Willing to Fight (for ldydragon7) Alec/Eliot 1/1
Title: Willing to Fight
Fandom/ Pairing: Leverage, Alec/Eliot
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue, don't take this too seriously.
A/N: Written for the wonderful, generous and patient ldydragon7, who was kind enough to bid on my offering on fandomaid. Thanks dearie! Hugs!
Summary: Alec doesn't want to let Eliot teach him how to fight.
Parker had bugged him for lessons. Relentlessly.
She'd stalked him for weeks, harangued him during jobs, and when that hadn't worked, she'd broken into his house and attacked him with a sock full of pennies, all from 1987. It had started out rough, but smoothed out as the hours passed. After the next job, she'd started using the door, even waiting for him to put his groceries away and head towards the back yard, first. They'd been doing alternate Thursdays ever since. Next week, they're moving it out of his house and over to some warehouse she's found. No mats, no holds barred, because she says he's coddling her. He's looking forward to it more than he'll admit.
Sophie had asked nicely.
"You never know when someone's going to get a bit... handsy," she'd said with a distasteful shudder, and the next day, had shown up at his house wearing perfectly tailored workout clothes and carrying a matching purse. He'd pulled his punches like crazy, not because he thought she couldn't handle it, but because honestly, if her face got messed up two days before a job came, he'd never hear the end of it. She puts her hips into her punches, now; they land sharply, with a startling amount of power. She's mastered six more ways to break a hold, and they've only been at it for two months.
Nate had never shown any interest at all.
Then again, as far as Eliot was concerned, Nate probably had what was coming to him half the time anyway. He could hold his own well enough when it came down to it, but his interests were more mercurial than merely inflicting physical damage. And honestly? If he was doing his job right, no mark would dream of attacking him. And for all his flaws, Eliot still hasn't met anyone better at it.
Hardison, though. Alec's an entirely different ball of wax.
He'd cracked jokes at first, but the more Eliot pressed, the more his defenses had gone up. He'd started voicing his disinterest in louder and louder tones. There was a nerve, there, and Eliot knew he was poking at it.
Hinting to Sophie that maybe she could nudge Nate to make it an order hadn't helped, either. When Nate had tried, three days later, Parker had laughed so loudly that Alec stopped talking to Eliot for nearly two days.
---
"Just don't see the point, is all," Alec finally says one Saturday morning, when pure luck means Eliot can catch him still in the process of waking up; Alec's finally off guard enough to broach the subject. "Ain't like you never come through in the end."
"If I'm distracted worrying about you getting your ass kicked, my attention isn't on the fight in front of me," Eliot explains, dimly optimistic that maybe he's getting somewhere, this time. "Which means it's going to take melonger to come through in the end."
Hardison nods to himself, staring out the window as he considers, and it might be real progress that they're making, here, which is why their phones both start buzzing. It's Nate. A new client. Meeting in an hour. The usual.
Also as usual, once he's awake and settled back into himself, he stays there for the next few days. Alec manages to derail every conversation that even threatens to go anywhere near, well, threats and how to deal with them.
It's enough that Eliot half considers making a few of his own.
---
It's Sophie who points out that Hardison probably liked having the entire incident-
-Incident. Right. They'd buried him alive-
-thrown in his face about as much as Eliot likes anyone mentioning that afternoon at the carnival.
Sophie might have a point.
Eliot's been going over it in his head for weeks. Not Miley's extraction from the hall of mirrors, not the part where the crew had come close enough to winning, not even the movements behind his closed eyes when he'd fought Roper. But that moment where he'd been distracted, lost sight of Miley when he should've been watching her. And how he'd focused on fighting the guy on the ride when he should've checked for comrades in the control booth.
They'd been stupid mistakes. He's been making too many of them lately.
Let's not even bring up Sterling's drugged coffee.
He's been skipping too many training sessions, lately. Injuries are taking longer to heal, these days. Alec's place just doesn't have the room. Splitting pitchers at McRory's with the crew isn't the nightmarish endeavor that it once was. Whatever's coming, it'll be his own damned fault. Because if he can't do his job the way it needs to be done, well. He can't do his job at all.
---
Eliot gets it. Alec's the nice guy. He's the kindest of them all, definitely the most selfless, and a lot of other things besides that had drawn Eliot in so many months ago, when he'd still been blown away by their mere existence.
