The Thanksgiving Job
By: snarkcasm
Rating: Painfully G
Category: gen, team!fic
Pairing: none
Disclaimer: I do not own nor am I associated with Leverage. No copyright infringement intended, I promise. I make no money. I have no money. Seriously.
Summary: A cutesy fic about the team's first Thanksgiving as a family...cue the cooing
Author's Note: I figured we needed a Thanksgiving fic. I don't know why. Unbeta-ed, of course.
It was their first Thanksgiving together as a team…and by the way it was shaping out, it was going to be their last too.
Eliot had complete control over the kitchenette. Since no one else knew the difference between a ladle and a slotted spoon, it was the wisest choice. He took the job seriously; he took everything seriously.
Which gave Parker the biggest invitation to do what she did best.
“Where is it?” Eliot did not shriek, no matter what Hardison said or recorded or posted on Youtube.
“Hmm? Where's what?” Sophie looked up from the paper. She really didn’t get why America would devote a whole day to eating, watching football (which was something else that bothered her), and sleeping. However, she was completely devoted to the day after: Black Friday. She already had Hardison checking stores in Boston as well as her manual search through the paper. Tomorrow morning, she would wake everyone up at three AM. And, if someone got between her and her Jimmy Choos, well, she’d sicc Eliot on them.
“The turkey! It was right here,” Eliot waved towards the sink where the frozen bird had been thawing. He didn’t believe in store-bought turkeys, but everyone else vetoed plucking a live turkey once they went to a turkey farm and Parker proclaimed herself ‘Queen of the Gobble’. He took his frustration out in the pie dough. His eyes narrowed in anger and thought. “Parker!”
“What makes you think I took Alfred?” she asked with a surly pout as she parked her butt on the counter.
Eliot shooed her off with a flour-covered hand and a scowl. “Al-Alfred? You named the damned thing?” If someone didn’t calm down soon, he was probably going to have an apoplexy. And, Hardison didn’t have any qualms saying that out loud.
“Now that ain’t right,” he also remarked as the Hitter flipped him the bird.
The door opened and Nathan bustled through, arms full of groceries. He took one look and tried to walk back out.
“Nate!” Sophie could sprint in six-inch heels when motivated. She clung to his unburdened arm like a limpet and dragged him back to the hot mess unfurling in the kitchenette.
“Eliot, put down the knife. Parker, return the turkey. Hardison, w-what are you do with the laptop? We don‘t have any jobs lined up for the holiday.” Eliot lowered the knife with a glower and Parker sighed explosively before opening one of the cupboards and reluctantly giving Alfred back with a sad whimper.
Hardison scratched his head. “Sophie’s got me lookin’ for all the regional sales for--”
“No, no, no.”
“Naaaate, c’mon! It’ll be fun!” Sophie jostled his arm.
He broke away, putting the groceries on the one place that wasn’t cluttered. “Waking up at ungodly hours to go shopping, not even shopping--battling the masses--for some crap on sale isn’t anyone’s idea of fun, least of all mine’s.”
Sophie pouted, leaning over the cupboard and choosing to ignore Eliot’s livid face at the fact his precious kitchen was being violated. “C’mon, Nate. Just think of all the deals! It’ll be just like stealing!”
“Stealing?” Parker perked up.
“No stealing. No shopping,” Nate said firmly. “Hardison, shut off that laptop and set the table.” If Nate had the time to boss everyone else, he could make himself useful. Eliot pointed to the man, to the vegetables, and to the sink with a meaningful eyebrow raise. Nate sighed, unbuttoned his wrist cuffs, rolled up his sleeves, and got to work scrubbing veggies.
Hardison rubbed at his stubble. “I have been looking for new gadgets to take apart and, well, many of them are going on sale tomorrow. And, uhm, seeing as Sophie’s going to eventually convince you, I went ahead and printed out the best hot spots.” He waved the thin sheaf of paper. Parker snatched it out of his hands. “Excuse you.”
“I’m excused?” Parker responded with a nose wrinkle. She scanned through the first page with disinterest. The second page made her squeal. She shoved the booklet under Nate’s nose. “Look, look, isn’t it beautiful?”
