Maybe You Can Owe Me
Title: Maybe You Can Owe Me
Fandom/Pairing: Leverage: Alec/Eliot
Rating: PG-13 for language
Summary: scout_lover wanted Alec bitching at Eliot while fixing him up. Not exactly to the letter, here, but I'm hoping it's close enough.
And it all started off so well...
Sophie had the Colonel lured away from the base, the two of them were en route to Nate's stolen office. Parker was halfway across town with the stolen files for the three dirty accounts.
Another hour, tops, and they could call it.
Eliot brings the car around back, ready to leave the moment Hardison's done in the server room.
And that's when he hears it. On the comms like usual.
"Uh-oh," Hardison sounds annoyed, not freaked, but it's enough to get Eliot out of the car and stalking towards the loading dock.
"What?"
"Nothing, man. I got this. Someone triggered the security system manually, think Colonel Reynolds is moving up his timetable."
Eliot peers out into the hallway. Watches three soldiers boarding the elevator. The guns they're packing aren't standard issue.
"Hardison, you've got company."
"I know," he says. "I see 'em. Hang on."
Nate comes on comms, right about then, and turns one word into an order. "Eliot?"
"I'm on it," he ducks back around a corner to the sound of Hardison's protests.
"No, man, seriously. I got this. Ain't no way they're getting in here."
"You don't have an exit." Up the stairs, two at a time, trying to listen for a thousand things all at once. Footsteps ahead and behind, a startled catch of breath on the comms.
He hears nothing, really, until he reaches the seventh floor. On the other side of the building, Hardison's backed into a corner, trying to finish his job. Eliot's objective is closer to hand. Just on the other side of the door.
"Eliot," Hardison's voice is sharp, pissed off and sudden, and it wasn't that Eliot hadn't noticed he'd been picked up on at least three security cameras, it just wasn't relevant. "No. Get the hell out of here. Again. I have an exit."
On the other side of the door, seven, no, eight soldiers, all of whom are surely in the Colonel's pocket, move out. Onwards and away, across the building towards Hardison.
Warily, in case they'd posted someone to guard the door, he steps out of the stairwell. It's clear, but there's no time for relief, not yet. He runs.
---
He's dimly aware that Hardison's speaking, but he can't listen right now. The soldiers are up ahead, hesitating outside the secure hallway that leads to the server room. Ducking around a desk and keeping low, he waits for them to open it.
"Eliot, I'm serious, man, don't do what I think you're doing, the door-"
The soldiers are moving through, and it's easy enough, now, to catch up, to slide in behind the last soldier as the security door slides shut behind him.
He's already swinging when the soldier turns, and it's not until he's moving on to the second that Hardison's words sink in.
"It's a two way lock. Bottleneck, man."
Shit.
Up ahead is another security door, but the soldiers haven't reached it yet. They haven't yet gotten through to Hardison, and Eliot's objective is clear. He's got to keep it that way.
The fact that they're all locked in will make the first part of it easier. And getting out is a problem that's eight men down the line.
Already, numbers three and four are coming at him, and three has his knife out.
---
Alec's furious, trying to hack the door open, because he wasn't supposed to have to. That had been the beauty of the entire fucking plan, a modern day digital panic room, with walls solid enough to secure enough data to run three different wars, and a hard-wired system to back it up.
The system ran independently from the networked computers. Its wires, literally, ran through isolated tunnels to reach the terminals on the other floors, with ladders built in for maintenance, and which were forgotten by everyone but the two hardware admins who wouldn't even be called in, this late, unless the entire system failed.
Seriously? I told all of you about the damned tunnels. Parker was hanging upside down in one of them not thirty minutes ago..
But no. Eliot has to be a hotheaded idiot and come barreling in while Alec sits on his ass trying to get a fucking door opened, all because it's what he does, he's the freakin' hero and he's going to get himself killed one of these days.
But not today, Alec's already decided, typing faster, because he can hear every punch, every kick from here, and it looks like it's his turn to play the cavalry.
---
Problem number eight probably would've killed him if he hadn't accidentally tripped over the unconscious body of number six. Eliot's distracted, watching him fall and trying to catch his breath. He doesn't hear number three creeping back up from the floor behind him.
