Leverage SeSa Fic: Living for the Weekend
Title: Living for the Weekend
Author: jendavis
Written For: bandwidth_limit, for leverage_sesa. Hope you like it!
Rating: G
Word Count:
Characters: Sophie/Nate, Team
Summary: After working a long con infiltrating the Boston PD, Sophie just wants to on vacation with Nate. Apparently, she's not the only one.
Warnings: N/A
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue, don't take this too seriously.
Notes: I wasn't able to work in the Rizzoli and Isles part of the prompt, as I've never seen the show, but I hope bandwidth_limit will forgive me!
It's taken two and a half months to get everyone in place, and the only thing preventing the entire team from turning on Nate and just walking away is the fact that today is the day they're bringing Captain John DeWitt down.
Eliot's not even needed on set, so to speak, for a few more hours. He's been benched for two months, unable even to leave town in case their best chance at hitting DeWitt arose in his absence. He's been snappish for weeks, probably needs this job over and done with more than Nate does, at this point.
Parker, poor thing, has essentially been working a customer service position in the police department's records, property and evidence unit. There haven't been any massive crises, yet, but it will be a relief- for Sophie as well, as she's had to talk her through an average of seventeen interactions a day- when the job's over.
Hardison, however, working in 911 dispatch, had had settled into his temporary position fairly well. His unit supervisor had given him a commendation for the speed at which he'd learned to handle the computer system, and he'd probably be up for promotion in another month or two were it not for the fact that one or two of his co-workers are, for lack of a better word, irritated by him.
"Seriously," he'd complained about one of the co-workers in question at one of their progress-report meetings at McRory's. "Don't know what his problem is. You'd think with everything goin' on here, he'd want someone to try lightening up the mood."
"Yeah," Eliot had settled for rolling his eyes. "Because I'm sure he's thinking that people calling 911 would feel a lot better when the dispatcher's cracking wise."
Unsurprisingly as the turnaround gets closer, the meetings at McRory's are getting shorter, as so far, despite their own frustration, the con is coming along quite swimmingly. It's just as well, as Eliot, Hardison and Parker's collective attention span is stretched much too far for this to carry on much longer.
It's best not to think too much about the near aneurysm Nate's been carrying for two months, coordinating their movements, playing out five games of chess in his head, plotting for every possible outcome.
Sophie can't say that she won't be glad to see the end of this job, either. The long con is only as fun as the theater. The rooftop pool of a luxury resort in Dubai? The sprawling estate of a proper English nobleman? All those places and lives that she's made her own, though never owned them- those are the stages she strives for. The dullness of the florescent lights of the city attorney's office just can't compete.
To say nothing of the unforgiving fabric of her costume, dully bland and respectable, professional and non-intimidating. Little assistance there, when seeking to win the heart of one John DeWitt, or conning him into revealing his department's dark and dirties.
There's another drawback as well- it's been there for the start, ever since Nate shook his head, saying they were insane to take on the case. And he'd been right. The Boston Police Department is far too close a target to hit, especially with a long con.
It had been Parker, though, who'd really pushed for the client.
"The police are going in and stealing from people," she'd said. "I'm a thief- I'm supposed to steal from people. They're supposed to protect people from people like me." Her rabbit-ear gesture around the word "protect" notwithstanding, it had been enough to get the ball rolling. Hardison's agreement had been inevitable, as had Nate's habit of needing to prove his genius against terrible odds. And eventually, two months later, that ball's rolled to here and now.
She's in her rented apartment, critically regarding her small closet of off-the-rack, trying to decide what an unmarried city attorney- what Melinda Franks- would wear on a second date with a police captain. Parker and Hardison in their offices, Eliot waiting in the wings.
Nate, thankfully, calls her phone instead. She removes her earbud and slips it into the purse she's chosen- nice, a little flirty if off-season, and DeWitt's seen her with it before. It won't startle him.
"You all set for your big date?"
"When this is finished, you're taking me to Tuscany." It's been too long, but the Piazza Grande in Arrezo, that lovely villa on the edge of Florence, with its view of Boboli Gardens and the city below; she's been feeling the pull, lately. For over a month, now.