“A chainsaw? Give me that.” Eliot took the papers out of Parker’s hands with a muttered ‘crazy’. His mouth fell open as he scanned the paper out of habit.
“Wh-what is it? Eliot, what is it?”
Eliot looked up at Nate with wide eyes. “Global G-2 Cook’s knives…on sale.”
Nate looked upwards with a long-suffering sigh. “I’m not going to win this, am I?”
“Nope!” Sophie looked all too pleased with herself.
---------------
After another bout of annoy-the-hell-out-of-the-chef, Eliot had banished everyone to the living room on pain of torture. No one wanted to test the wild-eyed Hitter with an array of knives at his command. Once the table was set and the turkey on its dubious place of honor, Eliot graciously allowed them back.
Grifter, Hitter, Hacker, Thief, and the Man with the Plan all sat at the table. Silverware clinked against ceramic plates and conversation flourished as the wine and sparkling white grape juice flowed. Parker stubbornly refused to eat the turkey, but she hoarded the cranberry fluff dish. Hardison made a mashed potato volcano which the thief contributed to by shrieking as the gravy lava sluggishly rolled down a potato-ey slope.
Nathan watched and rolled his eyes from his place at the head of the table. Sophie sat to his right, constantly complimenting Eliot on the food so he wouldn’t be offended by how little she took. Eliot, in turn, waved away the compliments and Nate tried not to notice how good he was at brushing his talents to the side.
It was time for desert when Nate rose up from his chair, glass of white grape juice in hand. It grew unnaturally quiet, and Nate cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Now, I know this is supposed to go in the beginning of the meal or whatever, but I’d just like to say: I’m grateful…to be here…y‘know, with you guys,” he finished in a rushed mumble, slumping back into his seat. There continued to be an unnatural quiet until Eliot clapped a hand over Nate’s shoulder with a laugh.
“We’re grateful for you, too, Nate!” Parker chirped through a mouthful of pecan pie as the conversation began again.
Rating: Painfully G
Category: gen, team!fic
Pairing: none
Disclaimer: I do not own nor am I associated with Leverage. No copyright infringement intended, I promise. I make no money. I have no money. Seriously.
Summary: A cutesy fic about the team's first Thanksgiving as a family...cue the cooing
Author's Note: I figured we needed a Thanksgiving fic. I don't know why. Unbeta-ed, of course.
It was their first Thanksgiving together as a team…and by the way it was shaping out, it was going to be their last too.
Eliot had complete control over the kitchenette. Since no one else knew the difference between a ladle and a slotted spoon, it was the wisest choice. He took the job seriously; he took everything seriously.
Which gave Parker the biggest invitation to do what she did best.
“Where is it?” Eliot did not shriek, no matter what Hardison said or recorded or posted on Youtube.
“Hmm? Where's what?” Sophie looked up from the paper. She really didn’t get why America would devote a whole day to eating, watching football (which was something else that bothered her), and sleeping. However, she was completely devoted to the day after: Black Friday. She already had Hardison checking stores in Boston as well as her manual search through the paper. Tomorrow morning, she would wake everyone up at three AM. And, if someone got between her and her Jimmy Choos, well, she’d sicc Eliot on them.
“The turkey! It was right here,” Eliot waved towards the sink where the frozen bird had been thawing. He didn’t believe in store-bought turkeys, but everyone else vetoed plucking a live turkey once they went to a turkey farm and Parker proclaimed herself ‘Queen of the Gobble’. He took his frustration out in the pie dough. His eyes narrowed in anger and thought. “Parker!”
“What makes you think I took Alfred?” she asked with a surly pout as she parked her butt on the counter.
Eliot shooed her off with a flour-covered hand and a scowl. “Al-Alfred? You named the damned thing?” If someone didn’t calm down soon, he was probably going to have an apoplexy. And, Hardison didn’t have any qualms saying that out loud.
“Now that ain’t right,” he also remarked as the Hitter flipped him the bird.