It's too late, when he reacts.
The blow to the back sends him sprawling up against the wall, and number three's got his arm pressed up against the back of his throat, he's trying to grab the one arm that's doing Eliot any good at all, and suddenly, the weight's gone, fast.
Eliot spins, arm coiling back to strike, and he knows his grin is bloody, now, but it's just Hardison, standing there over number three, wild eyed and pissed off.
"Come on," he's saying, but it takes a few seconds for the fight to wear off. his body wants to ache, wants to hurt, but they're not gone, yet. There'll be time for that later.
---
Eliot's confused when Alec drags him back into the server room, ushers him back behind the machines and starts leading him down the access tunnel.
They're about three floors down when Eliot's voice comes from above.
"Oh. This was the out you were talking about, huh?"
The moment they're out of here and safe, Alec thinks he might just strangle him. It'll probably be his best chance, if Eliot's still moving as slow as he is right now.
When they crawl out onto the first floor, check the windows, there's heat on the car Eliot brought round the back. It's easier, actually, to hotwire the Jeep out front.
---
"Okay, I'm coming into the parking lot," Parker's saying, and out by the road, they can see a car moving towards them, way too fast. Alec runs around the other side, helps Eliot out of the car and decides that he's just being stubborn, not moving of his own volition, barely carrying his own weight. He's just being a pouting five year old that doesn't want to go to bed.
Because he's not just holding onto awareness by the skin of his teeth, he's not hurt that badly.
Parker leaves the keys in the car and opens the passenger side so he can get Eliot in. From the back, she's grabbing a gas can and gesturing at the jeep.
"Did he bleed on it?"
"See you at the hospital," is all has time to say as he gets in, because right now? they've got to fucking go.
---
It's hurting worse, now. His arm is cold and burning and wet, and out of the corner of his eye, as Hardison's cutting his way into traffic, he sees fire jumping up out of nowhere. It seems like it's connected, somehow.
Eliot closes his eyes, hard, like the pressure of squeezing them shut will be enough to keep him conscious.
---
Once the ER doctors drag Eliot away, thankfully mostly under his own speed, Alec's relieved that he's got to come up with a really good cover, and fast, right the fuck now.
Otherwise he'd just be sitting here, worrying. Staring at the clock and watching the minutes pass.
"Nate, man? He mutters, once the nurses pass by. "Gonna need some help, here."
---
By the time Sophie shows up to back up their cover, they're moving Eliot over into recovery. It's clear Eliot doesn't want to go, or that he wants to go a hell of a lot farther, but he's not fighting it, really.
He looks too tired.
---
"Sophie's clearing up your release right now. We'll get you out of here in a bit," is all Hardison says when he comes in, and it's clear that he's not saying a hundred different things right now. Eliot can read the crossing of his arms plain as day, even with the painkillers.
He hates drugs. He hates being awake, being here, sitting on the edge of the bed and not knowing what to do with himself. He's not too fond of arms, either right now. Not Hardison's, and not his own.
There are bandages over the cuts, but he can still feel them, dimly. His left arm is worse. The gash running up the underside throbs, and if it hadn't been for the watch he'd been wearing, he probably would've bled out.
He doesn't really want to think about it right now, and it's just as well, because Hardison can only hold out for so long.
"That was stupid, man."
Eliot doesn't respond. He knows. He'd had it figured out even before the stitches. Seventeen of them, all in a row. Three more, sporadically scattered, in the region of his broken finger, underneath the splint.
"I mean, really, really stupid." Eliot takes a breath, but just winds out letting it out again, because Hardison's getting on a roll, here.
"You knew the plan. We talked about it, and yeah, I know I'm not Rambo and shit, but I'm not an idiot. And I don't need you getting yourself killed just because you know think I can't handle my shit."
Hardison's pacing now, his face still storming and angry, and Eliot kind of wishes he'd make a joke or something. Get over it. Move on, because he doesn't like Hardison like this, freaked out and angry.
He's stopping to breathe now, to launch into round two, when the door opens. A nurse comes in with Eliot's jacket, grinning apologetically when it's just as bloody as it was when they took it off of him.
