could see drops of sweat running down Lindsey's face while his body twitched like he'd been electrocuted. Eliot switched the light on and could make out the words "No... no, please, don't..." while he headed over to the bed. He reached out and shook Lindsey's shoulder gently.
"Hey. Hey, Lindsey, wake up. 's just a dream. You're safe." Lindsey's eyes flew open and he almost bolted upright. Eliot tightened his grip on Lindsey's shoulder. "Easy, easy. It's me."
The wild panicked look on Lindsey's face slowly faded as his gaze cleared and focused on Eliot's face. "Eliot...? What... oh." Lindsey closed his eyes again and exhaled shakily. When he opened them he managed an apologetic smile. "Nightmare. Sorry, didn't mean to wake you."
Eliot slowly pulled his hand back, instinctively wanting to keep the contact but forcing himself to break it. He snorted, trying for a light tone to ease Lindsey's anxiety. "'S okay. Didn't do it on purpose, right?"
Lindsey's smile was more sincere now, grateful for the distraction. He pushed himself upright a bit and looked Eliot in the eyes. "Nope." Lindsey's smile faded. He looked away and bit his lower lip. "Thought I'd be over it. Guess not. Great. Jus' what I need."
Eliot hesitated. He wanted to leave, didn't want to think anymore about his urge to touch the other man, but he didn't, couldn't move. The pained expression that was back on Lindsey's face made Eliot reach out for him again, but he stopped and simply refilled the water glass on the nightstand instead. To cover up the jerky movement, he asked "What was it?"
Lindsey was still too distracted to notice the slightly rushed tone in Eliot's voice. He had a faraway look on his face and unconsciously clutched a hand over his heart. "Hell."
Eliot winced when he remembered Lindsey's description of the hell dimension he'd been in. "Oh. That's..." He stumbled over his words, wanting to comfort Lindsey but not getting too intimate. Pull yourself together, Eliot. He needs help. He straightened a bit and handed Lindsey the full glass. "Look, d'you need anything?"
Lindsey shook his head weakly, took the glass and sipped slowly. He looked up again and sighed, trying to smile but failing. "Nah, thanks. I'm... okay. I'll try to sleep again." Eliot nodded. Lindsey set the glass down and curled up under the sheet, trembling slightly. Eliot was unable to convince his feet to move, goddamn it, get out of this bedroom, away from...
"Eliot?" Lindsey's voice was already slurring a little, but he'd lifted his head a bit and looked at him, very earnest. "Do you ever... dream about it? About something you did? Anything?"
"No."
Too Private, again, and Eliot had snapped out the word and taken two steps back before he could even think about answering otherwise. He saw surprise and hurt flash over Lindsey's face, followed by resignation. Then the other man just nodded and turned away from him, huddling deeper under his sheet. Eliot opened his mouth to apologize, but closed it again without saying anything. Good. Keep some distance, Eliot. Don't encourage him to get closer. He finally gained control over his feet and stepped further back to leave the room. He was halfway out of the door already, but then hesitated. Eliot, you're a bastard. 's not his fault that you're so fucked up. He clenched his teeth, angry at himself. Always jumpin' to extremes. Shit. He abruptly made his decision and turned back a bit, looking over his shoulder.
"Sometimes." Eliot's voice was gruff, and he refused to admit more, but it seemed like enough. He watched as Lindsey slowly turned his head, and then Eliot caught his eyes and forced himself to hold Lindsey's gaze. There still was a trace of lingering hurt at Eliot's harsh rejection, and Lindsey studied his face without saying a word. Then his expression softened, and Eliot had to look away at the amount of understanding he saw in Lindsey's eyes now. It made his gut clench. He nodded sharply, quickly switched off the light and forced himself to leave the room slowly, not wanting it to look like he was fleeing. Eliot closed the door behind him and dropped back onto Nate's couch, sighing and rubbing his temples. I need to get away a bit. No need to be an asshole, but... more distance. Good thing I have a job tomorrow.
A small voice came from the back of his mind. But y'know, he would understand. You. Your kind of life. You could at least try an' ask.
He snorted. Oh, shut up you. Not. Gonna. Happen. Too much, too close. He pushed away the regret that threatened to flare up at the thought, reinforced his walls and drifted to sleep. And if there were dreams then, dreams that included blue eyes, burning need and the strange sense of being complete, he pretended to himself that he'd already forgotten them by the time he left the house next morning.