"I, ah... thought we'd settled on Paris."
They had- she'd agreed readily enough when he'd suggested it last week, and Paris will be wonderful, really- but that's not the point. "John is taking me to Applebee's.
"Yes. Well. I'm sure he's doing the best he can on a policeman's salary." Nate's confidence, on most men, would be appalling. "And we talked about it. The restaurant is next door to the police department's off-site evidence lockup, which is where the deal's going down. And, besides. I already bought the, ah. The plane tickets."
"Last week, it was TGI Friday's, Nate."
"Then I'm sure you'll be thrilled when, in just a few hours, I whisk you away for a romantic jaunt to France."
He can't see her smirk or eye roll over the phone, so when Sophie sighs- she means it affectionately, she really does- enough is lost in translation that Nate when speaks again, he sounds hesitant, that appalling confidence fully faded.
"Though. Well. Italy is lovely, this time of year. I could exchange the tickets, or-"
Even after a year, he still gets like this sometimes, as if he's not quite certain that she wants this, wants him. And hell, It's her fault as much as his, those first cagey six months, not to mention the nearly five years of awkward fits and starts that came before. And she has spent more time with DeWitt over the past month than she has with Nate. The occasional night out after the team's left for the night haven't made a dent in the ten-hour day's Nate's been spending auditing Internal Affairs' affairs.
He's got to be on his game in a matter of minutes; there's no time for a real discussion right now.
"No, love, Tuscany is horrid this time of year." They both know she's lying, but she finds herself smiling when she speaks; he'll hear that for certain. Just in case, though, she adds, "I can't wait to get away. Just the two of us."
"Me too." Sophie can't see him over the phone, either, but she's willing to bet that he's blushing.
---
Finally, it's over. A nudge here, a push there. Parker and Hardison's radio and cell phone trickery. Eliot's performance as a bystander that had gotten caught up in the middle of it, three unconscious gangsters notwithstanding. DeWitt's been caught selling seized cocaine to one of Boston's largest drug rings, Nate's already given his report, and the job is finally finished.
Afterwards, Parker and Hardison file into Nate's apartment, chattering about some video game that isn't, as far as Sophie can tell, that World of Warcraft thing, but the conversation breaks off when they notice them standing by the counter, as if this weren't actually Nate's apartment.
"So," Hardison recovers first. "Car's outside, we're packed and ready to go, what about you guys?"
Parker's face splits into a grin, she's bouncing with excitement. "You know the Musée Rodin just installed a new laser system in their main gallery? Apparently they've hit on true random."
"Speaking of true random," Nate tries to rein them in. "Ah. Guys? What are you talking about?"
"Your flight was full, but I managed to get us on a direct flight that's actually going to put the two of us on the ground an hour before you guys arrive. It's worse than redeye, and we don't have to leave for another three hours, but I figure we could all drive over to the airport together. What'd you do, Nate?" He smirks, clearly disappointed, as he digs out his phone and holds it up for Nate to see. "Use Priceline?"
"This is going to be so fun!" Parker squeals, ducking around the counter. Grabbing the cereal out of the cupboard, she dives in again to rummage for a bowl. A very large bowl, as it turns out, into which she upends the entire box.
"Nate," she groans, grabbing a nearly full jug of milk out of the fridge. "You're out of milk."
"You are now, anyway," Hardison grins, watching her empty it into the bowl before turning his attention back to Nate. "Anyhow. Yeah. Be good to get out of here, you know? Team vacation, maybe pick up a job that doesn't require sitting on our asses working day jobs for two months. Get our groove back."
Nate's eyes are calculating. "The two of you."
"What?" Hardison's eyes are a little wide, flicker towards Parker almost imperceptibly, though it's so routine these days that even Nate probably can see it.
"You said the two of you would be landing before us. So where's Eliot's ticket for this grand team excursion?"
Hardison's nervous now, his gestures too wide for the points he's making. "You've seen how he's been lately. You think the thing he wants right now is more time hanging with us?"