"Your supervisor has finished the paperwork, you can go whenever you like. Warning, though. She seems pretty pissed off."
Eliot takes the jacket, but there's a twinge, and his torso just isn't up for putting it on. He sets it in his lap and pretends he's not startled when the nurse's hand is suddenly a few inches from his face.
"And here's your watch," she says, unwrapping her fingers from the broken thing. The glass is shattered, the inner workings cracked. There's a gouge running along the metal wristband that could've been Eliot's skin.
He doesn't want it, it was only part of his costume, anyway, but after a moment, Hardison reaches out for it. He's examining it, and from the look on his face, the way his eyes dart to Eliot's arm, it's clear he's coming to the right conclusions.
The nurse hands him his post-care information and insists on reading through it as if this was Eliot's first time, as if she hadn't just finished helping the doctor stitch across at least two old scars. When she's done, Eliot glances up to find that Hardison's got the watch in a tight-fisted grip, and he's staring at the floor, looking a lot less like Hardison, and a lot more like Alec, now.
It'll be gone again, in a minute or so, and already, he's starting to shake it off, but he still comes to sit down next to him on the bed.
---
This watch was the only thing that kept the knife from killing him.
It shouldn't have felt so small and insubstantial in his hand. So flimsy.
Eliot, too. Alec wouldn't mind if he looked a bit less injured. If he hadn't gotten hurt. It was making it a little hard to hold onto the anger. He sat down on the bed, next to him, more to have an excuse not to look at his face than anything.
It took a moment, but eventually, Eliot spoke, talking to the floor. "Look, man, I know. You told us all about the tunnel when we were planning, but that was before Nate changed the game yesterday. You went in through the doors, thought you were coming out through them, and I forgot everything else, okay?"
Alec nodded, he'd already figured as much. And that wasn't the fucking point.
"You do realize that I meant it when I said I was fine, right?"
"It's not that-"
"And you're always telling me not to complain, yeah?"
Eliot nearly laughed, then, and Alec hadn't realized how much tension he'd been carrying in his shoulders until the sound hit him. "Yeah."
"And it never works, does it? Ain't me, is all. Which probably means that if I'm telling you that I'm fine, that the bad guys can't get me, I don't need you to come in and rescue me."
Eliot nods, but it's vague, and Alec doubts the information will stick.
"All the same, though," Alec starts, because it seems like they've already made up but sometimes it pays to be sure, "thanks for tryin', alright? I get why you did that, and it's cool. Not sayin' I owe you my life, or anything-"
"You still owe me for that time with the car bomb," Eliot finishes, grinning now, Alec can see it out of the corner of his eye.
"Yeah," Alec answers, because Eliot's got it and this thing they've got, sometimes, works fine when they don't actually talk about it too directly, especially when Sophie's waiting outside and they're going to have to have their game faces on, here, in a minute.
Or when the memory of tripping over bodies to get to Eliot's is a little too fresh in his head.
Still, though. "So what do you say we get home, get cleaned up, and I'll start working on paying down the tab, huh?"
Eliot yawns, rises to his feet a little slowly. "Start that tomorrow, we got time," he says, grinning a little and not quite looking at Alec, shy like he gets sometimes. "Not looking for you to be paid up just yet."
---
Eliot's got his coat, and he's nodding for the door, but Alec's already standing, crossing over to him before he can reach it.
"What, you've got this thing about opening doors, now?" he mutters, when Alec comes close, but instead of smirking, moving past, he's running his hand carefully along Eliot's bandaged arm.
Eliot feels it a little more than usual when Alec's fingers brush his jaw, but it's probably just the bruises, and the kiss is strange enough to distract him. They're still close enough to being on the job that it wasn't even on his radar, even with all of this.
When Alec pulls away, he's grinning, a little bit more Hardison coming through. "Soon as I'm caught up, you're gonna have to start paying me back for all the worrying you make me do, you realize that, right?"
The door's opening, and he's already stepping through before Eliot can respond, but then Sophie's there to take them home, and Hardison's putting his earpiece back in, and when Eliot does likewise, he can hear Nate yelling at Parker about setting things on fire.