He'd be the first one to sacrifice himself in order to help someone else. His hero complex was the exact sort of thing that would get him killed, one of these days. He'd probably always been that way, and the fact that Eliot loved that about him- had fallen in love with him for that exact reason- didn't make it any less problematic.
Alec will joke about being a bad guy, even brag about being a criminal mastermind. But the only reason he's not a white-hat hacker pressed into service by the FBI is that he's never been caught. He's not a Bad Guy. Doesn't honestly think of himself that way, not deep deep down. Eliot can't, either.
---
Eliot tries bribes, but finds he's not so good at holding out on Alec when it's late at night and he's crawling between the sheets next to him. He'll punch out the voice boxes of anyone who says so, but he's far too head over heels to start churlishly avoiding him until he gets his way. So he tries logic.
"The best way for me to stay on my game is to have to explain it to someone else," he insists, drumming his fingers on the table and waiting for Nate to finally decide which con he wants to use, here.
"Funny thing about that," Alec suspects that he's being conned, and he's not entirely wrong, when it comes right down to it. "That's pretty much the exact thing I said when I was trying to show you how to navigate file structures, isn't it? You know, those things you adamantly refused to have anything at all to do with?"
Eliot doesn't have an instant rebuttal for that, and by the time he comes up with one- he's honestly ready to make a deal, one hour on the computer in exchange for one hour in the gym- Alec's already hip-deep in bank accounts again. The job ramps up pretty quickly after that, and by the time they've got five minutes to breathe, Alec's insisting that he's surpassed his annual physical exertion allowance running from the Russians for three hours. Eliot's honestly too tired to fight him.
---
He tries leveraging the team.
"You're a good target, you know that, right? A sitting duck, out in the van, on your own and out of range. You go down, the rest of us are completely hobbled. Nate's plans aren't going to mean a thing if he can't get them to us, and if you weren't there to dig up the information on our marks, they'd stop existing pretty damned quick."
Turns out it's exactly the wrong thing to say.
"I've got backup plans for my backup plans, and always know my exits." Alec stands, his hands clearly want to become fists but he's just not built for it, and has to settle to sigh disappointedly instead. Oddly enough, it's probably twice as effective. "You want to start holding my hand while I check my email next, or do you think I can manage it?"
---
The one he feels worst about, though, is that he pretty much resorts to emotional blackmail.
"You need to learn to defend yourself, even if you don't want to. Especially if you don't want to. And besides. I can't always be there," he grinds out, trying not to sound as frustrated as he is, but he's exhausted and tired of wanting this. "One day I might not be."
"Moot point, then, ain't it?" Alec levels a steady gaze in Eliot's direction that's enough to make him regret speaking at all. "'Cause if that day ever comes, I don't think any of us are going to be there anyway." He's just too damned calm sounding, like he's given this some thought. Like it's kept him up nights, and he's got plans and contingencies in place, and he's already predicted every way this crew is going to fall apart, and damn Eliot for bringing it up, anyway.
---
Eventually, though, Alec gives in. It's out of the blue on a Saturday morning, and Eliot doesn't even know why it happens. He does know, however, that he's not supposed to feel so slightly disappointed when it does. Like he's running the risk of taking the shine off something perfect. The capitulation doesn't mean anything more than what it is, Eliot knows this. But part of him really regrets that he's got to change gears. He has to start training Alec how to never do it again.
---
It's not surprising, but Hardison's really bad at this.
"No, you've got to get your hands up. Like this," Eliot grabs Alec's fists, brings them up closer to shoulder level. "Blocking is great when you can manage it, but it's more important to not be where the punch is about to land. The guy hitting you's already chosen his target, so you're probably going to get hit. Usually, the best you can do is minimize the impact." Lunging again, Eliot pulls the punch at the last second, striking Alec in the stomach, just enough that he feels it, but not enough that he can use being winded as an excuse to quit. Alec's still trying to block, still losing what little position his fists have.
"Now, if you step back, or even just lean out of the way, that same punch?" He steps back, repeats the punch more slowly this time, but when his fist stops at the same point, Alec's not standing there; he's still inches away, his weight shifted onto his back foot and already following with his right. "Yeah, just like that." He catches himself almost returning Alec's too-proud grin, stops himself before he can get derailed. "Why is that?"
"Best defense is a good offense," Alec manages not to roll his eyes as he repeats Eliot's earlier words; they've both gone over this too many times to mention. "Buys some time to figure out what comes next."
