Fic: Scowling Swans (1/2), Crossover Leverage/A:tS, PG-13
Title: Scowling Swans
Author: elebridith
Fandom: Crossover A:tS/Leverage
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not mine. Nothing, no one. Just playing.
Genre: Slash, Crossover, Crack
Pairing, Characters: Eliot/Lindsey, Sophie, Nate. And a prince.
Word Count: 4402
Summary: A tutu, feathers and ballet shoes. It must be hell.
A/N: Set in my Face Value!Verse. Some unspecific time in the future. Plot was born with the help of ravensword and badfalcon. Beta'd by havenward .
Lindsey yawned and flopped back on the sofa. Not sure if I can stay awake until Eliot gets home. Fucking snow, everything is delayed. He yawned again and switched the TV on, trying to concentrate on some game show but failing hopelessly. He grabbed the remote again and flipped idly through the channels, already half convinced that he should better get some sleep instead of desperately trying to stay awake. But then some classical orchestra music caught his attention.
Tchaikovsky. Swan Lake. Nice. The familiar melody brought a smile to his face. He wasn’t particularly a ballet fan, but Wolfram and Hart had deemed it very important that their employees sported a good cultural education. Lindsey yawned slightly while watching. Yeah. Taking clients to a theater made things go our way more than once. And Lindsey couldn’t help but admire the athletic performance and the pure muscle control those dancers were showing. Helps that this swan princess certainly ain’t hard on the eyes. Pretty. Lindsey leaned back and got lost in the music, occasionally humming along, eyes slowly falling shut without him really noticing.
“Eliot, what’s taking you so long? Hurry up!”
Lindsey’s eyes flew open at the impatient sound of Sophie’s voice. He blinked rapidly a few times and tried to sit up, wincing as his stiff shoulder muscles protested. He rolled his head, trying to loosen them a bit and smiled in Sophie’s direction. “Hey Sophie. Didn’t hear you comin’ in, sorry. Must have fallen asleep.”
He reached for the TV remote and frowned as he noticed that it was switched off already. Huh. That’s weird. Did Sophie... He turned back to Sophie, who had completely ignored his apology and now raised her voice a bit, managing to sound teasing and impatient at once.
“Come on Eliot. You’re taking longer in the bathroom than any woman!”
Lindsey laughed, feeling amused. “Sophie, no hair jokes, please, okay?”
Sophie still ignored him and turned her head to the door when footsteps coming from the bathroom announced that Eliot was finally ready. Lindsey coughed politely, trying to suppress his flash of annoyance at Sophie’s behavior. “Hey, Sophie, I know you’re probably busy right now, but could you at least...” He was cut off by the grumpy sound of Eliot’s voice coming from the corridor.
“Shut up Sophie. Shaving legs is a serious business. Ya wouldn’t want me to bleed in your precious stockings, would ya?”
Lindsey barely had time to think Stockings? before the door finally opened and Eliot entered the living room. Lindsey’s jaw dropped and whatever teasing comment he had planned to make just died on his tongue. What. The. Everloving. Fuck?!?
Eliot wore a white long-sleeved leotard and white ballet stockings. His hair was apparently freshly washed, still a little damp and brushed back from his face, but at least his scowl was soothingly familiar.
Lindsey closed his eyes and shook his head heavily, not sure if they were playing a prank on him or if he was simply hallucinating. If this is for a job, I would have known about it, right? He opened his eyes again, desperately praying that the really disturbing vision was gone by now, but no such luck. If anything, it had gotten worse - Sophie had just emptied her clutch on the table and was now skimming through a huge collection of feathers, pearls and sequins. Lindsey gaped at the sight for a moment and then laughed again, not able to avoid a touch of hysteria.
“Okay guys, you had me. Really funny. Can you now...” He gestured helplessly to both of them. “Um, just talk to me? Guys?”
No reaction.
Sophie just hummed to herself while carefully choosing feathers, and Eliot just watched her, scowl deepening, arms crossed in front of his chest. A very uneasy feeling began to settle in Lindsey’s stomach. “Uh... Eliot? Sophie? Why won’t you talk to me? Can you even hear me?” He raised his voice, but none of them answered.
The uneasy feeling mixed itself now with confusion. Lindsey abruptly stood up and strode over to Sophie, waving his hands in front of her face, snapping his fingers. She didn’t even flinch, just picked up some hairpins decorated with shimmering pearly-white sequins and held them up with a triumphant noise.
“Ah, here they are. Now, Eliot, let me help you with your hair.” Without a word Eliot pulled up a chair and sat down in front of her. Sophie produced a hairbrush from somewhere and started combing Eliot’s hair.
Lindsey stared at the scene, speechless. Then he let himself fall back on the couch, feeling dumbfounded. “This is a dream,” he muttered. “Has to be. Or I’m dead and in some kind of hell. Yeah. That’s gotta be it.”
A soft “pop” sound made him look up. His eyes widened in disbelief. A black cloud of smoke curled up from the floor, fading fast and revealing Nate, wearing a ridiculous long black cape and an even more ridiculous false red beard. The look he gave Lindsey, though, was pure Nate - half resigned, half annoyed. Lindsey had to clear his throat twice to make sure that his voice didn’t squeak. “Nate? What the fuck is going on?” He gestured over to Eliot and Sophie, who was happily brushing Eliot’s hair while humming some oddly familiar tunes.
Nate sighed dramatically. “Lindsey. You figured it out already. Why ask?” He shrugged and smiled patiently. “Of course you’re in hell. What’d you think? Now stop complaining about how no one can hear you.” He pointed at Eliot and Sophie. “Eliot is the one who has to wear feathers. So please shut up.”
