Fic: Shelter (Leverage, Nate and Eliot-focused gen, PG-13)
Title: Shelter
Author: sheryden
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1518
Category: Gen with a focus on Nate and Eliot.
Spoilers: I vaguely mention something said in "The Scheherazade Job," but it's minor. But there are definitely spoilers from "The Maltese Falcon Job."
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: Not mine. If it was, Eliot would be shirtless in half the episodes.
Summary: Eliot tries to put a drunken Nate to bed after a bad night.
Notes: This was written for hc_bingo for the prompt "alcoholism."
Nate opened his eyes and blinked several times, trying to will them to focus in on his surroundings. Through the alcohol-induced fog, he could feel strong hands on him, depositing him on the bed with a thud and tugging at the buttons of his shirt. He didn’t need to be able to see to know it was Eliot. No one else would bother at this point.
“You should at least buy me dinner first,” Nate murmured.
Eliot undid the last button and pulled off Nate’s shirt. “I’d make you dinner if I didn’t think you’d throw it right back up.”
“I don’t throw up,” Nate said, slightly insulted. “Well, I haven’t in a while anyway.”
Eliot let out a breath. “Looks like you poured whiskey all over yourself. And here I thought you were a functioning alcoholic.”
“It’s been a bad night.”
Eliot grumbled something under his breath, and then he disappeared into the hall. A few seconds later, he returned with a wet washcloth. He walked over to Nate and putting a knee on the bed to balance himself, began to wash off Nate’s chest and neck.
“How the hell did you get booze on your neck?”
“It takes skill,” Nate said.
Eliot ignored him and continued to glide the cloth over Nate’s exposed skin. It felt so good to be touched with such… tenderness. As hard and weathered as Eliot was, he could be nurturing and gentle when he wanted. Nate supposed that a part of Eliot needed to be tender to balance all the pain he’d seen and even caused over the years.
“I think you’re my enabler,” Nate said with a smirk. “You make me a more comfortable and successful alcoholic by helping me.”
Eliot stopped what he was doing and gazed at Nate for a moment, looking a little taken aback. He licked his lips and then started washing Nate’s face. “Or maybe I’m just not willing to let you push me away,” he said. “I know that’s what you’re doing.”
“You think?”
“I think Sophie’s right. You get off on pissing everyone off and then watching them walk out on you.”
Nate pulled away from Eliot’s touch. “You talk to Sophie about me, do you?”
Eliot folded up the washcloth. “I think you’re trying to confirm your worst fears,” he said, as he started toward the door.
“And what are those?” Nate asked.
“That you’ll wind up alone. And when you do finally drive everyone out of your life, you can feel vindicated that your fucked up view of the world was right all along.”
Nate felt a prickle of heat begin to creep onto his cheeks. He let himself go limp on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. He could fee Eliot watching him, but he wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of responding.
After a few moments, Eliot said, “I’ll be right back.”
Nate thought about walking over and slamming the door shut and locking it so Eliot couldn’t get back in. But getting up wasn’t worth the effort, and Eliot would probably knock the door down anyway.
Groaning, he hoisted himself into a semi-seated position and started tugging off his pants. He was making little progress, so he wrenched his body all the way up until he was sitting on the edge of the bed. The sudden movement caused the room to whirl, and Nate had to grip the bedcovers with one hand to keep from tumbling onto the floor.
“Fuck it,” Nate muttered. His was too tired for this shit. The damn pants to could stay on. He placed on hand on either side of him to brace his body, and then he just sat there, staring at the floor.
A couple of minutes later, Eliot returned with a wastebasket. “In case you do decide to throw up,” he said.
“Mmm,” Nate said.
Letting out a breath and muttering something Nate couldn’t hear, Eliot sat the basket down and walked over to the bed. He reached down and started to pull Nate’s pants the rest of the way off. Nate tried to slap his hands away, but Eliot shot him a look and soon, the pants were being folded and flung over a chair.
“Lie down,” Eliot said.
As tempting as it was to try and stay upright just to spite Eliot, Nate did as he was told. His body was heavy and sore and tense, and he wanted nothing more than to burrow into his pillows and blankets and lapse into unconsciousness.
He felt the mattress dip as Eliot sat down beside him. “So,” Eliot said. “You wanna talk?”
“I’m lying here in my boxers,” Nate grumbled. “I want you to get the hell out and let me sleep.” He laid his hands across his now-closed eyes in a futile attempt to ward off the monster headache that was threatening to beat down the inside of his skull.