"Okay. Good," Eliot nods, and they drill it for the next ten minutes. Some punches he pulls more than others. They're still connecting far too often, but Hardison's getting irritated.
Soon, he'll be fighting back.
---
They've been doing this for about a month, and Eliot's still valiantly holding back the I told you so that's been on the tip of his tongue for the past seven sessions, but the curiosity is finally getting to him.
"So, I gotta ask," Eliot steps back, out of reach, only aware that he's shifting his weight to his front foot because he's watching to make sure that Alec's doing the same. "Why did you finally agree?"
Alec shrugs, glancing away. For an instant, he's left himself open, but Eliot doesn't risk an attack, just in case Alec's about to finally start talking. Because there's something to tell, that much is obvious.
"It's the crew, you know?" Alec's quicker to start his punches from the hip, but he's still telegraphing. Eliot redirects the impact, feels it sliding off of his forearm and reminds himself to stay in defensive mode. "I mean, we're family. But it's not going to last forever." Repeating the jab, he follows with a cross that's on target enough that it connects, and Alec's as startled as Eliot when his head snaps back.
"Nice." Eliot knows he's fine, but grimaces anyway, swiveling his jaw and checking for range of motion as the pit forms in his chest. Shaking his head quickly and rolling his shoulders, he waves his hand. If Alec thinks he's covering for getting hit, rather than covering the dread that Alec's words are fostering, so much the better. "Anyhow. You were saying. Not lasting forever."
"Like maybe Nate and Sophie's thing will implode, or Parker will get bored or I'll miss something obvious and land us all in prison, you know?" His posture's slipping; Eliot taps his fists to remind him to bring them up again as Alec continues. "Or, like, you get beat." It's pretty much what Eliot had been talking about six weeks ago. The I told you so is so loud in his head that it very nearly comes out, but he's stopped cold by Alec's words, coming at him like a roundhouse that he should've been expecting.
"Thing is, though, if it's not you who goes down, if it's me or one of the others-" Cutting him off, Eliot swings back out of range and steps around Alec, tapping him hard in the side. It's enough to wind him, and yeah. The tap's confirmation, too, and they both know it, but Alec finishes anyway. "You'd do what you could, but you wouldn't get..." He takes a breath, either because he needs it, or he's rethinking. "I just can't see you sticking around long, after."
His words are immediately followed with an improvised knee to Eliot's torso that sends him back-stepping to regain his balance. It doesn't take long to recover, but it's surprising nonetheless. Alec's gotten better at distracting his opponent that Eliot's realized. It's a good play- the guy knows how to pick a sore spot- but it won't work twice. Sweeping Alec's feet out from under him, Eliot follows him down, his knees protesting as they hit the mat to grab Alec's wrists.
"Hardison-" he manages, but Alec's struggling too vehemently, and shaking his head, not allowing the interruption.
"Don't worry about it," he says, and it's probably the only time in his entire life Eliot will hear those words being spoken by someone whose wrists he's grinding in his fists. "Seriously. I just figured that if we're all here, you will be too, and I got a-" Alec's got to catch his breath, here, and stops fighting. He also starts grinning. "Let's just say that I've got a vested interest in making sure that happens. Plus, I figured that you'd be so impressed by the physical torment I'd endure for your peace of mind that you might get overcome with the need to make out with me instead."
Eliot loosens his hold a little, but not enough that Alec can move, finds himself grinning back at him. "Yeah? How's that working for you?"
"Depends," Alec twists again, tries in vain to dislodge him before giving up, but he's got a hand free now and enough of a grip on Eliot's shoulder that he's able to drag him down close. It's an adrenaline kiss, it's not the first one they've shared but it's the first one where there's no panic behind it, just rushing blood and heart rates that haven't come down yet. There's a new bruise back by Alec's ear, on the angle of his jaw, that Eliot won't apologize for even if he wants to. Kisses it dryly, once, before twisting to the side and half dragging Hardison with him, attacking his mouth like he had something left to teach him.
Through it all, with every move and shift, Alec laughs quietly into the kiss, like he's decided he's won or something.
And maybe Alec has, because Eliot hasn't forgotten that he'd heard him. He doesn't even have to lie and say that Alec's wrong, or admit that he'd just brought up the thing that Eliot's newer nightmares are made of, because they don't have to talk about it. It's just a thing they both know about, something they can keep on the radar that might not get close enough to have to fight. And Eliot's not the only one hell bent on preventing it, because Alec's here, too, pressing back from the mat.