Lindsey felt like he was being punched in the stomach. “Hell? But... why...?” There definitely was now a squeak to his voice, but he didn’t care. He opened his mouth again, but Nate cut him off.
“I said shut up.” He pointed a finger and made a swirling motion, and a blue glittering cloud erupted from his fingertips into Lindsey’s face.
What the hell, Nate? Lindsey squeezed his eyes shut, but the glitter tickled his nose and made him sneeze violently.
When he had caught his breath again, he could see Nate grinning. “There. That’s better. See you at the theater, Lindsey.” He snapped his fingers and the black smoke cloud engulfed him again. It whirled around him a few times, covered Nate up completely and then both simply dissolved.
Say what? Lindsey tried to call after him, but his throat just closed up. He couldn’t make a sound. He groaned inwardly and buried his face in his hands. Great. Just great. Now he can do magic too. What did I do? How did I end up here?
He stood up again and went over to Sophie, who was just twisting Eliot’s hair into a neat ballet hair bun. He grabbed her shoulder and shook it almost desperately in an attempt to somehow catch her attention, but she simply shrugged him off as if all that she had felt was a fly. She fixed the last hair pin, stood up and went in front of Eliot.
She studied her work and beamed. “Very nice. Smile, Eliot, this is going to be great!”
She rummaged through her items again and picked up a white feather-donned hairband.
Eliot closed his eyes for a moment in resignation. “Parker has all the time in the world to sprain her ankle. An’ she does it durin’ the one job where we fuckin’ need a primaballerina? I’m gonna kill her when this is over.”
Sophie tsked. “Eliot, she didn’t do it on purpose.” She pulled the hair band carefully over Eliot’s head and tucked it into place. “And since I don’t dance as well as I can act, I’m really not the right person for this. And Hardison... well.” She scoffed and tucked one last feather into place. “There.” She stepped back and nodded, looking very satisfied with herself. “Isn’t it wonderful that you mentioned the other day that ballet dancing is a part of your fight training?” She laughed cheerily. “We would have had to skip the job otherwise, and that would have been a shame, really.”
Lindsey still stood next to Eliot’s chair, staring open-mouthed from one to the other. Ballet training? Well, it’s good for muscle developing and balance, but... He wanted to laugh, but even that sound didn’t come out. He rubbed his temples and chuckled dryly as another thought came to his mind. Or maybe you dated a primaballerina. And got... lessons. His grin faded. Oh. No, that would have been me. Minus the dancing lessons, of course. I just remember a few terms... Oops. Good thing I never mentioned that. The mental image of Sophie spiking his hair with feathers made him shudder.
Eliot’s impatient voice shook him out of his reverie. “Sophie? Are we done?” Sophie tapped her lower lip with her finger and looked thoughtful. Then her eyes lit up and she dug around in her seemingly endless clutch again. Eliot groaned as she pulled out another string of white feathers. “No. No way you’re puttin’ more feathers on my head, Sophie. This ain’t Copacabana!”
Sophie chuckled. “These are not for your hair, silly. They are for your leotard. To cover up your nipples.” Lindsey choked as Sophie held up a big needle with another triumphant “Hah!”-sound.
Shit, Sophie, couldn’t you find a bigger one? A javelin, maybe? He desperately tried to make warning noises, but of course it didn’t work. But Eliot was already up from his chair, eyes wide open and growling menacingly.
“You ain’t goin’ anywhere near my nipples! Not at all, an’ certainly not with...” He gesticulated wildly to her hand. “...that!”
Sophie rolled her eyes. “Don’t be such a baby,” she chided. “But if you insist - do it yourself.” She all but threw the feather string at Eliot who gave her a death glare but didn’t comment any further. He just pulled down the leotard, slipped out of the sleeves and started to stitch.
“Ain’t gonna work anyway,” he grumbled while he slipped the leotard back on and adjusted it. He glared at Sophie again and pointed at his chest. “Does this look female to you? An’ no, I’m not gonna stuff anything in here!”
Lindsey sputtered quietly at the mental image of Eliot with breasts and tried to catch his breath. This is... someone get me out of here! He frantically looked around, but couldn’t see anything that would have been helpful. His shoulders slumped and he shuffled over to the sofa and heavily dropped on it. Okay. I’ll just... watch the show. Maybe I’ll get a hint how to end this.
Sophie shook her head at Eliot and laughed softly. “No need for that. Actually, most ballerinas are quite... um, flat.” She blushed a little and laughed a tad too loud.
Eliot smirked wickedly. “Ah. That’s the reason why I never dated one.”
Lindsey’s eyebrows shot up. There goes that theory.
Sophie rolled her eyes and gestured to him to stand up. “Let me look at you.”
Eliot stood up and straightened. He gave Sophie’s thoughtful expression a look and narrowed his eyes. “Don’t even think about lipstick or somethin’. I already put on the eyeliner, that’s enough.”
Sophie eyed him up and down and finally nodded with a satisfied smile. “I think we’re good. Your shoes and the tutu are at the theater. Let’s go.” She turned around and looked at the door. “Nate?”
Lindsey’s head jerked up and he practically threw himself off the couch. They are not leaving me here, right? Gotta follow! A few quick steps brought him next to Eliot, who was not moving yet. Lindsey took a closer look at Eliot’s outfit and didn’t know if he was supposed to laugh or scream. Not that it matters. I still can’t get a sound out. He looked around and threw a questioning look at Sophie. Now, what? Thought you wanted to -
He couldn’t finish the thought. The now familiar puff of smoke curled up in the doorway, Nate tilted his head, nodded approvingly and snapped his fingers again. Lindsey made a surprised sound (if only in his head) as the whole room suddenly started to blur and waver, and finally tilt into a whirl.
Part Two is here.