Also routine, thankfully, is Parker's obliviousness when she's not actively trying; she apparently thinks that Hardison's antics are covering up something else entirely. She speaks with her mouth full
"Eliot said Officer Munoz was hot when we were going through the lineup a few weeks ago. She doesn't get done with work until seven thirty, so Hardison delayed receipt of his release papers until..." Parker finally swallows as she notices that Hardison's eyes are wide, that he's this close to shaking his head in warning.
As much as Sophie would rather the two of them were, perhaps, a bit more eager to be on their way, she laughs. "Hardison?"
"Ten bucks says she gives him a ride." His green suddenly turns irritated as he realizes what he's just said. "Home. Get your mind out of the gutter, Nate. And anyhow-"
"You know that if Eliot finds out you were playing matchmaker," Nate smirks, "he's going to kill you. Never mind the extra ten hours he's spending in jail."
"Which is also why being several countries away before he finds out seems like a very good idea," Hardison points out.
"Seriously?" Nate shakes his head, and is about to say more, when-
"She was really hot," Parker promises, before heading to Nate's couch with the rest of her cereal. With a shrug, Hardison follows, perching on the couch next to her. He dithers for nearly a minute, trying to figure out how closely to sit as she turns on the DVD player. Fiddler on the Roof. Again.
Apparently, this is what Sophie's vacation is turning into, now. Wonderful. She can feel her shoulders sagging, but regains her posture again the moment she hears Nate behind her. He's about to apologize, maybe, or try talking her around.
He does neither of these things. "We were never that bad, were we?"
"That bad?" Sophie widens her eyes in disbelief as she turns. Their vacation- hell, their first day off in two months is turning into anything but, and Nate's thinking instead about-
"At this," Nate says, nodding at Parker and Hardison, deliberately reading her expression as confusion. And apparently that's all he thinks needs to be said on the matter.
---
"Sophie's got too many bags to fit in the car?" Pulling the car door shut, it's just two of them now. There's no reason to bury her annoyance any further. "I have three, Nate, including my purse. You do realize, don't you, that for a trip of this length-"
"Ah, yeah, I know. I just figured, under the circumstances, that maybe a little time off from the team would do you some good right now, so driving separately seemed like a good idea.
"It was supposed to be weeks off," she points out, hating how needling she sounds. She'll be fine with it by the time they all catch up in Paris, she knows she will, but for now? She's disappointed.
"Well, you're getting that, too."
"Hmm?"
"Weeks," Nate says. "Away from the team. Well. You're still going to have to put up with me, but-" he glances sideways at her, entirely too much at ease for the argument they're having, and then realization strikes. "Oh. Yes. Hardison said it himself. They're heading to Paris."
"That's the entire problem," she leans back against the leather of her seat. It occurs to her that she could just tell him to turn the car around, to drive her home.
Which wouldn't solve a thing. Fifteen minutes, and they'll be at the airport.
"I don't see why, seeing as we're headed to Italy."
"But." Sophie swivels her head to look at Nate, finds him smirking in profile. "You bought tickets for Paris-" Realization hits the way it always does at the end of the job, when Nate's added another layer of the turnaround, when despite everything, he's really held all the cards despite his every appearance. "You deliberately bought tickets for Paris, knowing they'd follow suit the moment the transaction went through."
Nodding, Nate reaches into his coat pocket and extracts the tickets and two passports. Flipping them open, Sophie recognizes nothing but their own faces. The names are new, not among the several identities that Hardison's created for the team.
"Hardison won't be looking for us until he realizes we're not there, and even then, I don't think he'll worry too much about it. Kinda get the sense that he and Parker could use a little time together, just the two of them. Maybe figure things out."
Sophie's laughing before she can think to stop herself or even dress it up as anything other than what it is. "You're terrible." What she means, though, is terribly good, and she wants to ask how long he's been planning this, but the dates of issuance give enough of an indication. Six and eight months ago. The dates could be as fake as the names, but the edges of the papers are smooth, a little worn. It's the tickets- to Florence- that give her a clearer picture. They'd been purchased a month and a half ago. Before she'd even known she'd wanted to go.
"Oh."
Terribly good.
Nate's driving, so she can't do more than interlace her fingers over his on the gearshift for a moment. Once they're stopped at the light heading into the airport, though, he picks her hand up, kisses the back her hand.
"So. We good?"