At this rate, it'll be a while before either of them are caught up.
Fandom/Pairing: Leverage: Alec/Eliot
Rating: PG-13 for language
Summary: scout_lover wanted Alec bitching at Eliot while fixing him up. Not exactly to the letter, here, but I'm hoping it's close enough.
And it all started off so well...
Sophie had the Colonel lured away from the base, the two of them were en route to Nate's stolen office. Parker was halfway across town with the stolen files for the three dirty accounts.
Another hour, tops, and they could call it.
Eliot brings the car around back, ready to leave the moment Hardison's done in the server room.
And that's when he hears it. On the comms like usual.
"Uh-oh," Hardison sounds annoyed, not freaked, but it's enough to get Eliot out of the car and stalking towards the loading dock.
"What?"
"Nothing, man. I got this. Someone triggered the security system manually, think Colonel Reynolds is moving up his timetable."
Eliot peers out into the hallway. Watches three soldiers boarding the elevator. The guns they're packing aren't standard issue.
"Hardison, you've got company."
"I know," he says. "I see 'em. Hang on."
Nate comes on comms, right about then, and turns one word into an order. "Eliot?"
"I'm on it," he ducks back around a corner to the sound of Hardison's protests.
"No, man, seriously. I got this. Ain't no way they're getting in here."
"You don't have an exit." Up the stairs, two at a time, trying to listen for a thousand things all at once. Footsteps ahead and behind, a startled catch of breath on the comms.
He hears nothing, really, until he reaches the seventh floor. On the other side of the building, Hardison's backed into a corner, trying to finish his job. Eliot's objective is closer to hand. Just on the other side of the door.
"Eliot," Hardison's voice is sharp, pissed off and sudden, and it wasn't that Eliot hadn't noticed he'd been picked up on at least three security cameras, it just wasn't relevant. "No. Get the hell out of here. Again. I have an exit."
On the other side of the door, seven, no, eight soldiers, all of whom are surely in the Colonel's pocket, move out. Onwards and away, across the building towards Hardison.
Warily, in case they'd posted someone to guard the door, he steps out of the stairwell. It's clear, but there's no time for relief, not yet. He runs.
---
He's dimly aware that Hardison's speaking, but he can't listen right now. The soldiers are up ahead, hesitating outside the secure hallway that leads to the server room. Ducking around a desk and keeping low, he waits for them to open it.
"Eliot, I'm serious, man, don't do what I think you're doing, the door-"
The soldiers are moving through, and it's easy enough, now, to catch up, to slide in behind the last soldier as the security door slides shut behind him.
He's already swinging when the soldier turns, and it's not until he's moving on to the second that Hardison's words sink in.
"It's a two way lock. Bottleneck, man."
Shit.
Up ahead is another security door, but the soldiers haven't reached it yet. They haven't yet gotten through to Hardison, and Eliot's objective is clear. He's got to keep it that way.
The fact that they're all locked in will make the first part of it easier. And getting out is a problem that's eight men down the line.
Already, numbers three and four are coming at him, and three has his knife out.
---
Alec's furious, trying to hack the door open, because he wasn't supposed to have to. That had been the beauty of the entire fucking plan, a modern day digital panic room, with walls solid enough to secure enough data to run three different wars, and a hard-wired system to back it up.
The system ran independently from the networked computers. Its wires, literally, ran through isolated tunnels to reach the terminals on the other floors, with ladders built in for maintenance, and which were forgotten by everyone but the two hardware admins who wouldn't even be called in, this late, unless the entire system failed.
Seriously? I told all of you about the damned tunnels. Parker was hanging upside down in one of them not thirty minutes ago..
But no. Eliot has to be a hotheaded idiot and come barreling in while Alec sits on his ass trying to get a fucking door opened, all because it's what he does, he's the freakin' hero and he's going to get himself killed one of these days.
But not today, Alec's already decided, typing faster, because he can hear every punch, every kick from here, and it looks like it's his turn to play the cavalry.
---
Problem number eight probably would've killed him if he hadn't accidentally tripped over the unconscious body of number six. Eliot's distracted, watching him fall and trying to catch his breath. He doesn't hear number three creeping back up from the floor behind him.
