Beat on the Brat (Eliot/Hardison, 1/1)
Title: Beat on the Brat
Rating: PG
Fandom/Pairing: Leverage: Alec Hardison/Eliot Spencer
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue, don't take this too seriously.
Summary: comment_fic fill for the prompt, " Hardison knows what Eliot really means when he threatens to punch him on a job."
"Oh, I'm gonna punch somebody," Eliot promises over the comm line, and it's probably not a completely empty threat. But Alec's seen more of Eliot's records than supposedly exist, and he knows one thing already: if Eliot Spencer's gunning for you, you'll never see it coming.
---
It's another job gone sideways, it's those hours before they've figured out how to salvage it. It's four more security guards coming up out of nowhere and an off-the-books security upgrade that's got Eliot pissed this time.
"Dammit, Hardison, when we're done here I'm gonna hit you so hard-" the threat's cut short this time; Alec can't quite make sense of the sound of fighting, but he can see it on the monitor feed; nothing to worry about.
"So my motivation for getting you a clear exit is what, exactly?" Alec rolls his eyes. But he's on it, gets the lock open. Ten minutes later, they're gone.
---
It's not like Eliot's the only one who ever throws threats around. Alec's weapons are different, that's all. It would take him two minutes to alert the fourteen domestic jurisdictions currently interested in Eliot Spencer of his exact location. He could light up the international agencies' radars in five.
He's not going to. He's not an idiot.
---
After the second year, it's insane to think that he'd ever considered it in the first place.
He's had brothers and sisters, growing up, sometimes. Some had stuck around longer than others. It doesn't occur to him to look them up as often as it should. It's hard getting to know someone when you're not expecting them to be around the same time next year.
He knows more about getting to know his siblings than he knows about getting them, about knowing them. But maybe that's changing.
Eliot still grumbles about causing him bodily harm on a weekly basis. As rough as he ever really gets, though, is grabbing Alec alarmingly tightly. For morale now that it's a thing.
All told, it's pretty much one and the same.
---
It's an insane hack. He needs weeks to pull it off, but what he's got is got half an hour, maybe less, and Sophie pacing the room behind him. She's wringing her hands as she guides Parker through her role at the convention center.
"Any time now, Hardison," Nate mutters, already halfway across town. He's got the flash drive in his pocket, empty for now, and threatening to stay that way if Alec can't get a lock on the security program's randomizer. The drive will be exactly what it can't be if Eliot's going to be able to pass it off to the buyers down at the dock in fifty minutes.
There's no way in hell this is going to work, they're screwed, they're beyond screwed, and he says so. He's not even sure if he means to say it out loud, because he's too close to throwing his monitor out the goddamned window to hear the crash.
His phone buzzes; it's a text from Eliot. According to the communications monitor, his earbud's still working, and GPS pins him waiting alone, five minutes from the drop location.
You're smart. You got this. And if you blow it, I'm punching you in the throat the minute I get back.
Alec doesn't have the time to text him back, just reading the text has cost him desperately needed seconds. But grinning doesn't cost anything, and it frees up his hands enough that maybe, just maybe, he'll pull this shit off.
---
"I'm gonna beat you either way, so you might as well fight back," Eliot says, even though he's been going embarrassingly easy on him. "And quit looking at my hands, you're making it too damned easy. Get your arms up like I showed you."
Another few minutes, and Alec's gone down again, on his knees, in a headlock, and all he can see is Parker grinning at him over the back of Nate's couch. All he can feel is Eliot's chest up against his back and the knee pressing almost painfully against the back of his calf.
It only lasts for a second, and it's gone.
---
It's close, this time- too damned close. Eliot actually does punch him, when they're done, but it's understandable, maybe even accidental, seeing as how he's trying to fight everyone off of him, because Eliot Spencer can do his own goddamned stitches and everyone should just get the hell out of his way.
When Alec drops by his place later that night bearing pizza and a six pack and this unease he just hasn't been able to shake, Eliot's not so sluggish that he's unable to glare at him when he opens the door. He does move aside, though, and they sit on the couch to watch the game. Alec pretends not to notice that Eliot's nursing the same beer he'd started with three hours later, and doesn't mention the bottle of heavy-duty painkillers he notices on the counter when he goes to the fridge for his third.