They can spar this shit out, they don't actually have to fight at all.
Fandom/ Pairing: Leverage, Alec/Eliot
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue, don't take this too seriously.
A/N: Written for the wonderful, generous and patient ldydragon7, who was kind enough to bid on my offering on fandomaid. Thanks dearie! Hugs!
Summary: Alec doesn't want to let Eliot teach him how to fight.
Parker had bugged him for lessons. Relentlessly.
She'd stalked him for weeks, harangued him during jobs, and when that hadn't worked, she'd broken into his house and attacked him with a sock full of pennies, all from 1987. It had started out rough, but smoothed out as the hours passed. After the next job, she'd started using the door, even waiting for him to put his groceries away and head towards the back yard, first. They'd been doing alternate Thursdays ever since. Next week, they're moving it out of his house and over to some warehouse she's found. No mats, no holds barred, because she says he's coddling her. He's looking forward to it more than he'll admit.
Sophie had asked nicely.
"You never know when someone's going to get a bit... handsy," she'd said with a distasteful shudder, and the next day, had shown up at his house wearing perfectly tailored workout clothes and carrying a matching purse. He'd pulled his punches like crazy, not because he thought she couldn't handle it, but because honestly, if her face got messed up two days before a job came, he'd never hear the end of it. She puts her hips into her punches, now; they land sharply, with a startling amount of power. She's mastered six more ways to break a hold, and they've only been at it for two months.
Nate had never shown any interest at all.
Then again, as far as Eliot was concerned, Nate probably had what was coming to him half the time anyway. He could hold his own well enough when it came down to it, but his interests were more mercurial than merely inflicting physical damage. And honestly? If he was doing his job right, no mark would dream of attacking him. And for all his flaws, Eliot still hasn't met anyone better at it.
Hardison, though. Alec's an entirely different ball of wax.
He'd cracked jokes at first, but the more Eliot pressed, the more his defenses had gone up. He'd started voicing his disinterest in louder and louder tones. There was a nerve, there, and Eliot knew he was poking at it.
Hinting to Sophie that maybe she could nudge Nate to make it an order hadn't helped, either. When Nate had tried, three days later, Parker had laughed so loudly that Alec stopped talking to Eliot for nearly two days.
---
"Just don't see the point, is all," Alec finally says one Saturday morning, when pure luck means Eliot can catch him still in the process of waking up; Alec's finally off guard enough to broach the subject. "Ain't like you never come through in the end."
"If I'm distracted worrying about you getting your ass kicked, my attention isn't on the fight in front of me," Eliot explains, dimly optimistic that maybe he's getting somewhere, this time. "Which means it's going to take melonger to come through in the end."
Hardison nods to himself, staring out the window as he considers, and it might be real progress that they're making, here, which is why their phones both start buzzing. It's Nate. A new client. Meeting in an hour. The usual.
Also as usual, once he's awake and settled back into himself, he stays there for the next few days. Alec manages to derail every conversation that even threatens to go anywhere near, well, threats and how to deal with them.
It's enough that Eliot half considers making a few of his own.
---
It's Sophie who points out that Hardison probably liked having the entire incident-
-Incident. Right. They'd buried him alive-
-thrown in his face about as much as Eliot likes anyone mentioning that afternoon at the carnival.
Sophie might have a point.
Eliot's been going over it in his head for weeks. Not Miley's extraction from the hall of mirrors, not the part where the crew had come close enough to winning, not even the movements behind his closed eyes when he'd fought Roper. But that moment where he'd been distracted, lost sight of Miley when he should've been watching her. And how he'd focused on fighting the guy on the ride when he should've checked for comrades in the control booth.
They'd been stupid mistakes. He's been making too many of them lately.
Let's not even bring up Sterling's drugged coffee.
He's been skipping too many training sessions, lately. Injuries are taking longer to heal, these days. Alec's place just doesn't have the room. Splitting pitchers at McRory's with the crew isn't the nightmarish endeavor that it once was. Whatever's coming, it'll be his own damned fault. Because if he can't do his job the way it needs to be done, well. He can't do his job at all.
---
Eliot gets it. Alec's the nice guy. He's the kindest of them all, definitely the most selfless, and a lot of other things besides that had drawn Eliot in so many months ago, when he'd still been blown away by their mere existence.
He'd be the first one to sacrifice himself in order to help someone else. His hero complex was the exact sort of thing that would get him killed, one of these days. He'd probably always been that way, and the fact that Eliot loved that about him- had fallen in love with him for that exact reason- didn't make it any less problematic.