It's too late, when he reacts.
The blow to the back sends him sprawling up against the wall, and number three's got his arm pressed up against the back of his throat, he's trying to grab the one arm that's doing Eliot any good at all, and suddenly, the weight's gone, fast.
Eliot spins, arm coiling back to strike, and he knows his grin is bloody, now, but it's just Hardison, standing there over number three, wild eyed and pissed off.
"Come on," he's saying, but it takes a few seconds for the fight to wear off. his body wants to ache, wants to hurt, but they're not gone, yet. There'll be time for that later.
---
Eliot's confused when Alec drags him back into the server room, ushers him back behind the machines and starts leading him down the access tunnel.
They're about three floors down when Eliot's voice comes from above.
"Oh. This was the out you were talking about, huh?"
The moment they're out of here and safe, Alec thinks he might just strangle him. It'll probably be his best chance, if Eliot's still moving as slow as he is right now.
When they crawl out onto the first floor, check the windows, there's heat on the car Eliot brought round the back. It's easier, actually, to hotwire the Jeep out front.
---
"Okay, I'm coming into the parking lot," Parker's saying, and out by the road, they can see a car moving towards them, way too fast. Alec runs around the other side, helps Eliot out of the car and decides that he's just being stubborn, not moving of his own volition, barely carrying his own weight. He's just being a pouting five year old that doesn't want to go to bed.
Because he's not just holding onto awareness by the skin of his teeth, he's not hurt that badly.
Parker leaves the keys in the car and opens the passenger side so he can get Eliot in. From the back, she's grabbing a gas can and gesturing at the jeep.
"Did he bleed on it?"
"See you at the hospital," is all has time to say as he gets in, because right now? they've got to fucking go.
---
It's hurting worse, now. His arm is cold and burning and wet, and out of the corner of his eye, as Hardison's cutting his way into traffic, he sees fire jumping up out of nowhere. It seems like it's connected, somehow.
Eliot closes his eyes, hard, like the pressure of squeezing them shut will be enough to keep him conscious.
---
Once the ER doctors drag Eliot away, thankfully mostly under his own speed, Alec's relieved that he's got to come up with a really good cover, and fast, right the fuck now.
Otherwise he'd just be sitting here, worrying. Staring at the clock and watching the minutes pass.
"Nate, man? He mutters, once the nurses pass by. "Gonna need some help, here."
---
By the time Sophie shows up to back up their cover, they're moving Eliot over into recovery. It's clear Eliot doesn't want to go, or that he wants to go a hell of a lot farther, but he's not fighting it, really.
He looks too tired.
---
"Sophie's clearing up your release right now. We'll get you out of here in a bit," is all Hardison says when he comes in, and it's clear that he's not saying a hundred different things right now. Eliot can read the crossing of his arms plain as day, even with the painkillers.
He hates drugs. He hates being awake, being here, sitting on the edge of the bed and not knowing what to do with himself. He's not too fond of arms, either right now. Not Hardison's, and not his own.
There are bandages over the cuts, but he can still feel them, dimly. His left arm is worse. The gash running up the underside throbs, and if it hadn't been for the watch he'd been wearing, he probably would've bled out.
He doesn't really want to think about it right now, and it's just as well, because Hardison can only hold out for so long.
"That was stupid, man."
Eliot doesn't respond. He knows. He'd had it figured out even before the stitches. Seventeen of them, all in a row. Three more, sporadically scattered, in the region of his broken finger, underneath the splint.
"I mean, really, really stupid." Eliot takes a breath, but just winds out letting it out again, because Hardison's getting on a roll, here.
"You knew the plan. We talked about it, and yeah, I know I'm not Rambo and shit, but I'm not an idiot. And I don't need you getting yourself killed just because you know think I can't handle my shit."
Hardison's pacing now, his face still storming and angry, and Eliot kind of wishes he'd make a joke or something. Get over it. Move on, because he doesn't like Hardison like this, freaked out and angry.
He's stopping to breathe now, to launch into round two, when the door opens. A nurse comes in with Eliot's jacket, grinning apologetically when it's just as bloody as it was when they took it off of him.