The word's too small for what they are, right now, but her grin's not letting her get any words out. The light turns green, and in a few moments they'll be parking in the lot. She'll kiss him properly, then, when they're getting their luggage out of the trunk, or maybe when they're standing in line for security, because sometimes, the staging of the scene isn't all that important.
A stray thought catches at her as she steps out of the car. "You realize that when Hardison finds out you're playing matchmaker..."
"He'll flail awkwardly and sputter a lot. I know we'll only be several hundred miles away, but I don't think the noise will reach us."
---
Ten hours later
Officer Munoz- Rosalie- is in the kitchen grabbing some beers out of the fridge. It's enough time for Eliot to check his phone. Nate and Sophie are arriving in Tuscany. Parker and Hardison are on their way to Paris. It's the easiest con he's ever pulled, it's got to be a record.
"Man," he says, carefully careless as Nate watched Sophie flipping through her book. "What is it with her and the Renaissance?" Passing Nate a beer, he shakes his head, pretends not to see the speculation spreading out across his face. "Chicks, man."
A month later- and Nate's not nearly as hard to track as he'd like to believe, especially when he's going to a loudmouth like Clint for his ID, or buying tickets for Paris so obviously on a credit card he knows Hardison's monitoring. The stage is set for act two, and all it takes is a minor push.
"Hey, Parker. You hear about the Musée Rodin's security upgrades?"
They're idiots, but they're smart, and take care of the rest of it on their own. And hell, he might even end up owing Hardison a beer, when he gets back.
"You look an awful lot like the cat that caught the canary, for someone who just spent the night in jail." Rosalie grins, easing down on the couch next to him, her knee pressing against his.
Eliot shrugs. "What can I say? I'm finally on vacation. Only faces I've got to see, for the next few weeks, are faces I want to see." And if he's extremely lucky, by the time the next job rolls around, the crew will have finally worked out all their irritating interpersonal crap.
Rosalie just laughs, all blinding white teeth, and raises her beer in a toast. "So, what's first on your itinerary?"
"I don't know," Eliot sips his beer, grins back. "But I've got some ideas."
And so far, they're working out perfectly.
Author: jendavis
Written For: bandwidth_limit, for leverage_sesa. Hope you like it!
Rating: G
Word Count:
Characters: Sophie/Nate, Team
Summary: After working a long con infiltrating the Boston PD, Sophie just wants to on vacation with Nate. Apparently, she's not the only one.
Warnings: N/A
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue, don't take this too seriously.
Notes: I wasn't able to work in the Rizzoli and Isles part of the prompt, as I've never seen the show, but I hope bandwidth_limit will forgive me!
It's taken two and a half months to get everyone in place, and the only thing preventing the entire team from turning on Nate and just walking away is the fact that today is the day they're bringing Captain John DeWitt down.
Eliot's not even needed on set, so to speak, for a few more hours. He's been benched for two months, unable even to leave town in case their best chance at hitting DeWitt arose in his absence. He's been snappish for weeks, probably needs this job over and done with more than Nate does, at this point.
Parker, poor thing, has essentially been working a customer service position in the police department's records, property and evidence unit. There haven't been any massive crises, yet, but it will be a relief- for Sophie as well, as she's had to talk her through an average of seventeen interactions a day- when the job's over.
Hardison, however, working in 911 dispatch, had had settled into his temporary position fairly well. His unit supervisor had given him a commendation for the speed at which he'd learned to handle the computer system, and he'd probably be up for promotion in another month or two were it not for the fact that one or two of his co-workers are, for lack of a better word, irritated by him.
"Seriously," he'd complained about one of the co-workers in question at one of their progress-report meetings at McRory's. "Don't know what his problem is. You'd think with everything goin' on here, he'd want someone to try lightening up the mood."
"Yeah," Eliot had settled for rolling his eyes. "Because I'm sure he's thinking that people calling 911 would feel a lot better when the dispatcher's cracking wise."
Unsurprisingly as the turnaround gets closer, the meetings at McRory's are getting shorter, as so far, despite their own frustration, the con is coming along quite swimmingly. It's just as well, as Eliot, Hardison and Parker's collective attention span is stretched much too far for this to carry on much longer.