After he comes back with his fifth, Eliot opens one bleary eye at him, glancing down at the bottle in his hand.
"You even think of driving tonight, I'm gonna kick your ass."
Alec just nods, and eventually, nods off.
---
Eliot's leaning against the doorframe, hands in his pockets. Still worn, maybe, from all the shouting, still coming down from the fight that had started halfway through the job and probably hadn't ended, yet.
The others are still probably around, somewhere. Parker was last seen heading for the roof, and Sophie had gone down to the bar after Nate a while ago, but it's quiet up here right now, like the entire building's holding its breath because the next words might really be the ones to actually end them.
But Alec's not good at silence. "So what, you gonna punch my teeth into another area code?"
Eliot quirks a brow, takes a few steps into the room. "That depends on whether or not you're gonna keep packing."
Alec stretches his back, but there's not a whole lot of relief; the past week's still there in his spine, he's carrying that with him, at least. There's not much of him here in Nate's apartment, never really was. Just a few computers, odds and ends he's left over the years, piled up on the kitchen table. Cables, drives, detritus; they're about as useful as he himself is. Fuck, they'd nearly lost Sophie, this time.
"I fucked up."
"So did Nate. So did Sophie." Eliot shrugs. "So did I-"
"Only because I let the comm lines go down," Alec shakes his head. "Parker got herself clear. That ain't on you."
"Ain't on you, either," Eliot says, but he's being charitable. "So quit beating yourself up over it. That's my job."
And it's a little sick, maybe, but Alec feels a little better, afterwards, enough that when Nate eventually crawls up out of his hangover, they agree not to talk about it, that it's past. There's another client, more fucked than they are right now, and they've got a job to do.
---
"I oughta beat your head in," Eliot says, sitting down on the plastic chair beside Alec's hospital bed when it's his turn to keep watch.
"Rickart already beat you to the punch." Alec's heads all cloudy- his voice sounds rough in his own head, and it wasn't all that funny, but Eliot's grinning- he's the only one who's managed it without worry creeping in at the edges, but then again, it's just a concussion. Overnight observation. Not exactly the biggest deal in the world, but Alec will be glad when the nausea passes.
"Yeah, well," Eliot shrugs, trailing off. Nate had filled Alec in already. Rickart's not going to be a problem anymore, not for anyone; Eliot and Parker had made sure of it.
When the nausea wins out, bodily harm is threatened on account of Eliot's boots, which Alec's pretty sure he'd missed. But he helps him back up onto the bed afterwards. Alec's not dizzy enough to actually need the assistance, but Eliot's shoulder fits perfectly under his own; it's something else to focus on.
---
He's always known they were on a timeline, that things would get too hot, that they'd have to scatter eventually. He'd even suspected that Sterling would've been the one closing in on them.
But Alec's not expecting to open his wallet, his first night in Toronto, to find a slip of paper stuffed in between his credit cards. There's nothing on it but a phone number, scrawled in a hand that he'd known for years without realizing it, and the words "call me, or else."
It's hardly the worst threat he's ever faced, but it sticks in his head, there in the background.
It's a month before he's sure their tracks are buried well enough to even think about calling. He's surprised when the number still works, a little by the words that are spoken, but that's nothing compared to the shock of turning away from the baggage claim in Memphis two days later to find Eliot standing three feet behind him, then two.
The punch in the shoulder is for morale, the hug that follows feels like it might be something else, but it might not be what he wants it to be.
---
Eliot's got a house in the suburbs.
It just doesn't compute, Alec's brain's gone BSOD, and it's unfortunate, really, because he's backed up against the wall of Eliot's kitchen, has his thumbs threaded through Eliot's belt loops. It's all exactly right, and confusing as hell. Like maybe they needed to talk about this some more- about this distance that's closing in, about the fact that Alec can feel his hands pulling Eliot closer when he hasn't even given them the command.
"You think your brain would stop over-thinking this if I clocked you one?"
It's got to be the emptiest threat Eliot's ever made, but it's the reboot Alec needs. He cocks his head to the side, tugs a little harder on the belt loops.