"Your supervisor has finished the paperwork, you can go whenever you like. Warning, though. She seems pretty pissed off."
Eliot takes the jacket, but there's a twinge, and his torso just isn't up for putting it on. He sets it in his lap and pretends he's not startled when the nurse's hand is suddenly a few inches from his face.
"And here's your watch," she says, unwrapping her fingers from the broken thing. The glass is shattered, the inner workings cracked. There's a gouge running along the metal wristband that could've been Eliot's skin.
He doesn't want it, it was only part of his costume, anyway, but after a moment, Hardison reaches out for it. He's examining it, and from the look on his face, the way his eyes dart to Eliot's arm, it's clear he's coming to the right conclusions.
The nurse hands him his post-care information and insists on reading through it as if this was Eliot's first time, as if she hadn't just finished helping the doctor stitch across at least two old scars. When she's done, Eliot glances up to find that Hardison's got the watch in a tight-fisted grip, and he's staring at the floor, looking a lot less like Hardison, and a lot more like Alec, now.
It'll be gone again, in a minute or so, and already, he's starting to shake it off, but he still comes to sit down next to him on the bed.
---
This watch was the only thing that kept the knife from killing him.
It shouldn't have felt so small and insubstantial in his hand. So flimsy.
Eliot, too. Alec wouldn't mind if he looked a bit less injured. If he hadn't gotten hurt. It was making it a little hard to hold onto the anger. He sat down on the bed, next to him, more to have an excuse not to look at his face than anything.
It took a moment, but eventually, Eliot spoke, talking to the floor. "Look, man, I know. You told us all about the tunnel when we were planning, but that was before Nate changed the game yesterday. You went in through the doors, thought you were coming out through them, and I forgot everything else, okay?"
Alec nodded, he'd already figured as much. And that wasn't the fucking point.
"You do realize that I meant it when I said I was fine, right?"
"It's not that-"
"And you're always telling me not to complain, yeah?"
Eliot nearly laughed, then, and Alec hadn't realized how much tension he'd been carrying in his shoulders until the sound hit him. "Yeah."
"And it never works, does it? Ain't me, is all. Which probably means that if I'm telling you that I'm fine, that the bad guys can't get me, I don't need you to come in and rescue me."
Eliot nods, but it's vague, and Alec doubts the information will stick.
"All the same, though," Alec starts, because it seems like they've already made up but sometimes it pays to be sure, "thanks for tryin', alright? I get why you did that, and it's cool. Not sayin' I owe you my life, or anything-"
"You still owe me for that time with the car bomb," Eliot finishes, grinning now, Alec can see it out of the corner of his eye.
"Yeah," Alec answers, because Eliot's got it and this thing they've got, sometimes, works fine when they don't actually talk about it too directly, especially when Sophie's waiting outside and they're going to have to have their game faces on, here, in a minute.
Or when the memory of tripping over bodies to get to Eliot's is a little too fresh in his head.
Still, though. "So what do you say we get home, get cleaned up, and I'll start working on paying down the tab, huh?"
Eliot yawns, rises to his feet a little slowly. "Start that tomorrow, we got time," he says, grinning a little and not quite looking at Alec, shy like he gets sometimes. "Not looking for you to be paid up just yet."
---
Eliot's got his coat, and he's nodding for the door, but Alec's already standing, crossing over to him before he can reach it.
"What, you've got this thing about opening doors, now?" he mutters, when Alec comes close, but instead of smirking, moving past, he's running his hand carefully along Eliot's bandaged arm.
Eliot feels it a little more than usual when Alec's fingers brush his jaw, but it's probably just the bruises, and the kiss is strange enough to distract him. They're still close enough to being on the job that it wasn't even on his radar, even with all of this.
When Alec pulls away, he's grinning, a little bit more Hardison coming through. "Soon as I'm caught up, you're gonna have to start paying me back for all the worrying you make me do, you realize that, right?"
The door's opening, and he's already stepping through before Eliot can respond, but then Sophie's there to take them home, and Hardison's putting his earpiece back in, and when Eliot does likewise, he can hear Nate yelling at Parker about setting things on fire.
At this rate, it'll be a while before either of them are caught up.