Alec will joke about being a bad guy, even brag about being a criminal mastermind. But the only reason he's not a white-hat hacker pressed into service by the FBI is that he's never been caught. He's not a Bad Guy. Doesn't honestly think of himself that way, not deep deep down. Eliot can't, either.
---
Eliot tries bribes, but finds he's not so good at holding out on Alec when it's late at night and he's crawling between the sheets next to him. He'll punch out the voice boxes of anyone who says so, but he's far too head over heels to start churlishly avoiding him until he gets his way. So he tries logic.
"The best way for me to stay on my game is to have to explain it to someone else," he insists, drumming his fingers on the table and waiting for Nate to finally decide which con he wants to use, here.
"Funny thing about that," Alec suspects that he's being conned, and he's not entirely wrong, when it comes right down to it. "That's pretty much the exact thing I said when I was trying to show you how to navigate file structures, isn't it? You know, those things you adamantly refused to have anything at all to do with?"
Eliot doesn't have an instant rebuttal for that, and by the time he comes up with one- he's honestly ready to make a deal, one hour on the computer in exchange for one hour in the gym- Alec's already hip-deep in bank accounts again. The job ramps up pretty quickly after that, and by the time they've got five minutes to breathe, Alec's insisting that he's surpassed his annual physical exertion allowance running from the Russians for three hours. Eliot's honestly too tired to fight him.
---
He tries leveraging the team.
"You're a good target, you know that, right? A sitting duck, out in the van, on your own and out of range. You go down, the rest of us are completely hobbled. Nate's plans aren't going to mean a thing if he can't get them to us, and if you weren't there to dig up the information on our marks, they'd stop existing pretty damned quick."
Turns out it's exactly the wrong thing to say.
"I've got backup plans for my backup plans, and always know my exits." Alec stands, his hands clearly want to become fists but he's just not built for it, and has to settle to sigh disappointedly instead. Oddly enough, it's probably twice as effective. "You want to start holding my hand while I check my email next, or do you think I can manage it?"
---
The one he feels worst about, though, is that he pretty much resorts to emotional blackmail.
"You need to learn to defend yourself, even if you don't want to. Especially if you don't want to. And besides. I can't always be there," he grinds out, trying not to sound as frustrated as he is, but he's exhausted and tired of wanting this. "One day I might not be."
"Moot point, then, ain't it?" Alec levels a steady gaze in Eliot's direction that's enough to make him regret speaking at all. "'Cause if that day ever comes, I don't think any of us are going to be there anyway." He's just too damned calm sounding, like he's given this some thought. Like it's kept him up nights, and he's got plans and contingencies in place, and he's already predicted every way this crew is going to fall apart, and damn Eliot for bringing it up, anyway.
---
Eventually, though, Alec gives in. It's out of the blue on a Saturday morning, and Eliot doesn't even know why it happens. He does know, however, that he's not supposed to feel so slightly disappointed when it does. Like he's running the risk of taking the shine off something perfect. The capitulation doesn't mean anything more than what it is, Eliot knows this. But part of him really regrets that he's got to change gears. He has to start training Alec how to never do it again.
---
It's not surprising, but Hardison's really bad at this.
"No, you've got to get your hands up. Like this," Eliot grabs Alec's fists, brings them up closer to shoulder level. "Blocking is great when you can manage it, but it's more important to not be where the punch is about to land. The guy hitting you's already chosen his target, so you're probably going to get hit. Usually, the best you can do is minimize the impact." Lunging again, Eliot pulls the punch at the last second, striking Alec in the stomach, just enough that he feels it, but not enough that he can use being winded as an excuse to quit. Alec's still trying to block, still losing what little position his fists have.
"Now, if you step back, or even just lean out of the way, that same punch?" He steps back, repeats the punch more slowly this time, but when his fist stops at the same point, Alec's not standing there; he's still inches away, his weight shifted onto his back foot and already following with his right. "Yeah, just like that." He catches himself almost returning Alec's too-proud grin, stops himself before he can get derailed. "Why is that?"
"Best defense is a good offense," Alec manages not to roll his eyes as he repeats Eliot's earlier words; they've both gone over this too many times to mention. "Buys some time to figure out what comes next."
"Okay. Good," Eliot nods, and they drill it for the next ten minutes. Some punches he pulls more than others. They're still connecting far too often, but Hardison's getting irritated.