It's best not to think too much about the near aneurysm Nate's been carrying for two months, coordinating their movements, playing out five games of chess in his head, plotting for every possible outcome.
Sophie can't say that she won't be glad to see the end of this job, either. The long con is only as fun as the theater. The rooftop pool of a luxury resort in Dubai? The sprawling estate of a proper English nobleman? All those places and lives that she's made her own, though never owned them- those are the stages she strives for. The dullness of the florescent lights of the city attorney's office just can't compete.
To say nothing of the unforgiving fabric of her costume, dully bland and respectable, professional and non-intimidating. Little assistance there, when seeking to win the heart of one John DeWitt, or conning him into revealing his department's dark and dirties.
There's another drawback as well- it's been there for the start, ever since Nate shook his head, saying they were insane to take on the case. And he'd been right. The Boston Police Department is far too close a target to hit, especially with a long con.
It had been Parker, though, who'd really pushed for the client.
"The police are going in and stealing from people," she'd said. "I'm a thief- I'm supposed to steal from people. They're supposed to protect people from people like me." Her rabbit-ear gesture around the word "protect" notwithstanding, it had been enough to get the ball rolling. Hardison's agreement had been inevitable, as had Nate's habit of needing to prove his genius against terrible odds. And eventually, two months later, that ball's rolled to here and now.
She's in her rented apartment, critically regarding her small closet of off-the-rack, trying to decide what an unmarried city attorney- what Melinda Franks- would wear on a second date with a police captain. Parker and Hardison in their offices, Eliot waiting in the wings.
Nate, thankfully, calls her phone instead. She removes her earbud and slips it into the purse she's chosen- nice, a little flirty if off-season, and DeWitt's seen her with it before. It won't startle him.
"You all set for your big date?"
"When this is finished, you're taking me to Tuscany." It's been too long, but the Piazza Grande in Arrezo, that lovely villa on the edge of Florence, with its view of Boboli Gardens and the city below; she's been feeling the pull, lately. For over a month, now.
"I, ah... thought we'd settled on Paris."
They had- she'd agreed readily enough when he'd suggested it last week, and Paris will be wonderful, really- but that's not the point. "John is taking me to Applebee's.
"Yes. Well. I'm sure he's doing the best he can on a policeman's salary." Nate's confidence, on most men, would be appalling. "And we talked about it. The restaurant is next door to the police department's off-site evidence lockup, which is where the deal's going down. And, besides. I already bought the, ah. The plane tickets."
"Last week, it was TGI Friday's, Nate."
"Then I'm sure you'll be thrilled when, in just a few hours, I whisk you away for a romantic jaunt to France."
He can't see her smirk or eye roll over the phone, so when Sophie sighs- she means it affectionately, she really does- enough is lost in translation that Nate when speaks again, he sounds hesitant, that appalling confidence fully faded.
"Though. Well. Italy is lovely, this time of year. I could exchange the tickets, or-"
Even after a year, he still gets like this sometimes, as if he's not quite certain that she wants this, wants him. And hell, It's her fault as much as his, those first cagey six months, not to mention the nearly five years of awkward fits and starts that came before. And she has spent more time with DeWitt over the past month than she has with Nate. The occasional night out after the team's left for the night haven't made a dent in the ten-hour day's Nate's been spending auditing Internal Affairs' affairs.
He's got to be on his game in a matter of minutes; there's no time for a real discussion right now.
"No, love, Tuscany is horrid this time of year." They both know she's lying, but she finds herself smiling when she speaks; he'll hear that for certain. Just in case, though, she adds, "I can't wait to get away. Just the two of us."
"Me too." Sophie can't see him over the phone, either, but she's willing to bet that he's blushing.
---
Finally, it's over. A nudge here, a push there. Parker and Hardison's radio and cell phone trickery. Eliot's performance as a bystander that had gotten caught up in the middle of it, three unconscious gangsters notwithstanding. DeWitt's been caught selling seized cocaine to one of Boston's largest drug rings, Nate's already given his report, and the job is finally finished.