“Here, let me,” Eliot said. He inched his body forward and started to knead his thumbs into Nate’s temples. “If you don’t want to talk, you can at least listen.”
Eliot’s fingers felt amazing as they massaged away the tension. Nate decided that Eliot could talk all he wanted, as long as he kept the headache away. “So talk,” he murmured.
“Here’s the thing,” Eliot said after a few seconds. “I get that you’re trying to protect yourself. I get that. And I understand it.” He moved his hands down to Nate’s neck and shoulders and started working the kinks out of stiff muscles. “But we’re not gonna hurt you. You said we were your family, and we are. So let us in.”
Nate felt himself tense up, even as Eliot’s kneaded his muscles. He thought back to that day on the docks, the day he gave himself up to protect his team-his family. He had told Eliot and the others what they meant to him that day, and he had meant it. Every word. But there was still a part of him that just couldn’t surrender to the warmth and security of their kinship. He’d had that warmth once upon a time, and he’d lost it. Opening himself up to the team meant leaving himself defenseless. Leaving himself vulnerable to the kind of pain he couldn’t fathom feeling again.
And that scared the shit out of him.
“You know what I think?” Nate said suddenly, pushing Eliot’s hands away. “I don’t think you’re here for me.” He propped himself up on his elbows and continued talking. “No, you’re here for yourself. I think you’ve done so many fucked up things over the years that become totally scarred inside. And I think that taking care of other people is your warped way of repairing the damage to your psyche. So spare me the warm and fuzzy family talk.”
Silently, Eliot climbed off the bed, folded his arms across his chest, and stood by Nate’s bed, shaking his head. Nate had expected rage or at least a gruff comment, but none came. And Eliot’s lack of response rattled him more than he wanted to admit. Maybe he’d pushed too hard this time. He pinched the bridge of his nose. The damn headache was coming back.
Neither of them moved for several moments, and silence settled over the room. Finally, Eliot turned and started to head out the door.
A wave of panic hit Nate as he watched Eliot walk away. He had pushed too hard, and now regret was bearing down on him. “Eliot,” he said, his voice breaking. “Don’t go. I don’t wanna be alone.”
Eliot stopped in the doorway and stared at Nate with an unreadable expression on his face. After a moment, he crossed the room and sat on the bed. “I was just going into the other room to get you something for the headache,” he said gently.
Nate swallowed hard and cleared his throat. He felt himself start to tremble, as he tried to stop the tears that were already starting to spill down his cheeks.
It was a rare thing for Nate to break down in any meaningful way, and at first, Eliot seemed little unsure what to do. He reached a hand forward and squeezed Nate’s shoulder. “C’mere,” he said.
Shaking and half-sobbing, Nate collapsed into Eliot’s arms. Eliot tightened his grip and moved his hand in a circle between Nate’s shoulder blades. Nate let himself fall apart in a way he’d needed to for a long time, and Eliot held him tightly, soothing him and sheltering him.
After a while, Nate felt himself start to relax and grow heavy. He extracted himself from Eliot’s arms and savagely rubbed his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said.
Eliot grabbed a tissue from the nightstand and handed it to Nate. “For telling me I’m fucked up or for letting your guard down?”
“For hurting you,” he said.
Eliot shook his head. “I can take the punishment, remember?”
“You shouldn’t have to,” Nate said.
Eliot eased Nate’s head back onto his pillow and pulled the covers over his prone body. “Neither should you.”
Author: sheryden
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1518
Category: Gen with a focus on Nate and Eliot.
Spoilers: I vaguely mention something said in "The Scheherazade Job," but it's minor. But there are definitely spoilers from "The Maltese Falcon Job."
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: Not mine. If it was, Eliot would be shirtless in half the episodes.
Summary: Eliot tries to put a drunken Nate to bed after a bad night.
Notes: This was written for hc_bingo for the prompt "alcoholism."
Nate opened his eyes and blinked several times, trying to will them to focus in on his surroundings. Through the alcohol-induced fog, he could feel strong hands on him, depositing him on the bed with a thud and tugging at the buttons of his shirt. He didn’t need to be able to see to know it was Eliot. No one else would bother at this point.
“You should at least buy me dinner first,” Nate murmured.
Eliot undid the last button and pulled off Nate’s shirt. “I’d make you dinner if I didn’t think you’d throw it right back up.”
“I don’t throw up,” Nate said, slightly insulted. “Well, I haven’t in a while anyway.”