Soon, he'll be fighting back.
---
They've been doing this for about a month, and Eliot's still valiantly holding back the I told you so that's been on the tip of his tongue for the past seven sessions, but the curiosity is finally getting to him.
"So, I gotta ask," Eliot steps back, out of reach, only aware that he's shifting his weight to his front foot because he's watching to make sure that Alec's doing the same. "Why did you finally agree?"
Alec shrugs, glancing away. For an instant, he's left himself open, but Eliot doesn't risk an attack, just in case Alec's about to finally start talking. Because there's something to tell, that much is obvious.
"It's the crew, you know?" Alec's quicker to start his punches from the hip, but he's still telegraphing. Eliot redirects the impact, feels it sliding off of his forearm and reminds himself to stay in defensive mode. "I mean, we're family. But it's not going to last forever." Repeating the jab, he follows with a cross that's on target enough that it connects, and Alec's as startled as Eliot when his head snaps back.
"Nice." Eliot knows he's fine, but grimaces anyway, swiveling his jaw and checking for range of motion as the pit forms in his chest. Shaking his head quickly and rolling his shoulders, he waves his hand. If Alec thinks he's covering for getting hit, rather than covering the dread that Alec's words are fostering, so much the better. "Anyhow. You were saying. Not lasting forever."
"Like maybe Nate and Sophie's thing will implode, or Parker will get bored or I'll miss something obvious and land us all in prison, you know?" His posture's slipping; Eliot taps his fists to remind him to bring them up again as Alec continues. "Or, like, you get beat." It's pretty much what Eliot had been talking about six weeks ago. The I told you so is so loud in his head that it very nearly comes out, but he's stopped cold by Alec's words, coming at him like a roundhouse that he should've been expecting.
"Thing is, though, if it's not you who goes down, if it's me or one of the others-" Cutting him off, Eliot swings back out of range and steps around Alec, tapping him hard in the side. It's enough to wind him, and yeah. The tap's confirmation, too, and they both know it, but Alec finishes anyway. "You'd do what you could, but you wouldn't get..." He takes a breath, either because he needs it, or he's rethinking. "I just can't see you sticking around long, after."
His words are immediately followed with an improvised knee to Eliot's torso that sends him back-stepping to regain his balance. It doesn't take long to recover, but it's surprising nonetheless. Alec's gotten better at distracting his opponent that Eliot's realized. It's a good play- the guy knows how to pick a sore spot- but it won't work twice. Sweeping Alec's feet out from under him, Eliot follows him down, his knees protesting as they hit the mat to grab Alec's wrists.
"Hardison-" he manages, but Alec's struggling too vehemently, and shaking his head, not allowing the interruption.
"Don't worry about it," he says, and it's probably the only time in his entire life Eliot will hear those words being spoken by someone whose wrists he's grinding in his fists. "Seriously. I just figured that if we're all here, you will be too, and I got a-" Alec's got to catch his breath, here, and stops fighting. He also starts grinning. "Let's just say that I've got a vested interest in making sure that happens. Plus, I figured that you'd be so impressed by the physical torment I'd endure for your peace of mind that you might get overcome with the need to make out with me instead."
Eliot loosens his hold a little, but not enough that Alec can move, finds himself grinning back at him. "Yeah? How's that working for you?"
"Depends," Alec twists again, tries in vain to dislodge him before giving up, but he's got a hand free now and enough of a grip on Eliot's shoulder that he's able to drag him down close. It's an adrenaline kiss, it's not the first one they've shared but it's the first one where there's no panic behind it, just rushing blood and heart rates that haven't come down yet. There's a new bruise back by Alec's ear, on the angle of his jaw, that Eliot won't apologize for even if he wants to. Kisses it dryly, once, before twisting to the side and half dragging Hardison with him, attacking his mouth like he had something left to teach him.
Through it all, with every move and shift, Alec laughs quietly into the kiss, like he's decided he's won or something.
And maybe Alec has, because Eliot hasn't forgotten that he'd heard him. He doesn't even have to lie and say that Alec's wrong, or admit that he'd just brought up the thing that Eliot's newer nightmares are made of, because they don't have to talk about it. It's just a thing they both know about, something they can keep on the radar that might not get close enough to have to fight. And Eliot's not the only one hell bent on preventing it, because Alec's here, too, pressing back from the mat.
They can spar this shit out, they don't actually have to fight at all.