The door opened and Nathan bustled through, arms full of groceries. He took one look and tried to walk back out.
“Nate!” Sophie could sprint in six-inch heels when motivated. She clung to his unburdened arm like a limpet and dragged him back to the hot mess unfurling in the kitchenette.
“Eliot, put down the knife. Parker, return the turkey. Hardison, w-what are you do with the laptop? We don‘t have any jobs lined up for the holiday.” Eliot lowered the knife with a glower and Parker sighed explosively before opening one of the cupboards and reluctantly giving Alfred back with a sad whimper.
Hardison scratched his head. “Sophie’s got me lookin’ for all the regional sales for--”
“No, no, no.”
“Naaaate, c’mon! It’ll be fun!” Sophie jostled his arm.
He broke away, putting the groceries on the one place that wasn’t cluttered. “Waking up at ungodly hours to go shopping, not even shopping--battling the masses--for some crap on sale isn’t anyone’s idea of fun, least of all mine’s.”
Sophie pouted, leaning over the cupboard and choosing to ignore Eliot’s livid face at the fact his precious kitchen was being violated. “C’mon, Nate. Just think of all the deals! It’ll be just like stealing!”
“Stealing?” Parker perked up.
“No stealing. No shopping,” Nate said firmly. “Hardison, shut off that laptop and set the table.” If Nate had the time to boss everyone else, he could make himself useful. Eliot pointed to the man, to the vegetables, and to the sink with a meaningful eyebrow raise. Nate sighed, unbuttoned his wrist cuffs, rolled up his sleeves, and got to work scrubbing veggies.
Hardison rubbed at his stubble. “I have been looking for new gadgets to take apart and, well, many of them are going on sale tomorrow. And, uhm, seeing as Sophie’s going to eventually convince you, I went ahead and printed out the best hot spots.” He waved the thin sheaf of paper. Parker snatched it out of his hands. “Excuse you.”
“I’m excused?” Parker responded with a nose wrinkle. She scanned through the first page with disinterest. The second page made her squeal. She shoved the booklet under Nate’s nose. “Look, look, isn’t it beautiful?”
“A chainsaw? Give me that.” Eliot took the papers out of Parker’s hands with a muttered ‘crazy’. His mouth fell open as he scanned the paper out of habit.
“Wh-what is it? Eliot, what is it?”
Eliot looked up at Nate with wide eyes. “Global G-2 Cook’s knives…on sale.”
Nate looked upwards with a long-suffering sigh. “I’m not going to win this, am I?”
“Nope!” Sophie looked all too pleased with herself.
---------------
After another bout of annoy-the-hell-out-of-the-chef, Eliot had banished everyone to the living room on pain of torture. No one wanted to test the wild-eyed Hitter with an array of knives at his command. Once the table was set and the turkey on its dubious place of honor, Eliot graciously allowed them back.
Grifter, Hitter, Hacker, Thief, and the Man with the Plan all sat at the table. Silverware clinked against ceramic plates and conversation flourished as the wine and sparkling white grape juice flowed. Parker stubbornly refused to eat the turkey, but she hoarded the cranberry fluff dish. Hardison made a mashed potato volcano which the thief contributed to by shrieking as the gravy lava sluggishly rolled down a potato-ey slope.
Nathan watched and rolled his eyes from his place at the head of the table. Sophie sat to his right, constantly complimenting Eliot on the food so he wouldn’t be offended by how little she took. Eliot, in turn, waved away the compliments and Nate tried not to notice how good he was at brushing his talents to the side.
It was time for desert when Nate rose up from his chair, glass of white grape juice in hand. It grew unnaturally quiet, and Nate cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Now, I know this is supposed to go in the beginning of the meal or whatever, but I’d just like to say: I’m grateful…to be here…y‘know, with you guys,” he finished in a rushed mumble, slumping back into his seat. There continued to be an unnatural quiet until Eliot clapped a hand over Nate’s shoulder with a laugh.
“We’re grateful for you, too, Nate!” Parker chirped through a mouthful of pecan pie as the conversation began again.