Afterwards, Parker and Hardison file into Nate's apartment, chattering about some video game that isn't, as far as Sophie can tell, that World of Warcraft thing, but the conversation breaks off when they notice them standing by the counter, as if this weren't actually Nate's apartment.
"So," Hardison recovers first. "Car's outside, we're packed and ready to go, what about you guys?"
Parker's face splits into a grin, she's bouncing with excitement. "You know the Musée Rodin just installed a new laser system in their main gallery? Apparently they've hit on true random."
"Speaking of true random," Nate tries to rein them in. "Ah. Guys? What are you talking about?"
"Your flight was full, but I managed to get us on a direct flight that's actually going to put the two of us on the ground an hour before you guys arrive. It's worse than redeye, and we don't have to leave for another three hours, but I figure we could all drive over to the airport together. What'd you do, Nate?" He smirks, clearly disappointed, as he digs out his phone and holds it up for Nate to see. "Use Priceline?"
"This is going to be so fun!" Parker squeals, ducking around the counter. Grabbing the cereal out of the cupboard, she dives in again to rummage for a bowl. A very large bowl, as it turns out, into which she upends the entire box.
"Nate," she groans, grabbing a nearly full jug of milk out of the fridge. "You're out of milk."
"You are now, anyway," Hardison grins, watching her empty it into the bowl before turning his attention back to Nate. "Anyhow. Yeah. Be good to get out of here, you know? Team vacation, maybe pick up a job that doesn't require sitting on our asses working day jobs for two months. Get our groove back."
Nate's eyes are calculating. "The two of you."
"What?" Hardison's eyes are a little wide, flicker towards Parker almost imperceptibly, though it's so routine these days that even Nate probably can see it.
"You said the two of you would be landing before us. So where's Eliot's ticket for this grand team excursion?"
Hardison's nervous now, his gestures too wide for the points he's making. "You've seen how he's been lately. You think the thing he wants right now is more time hanging with us?"
Also routine, thankfully, is Parker's obliviousness when she's not actively trying; she apparently thinks that Hardison's antics are covering up something else entirely. She speaks with her mouth full
"Eliot said Officer Munoz was hot when we were going through the lineup a few weeks ago. She doesn't get done with work until seven thirty, so Hardison delayed receipt of his release papers until..." Parker finally swallows as she notices that Hardison's eyes are wide, that he's this close to shaking his head in warning.
As much as Sophie would rather the two of them were, perhaps, a bit more eager to be on their way, she laughs. "Hardison?"
"Ten bucks says she gives him a ride." His green suddenly turns irritated as he realizes what he's just said. "Home. Get your mind out of the gutter, Nate. And anyhow-"
"You know that if Eliot finds out you were playing matchmaker," Nate smirks, "he's going to kill you. Never mind the extra ten hours he's spending in jail."
"Which is also why being several countries away before he finds out seems like a very good idea," Hardison points out.
"Seriously?" Nate shakes his head, and is about to say more, when-
"She was really hot," Parker promises, before heading to Nate's couch with the rest of her cereal. With a shrug, Hardison follows, perching on the couch next to her. He dithers for nearly a minute, trying to figure out how closely to sit as she turns on the DVD player. Fiddler on the Roof. Again.
Apparently, this is what Sophie's vacation is turning into, now. Wonderful. She can feel her shoulders sagging, but regains her posture again the moment she hears Nate behind her. He's about to apologize, maybe, or try talking her around.
He does neither of these things. "We were never that bad, were we?"
"That bad?" Sophie widens her eyes in disbelief as she turns. Their vacation- hell, their first day off in two months is turning into anything but, and Nate's thinking instead about-
"At this," Nate says, nodding at Parker and Hardison, deliberately reading her expression as confusion. And apparently that's all he thinks needs to be said on the matter.
---
"Sophie's got too many bags to fit in the car?" Pulling the car door shut, it's just two of them now. There's no reason to bury her annoyance any further. "I have three, Nate, including my purse. You do realize, don't you, that for a trip of this length-"
"Ah, yeah, I know. I just figured, under the circumstances, that maybe a little time off from the team would do you some good right now, so driving separately seemed like a good idea.
"It was supposed to be weeks off," she points out, hating how needling she sounds. She'll be fine with it by the time they all catch up in Paris, she knows she will, but for now? She's disappointed.