And if Eliot doesn't kiss him right now, he's gonna kick his ass.
Rating: PG
Fandom/Pairing: Leverage: Alec Hardison/Eliot Spencer
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue, don't take this too seriously.
Summary: comment_fic fill for the prompt, " Hardison knows what Eliot really means when he threatens to punch him on a job."
"Oh, I'm gonna punch somebody," Eliot promises over the comm line, and it's probably not a completely empty threat. But Alec's seen more of Eliot's records than supposedly exist, and he knows one thing already: if Eliot Spencer's gunning for you, you'll never see it coming.
---
It's another job gone sideways, it's those hours before they've figured out how to salvage it. It's four more security guards coming up out of nowhere and an off-the-books security upgrade that's got Eliot pissed this time.
"Dammit, Hardison, when we're done here I'm gonna hit you so hard-" the threat's cut short this time; Alec can't quite make sense of the sound of fighting, but he can see it on the monitor feed; nothing to worry about.
"So my motivation for getting you a clear exit is what, exactly?" Alec rolls his eyes. But he's on it, gets the lock open. Ten minutes later, they're gone.
---
It's not like Eliot's the only one who ever throws threats around. Alec's weapons are different, that's all. It would take him two minutes to alert the fourteen domestic jurisdictions currently interested in Eliot Spencer of his exact location. He could light up the international agencies' radars in five.
He's not going to. He's not an idiot.
---
After the second year, it's insane to think that he'd ever considered it in the first place.
He's had brothers and sisters, growing up, sometimes. Some had stuck around longer than others. It doesn't occur to him to look them up as often as it should. It's hard getting to know someone when you're not expecting them to be around the same time next year.
He knows more about getting to know his siblings than he knows about getting them, about knowing them. But maybe that's changing.
Eliot still grumbles about causing him bodily harm on a weekly basis. As rough as he ever really gets, though, is grabbing Alec alarmingly tightly. For morale now that it's a thing.
All told, it's pretty much one and the same.
---
It's an insane hack. He needs weeks to pull it off, but what he's got is got half an hour, maybe less, and Sophie pacing the room behind him. She's wringing her hands as she guides Parker through her role at the convention center.
"Any time now, Hardison," Nate mutters, already halfway across town. He's got the flash drive in his pocket, empty for now, and threatening to stay that way if Alec can't get a lock on the security program's randomizer. The drive will be exactly what it can't be if Eliot's going to be able to pass it off to the buyers down at the dock in fifty minutes.
There's no way in hell this is going to work, they're screwed, they're beyond screwed, and he says so. He's not even sure if he means to say it out loud, because he's too close to throwing his monitor out the goddamned window to hear the crash.
His phone buzzes; it's a text from Eliot. According to the communications monitor, his earbud's still working, and GPS pins him waiting alone, five minutes from the drop location.
You're smart. You got this. And if you blow it, I'm punching you in the throat the minute I get back.
Alec doesn't have the time to text him back, just reading the text has cost him desperately needed seconds. But grinning doesn't cost anything, and it frees up his hands enough that maybe, just maybe, he'll pull this shit off.
---
"I'm gonna beat you either way, so you might as well fight back," Eliot says, even though he's been going embarrassingly easy on him. "And quit looking at my hands, you're making it too damned easy. Get your arms up like I showed you."
Another few minutes, and Alec's gone down again, on his knees, in a headlock, and all he can see is Parker grinning at him over the back of Nate's couch. All he can feel is Eliot's chest up against his back and the knee pressing almost painfully against the back of his calf.
It only lasts for a second, and it's gone.
---
It's close, this time- too damned close. Eliot actually does punch him, when they're done, but it's understandable, maybe even accidental, seeing as how he's trying to fight everyone off of him, because Eliot Spencer can do his own goddamned stitches and everyone should just get the hell out of his way.
When Alec drops by his place later that night bearing pizza and a six pack and this unease he just hasn't been able to shake, Eliot's not so sluggish that he's unable to glare at him when he opens the door. He does move aside, though, and they sit on the couch to watch the game. Alec pretends not to notice that Eliot's nursing the same beer he'd started with three hours later, and doesn't mention the bottle of heavy-duty painkillers he notices on the counter when he goes to the fridge for his third.