"Well, you're getting that, too."
"Hmm?"
"Weeks," Nate says. "Away from the team. Well. You're still going to have to put up with me, but-" he glances sideways at her, entirely too much at ease for the argument they're having, and then realization strikes. "Oh. Yes. Hardison said it himself. They're heading to Paris."
"That's the entire problem," she leans back against the leather of her seat. It occurs to her that she could just tell him to turn the car around, to drive her home.
Which wouldn't solve a thing. Fifteen minutes, and they'll be at the airport.
"I don't see why, seeing as we're headed to Italy."
"But." Sophie swivels her head to look at Nate, finds him smirking in profile. "You bought tickets for Paris-" Realization hits the way it always does at the end of the job, when Nate's added another layer of the turnaround, when despite everything, he's really held all the cards despite his every appearance. "You deliberately bought tickets for Paris, knowing they'd follow suit the moment the transaction went through."
Nodding, Nate reaches into his coat pocket and extracts the tickets and two passports. Flipping them open, Sophie recognizes nothing but their own faces. The names are new, not among the several identities that Hardison's created for the team.
"Hardison won't be looking for us until he realizes we're not there, and even then, I don't think he'll worry too much about it. Kinda get the sense that he and Parker could use a little time together, just the two of them. Maybe figure things out."
Sophie's laughing before she can think to stop herself or even dress it up as anything other than what it is. "You're terrible." What she means, though, is terribly good, and she wants to ask how long he's been planning this, but the dates of issuance give enough of an indication. Six and eight months ago. The dates could be as fake as the names, but the edges of the papers are smooth, a little worn. It's the tickets- to Florence- that give her a clearer picture. They'd been purchased a month and a half ago. Before she'd even known she'd wanted to go.
"Oh."
Terribly good.
Nate's driving, so she can't do more than interlace her fingers over his on the gearshift for a moment. Once they're stopped at the light heading into the airport, though, he picks her hand up, kisses the back her hand.
"So. We good?"
The word's too small for what they are, right now, but her grin's not letting her get any words out. The light turns green, and in a few moments they'll be parking in the lot. She'll kiss him properly, then, when they're getting their luggage out of the trunk, or maybe when they're standing in line for security, because sometimes, the staging of the scene isn't all that important.
A stray thought catches at her as she steps out of the car. "You realize that when Hardison finds out you're playing matchmaker..."
"He'll flail awkwardly and sputter a lot. I know we'll only be several hundred miles away, but I don't think the noise will reach us."
---
Ten hours later
Officer Munoz- Rosalie- is in the kitchen grabbing some beers out of the fridge. It's enough time for Eliot to check his phone. Nate and Sophie are arriving in Tuscany. Parker and Hardison are on their way to Paris. It's the easiest con he's ever pulled, it's got to be a record.
"Man," he says, carefully careless as Nate watched Sophie flipping through her book. "What is it with her and the Renaissance?" Passing Nate a beer, he shakes his head, pretends not to see the speculation spreading out across his face. "Chicks, man."
A month later- and Nate's not nearly as hard to track as he'd like to believe, especially when he's going to a loudmouth like Clint for his ID, or buying tickets for Paris so obviously on a credit card he knows Hardison's monitoring. The stage is set for act two, and all it takes is a minor push.
"Hey, Parker. You hear about the Musée Rodin's security upgrades?"
They're idiots, but they're smart, and take care of the rest of it on their own. And hell, he might even end up owing Hardison a beer, when he gets back.
"You look an awful lot like the cat that caught the canary, for someone who just spent the night in jail." Rosalie grins, easing down on the couch next to him, her knee pressing against his.
Eliot shrugs. "What can I say? I'm finally on vacation. Only faces I've got to see, for the next few weeks, are faces I want to see." And if he's extremely lucky, by the time the next job rolls around, the crew will have finally worked out all their irritating interpersonal crap.
Rosalie just laughs, all blinding white teeth, and raises her beer in a toast. "So, what's first on your itinerary?"
"I don't know," Eliot sips his beer, grins back. "But I've got some ideas."
And so far, they're working out perfectly.