After he comes back with his fifth, Eliot opens one bleary eye at him, glancing down at the bottle in his hand.
"You even think of driving tonight, I'm gonna kick your ass."
Alec just nods, and eventually, nods off.
---
Eliot's leaning against the doorframe, hands in his pockets. Still worn, maybe, from all the shouting, still coming down from the fight that had started halfway through the job and probably hadn't ended, yet.
The others are still probably around, somewhere. Parker was last seen heading for the roof, and Sophie had gone down to the bar after Nate a while ago, but it's quiet up here right now, like the entire building's holding its breath because the next words might really be the ones to actually end them.
But Alec's not good at silence. "So what, you gonna punch my teeth into another area code?"
Eliot quirks a brow, takes a few steps into the room. "That depends on whether or not you're gonna keep packing."
Alec stretches his back, but there's not a whole lot of relief; the past week's still there in his spine, he's carrying that with him, at least. There's not much of him here in Nate's apartment, never really was. Just a few computers, odds and ends he's left over the years, piled up on the kitchen table. Cables, drives, detritus; they're about as useful as he himself is. Fuck, they'd nearly lost Sophie, this time.
"I fucked up."
"So did Nate. So did Sophie." Eliot shrugs. "So did I-"
"Only because I let the comm lines go down," Alec shakes his head. "Parker got herself clear. That ain't on you."
"Ain't on you, either," Eliot says, but he's being charitable. "So quit beating yourself up over it. That's my job."
And it's a little sick, maybe, but Alec feels a little better, afterwards, enough that when Nate eventually crawls up out of his hangover, they agree not to talk about it, that it's past. There's another client, more fucked than they are right now, and they've got a job to do.
---
"I oughta beat your head in," Eliot says, sitting down on the plastic chair beside Alec's hospital bed when it's his turn to keep watch.
"Rickart already beat you to the punch." Alec's heads all cloudy- his voice sounds rough in his own head, and it wasn't all that funny, but Eliot's grinning- he's the only one who's managed it without worry creeping in at the edges, but then again, it's just a concussion. Overnight observation. Not exactly the biggest deal in the world, but Alec will be glad when the nausea passes.
"Yeah, well," Eliot shrugs, trailing off. Nate had filled Alec in already. Rickart's not going to be a problem anymore, not for anyone; Eliot and Parker had made sure of it.
When the nausea wins out, bodily harm is threatened on account of Eliot's boots, which Alec's pretty sure he'd missed. But he helps him back up onto the bed afterwards. Alec's not dizzy enough to actually need the assistance, but Eliot's shoulder fits perfectly under his own; it's something else to focus on.
---
He's always known they were on a timeline, that things would get too hot, that they'd have to scatter eventually. He'd even suspected that Sterling would've been the one closing in on them.
But Alec's not expecting to open his wallet, his first night in Toronto, to find a slip of paper stuffed in between his credit cards. There's nothing on it but a phone number, scrawled in a hand that he'd known for years without realizing it, and the words "call me, or else."
It's hardly the worst threat he's ever faced, but it sticks in his head, there in the background.
It's a month before he's sure their tracks are buried well enough to even think about calling. He's surprised when the number still works, a little by the words that are spoken, but that's nothing compared to the shock of turning away from the baggage claim in Memphis two days later to find Eliot standing three feet behind him, then two.
The punch in the shoulder is for morale, the hug that follows feels like it might be something else, but it might not be what he wants it to be.
---
Eliot's got a house in the suburbs.
It just doesn't compute, Alec's brain's gone BSOD, and it's unfortunate, really, because he's backed up against the wall of Eliot's kitchen, has his thumbs threaded through Eliot's belt loops. It's all exactly right, and confusing as hell. Like maybe they needed to talk about this some more- about this distance that's closing in, about the fact that Alec can feel his hands pulling Eliot closer when he hasn't even given them the command.
"You think your brain would stop over-thinking this if I clocked you one?"
It's got to be the emptiest threat Eliot's ever made, but it's the reboot Alec needs. He cocks his head to the side, tugs a little harder on the belt loops.
And if Eliot doesn't kiss him right now, he's gonna kick his ass.