Eliot let out a breath. “Looks like you poured whiskey all over yourself. And here I thought you were a functioning alcoholic.”
“It’s been a bad night.”
Eliot grumbled something under his breath, and then he disappeared into the hall. A few seconds later, he returned with a wet washcloth. He walked over to Nate and putting a knee on the bed to balance himself, began to wash off Nate’s chest and neck.
“How the hell did you get booze on your neck?”
“It takes skill,” Nate said.
Eliot ignored him and continued to glide the cloth over Nate’s exposed skin. It felt so good to be touched with such… tenderness. As hard and weathered as Eliot was, he could be nurturing and gentle when he wanted. Nate supposed that a part of Eliot needed to be tender to balance all the pain he’d seen and even caused over the years.
“I think you’re my enabler,” Nate said with a smirk. “You make me a more comfortable and successful alcoholic by helping me.”
Eliot stopped what he was doing and gazed at Nate for a moment, looking a little taken aback. He licked his lips and then started washing Nate’s face. “Or maybe I’m just not willing to let you push me away,” he said. “I know that’s what you’re doing.”
“You think?”
“I think Sophie’s right. You get off on pissing everyone off and then watching them walk out on you.”
Nate pulled away from Eliot’s touch. “You talk to Sophie about me, do you?”
Eliot folded up the washcloth. “I think you’re trying to confirm your worst fears,” he said, as he started toward the door.
“And what are those?” Nate asked.
“That you’ll wind up alone. And when you do finally drive everyone out of your life, you can feel vindicated that your fucked up view of the world was right all along.”
Nate felt a prickle of heat begin to creep onto his cheeks. He let himself go limp on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. He could fee Eliot watching him, but he wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of responding.
After a few moments, Eliot said, “I’ll be right back.”
Nate thought about walking over and slamming the door shut and locking it so Eliot couldn’t get back in. But getting up wasn’t worth the effort, and Eliot would probably knock the door down anyway.
Groaning, he hoisted himself into a semi-seated position and started tugging off his pants. He was making little progress, so he wrenched his body all the way up until he was sitting on the edge of the bed. The sudden movement caused the room to whirl, and Nate had to grip the bedcovers with one hand to keep from tumbling onto the floor.
“Fuck it,” Nate muttered. His was too tired for this shit. The damn pants to could stay on. He placed on hand on either side of him to brace his body, and then he just sat there, staring at the floor.
A couple of minutes later, Eliot returned with a wastebasket. “In case you do decide to throw up,” he said.
“Mmm,” Nate said.
Letting out a breath and muttering something Nate couldn’t hear, Eliot sat the basket down and walked over to the bed. He reached down and started to pull Nate’s pants the rest of the way off. Nate tried to slap his hands away, but Eliot shot him a look and soon, the pants were being folded and flung over a chair.
“Lie down,” Eliot said.
As tempting as it was to try and stay upright just to spite Eliot, Nate did as he was told. His body was heavy and sore and tense, and he wanted nothing more than to burrow into his pillows and blankets and lapse into unconsciousness.
He felt the mattress dip as Eliot sat down beside him. “So,” Eliot said. “You wanna talk?”
“I’m lying here in my boxers,” Nate grumbled. “I want you to get the hell out and let me sleep.” He laid his hands across his now-closed eyes in a futile attempt to ward off the monster headache that was threatening to beat down the inside of his skull.
“Here, let me,” Eliot said. He inched his body forward and started to knead his thumbs into Nate’s temples. “If you don’t want to talk, you can at least listen.”
Eliot’s fingers felt amazing as they massaged away the tension. Nate decided that Eliot could talk all he wanted, as long as he kept the headache away. “So talk,” he murmured.
“Here’s the thing,” Eliot said after a few seconds. “I get that you’re trying to protect yourself. I get that. And I understand it.” He moved his hands down to Nate’s neck and shoulders and started working the kinks out of stiff muscles. “But we’re not gonna hurt you. You said we were your family, and we are. So let us in.”
Nate felt himself tense up, even as Eliot’s kneaded his muscles. He thought back to that day on the docks, the day he gave himself up to protect his team-his family. He had told Eliot and the others what they meant to him that day, and he had meant it. Every word. But there was still a part of him that just couldn’t surrender to the warmth and security of their kinship. He’d had that warmth once upon a time, and he’d lost it. Opening himself up to the team meant leaving himself defenseless. Leaving himself vulnerable to the kind of pain he couldn’t fathom feeling again.
And that scared the shit out of him.
“You know what I think?” Nate said suddenly, pushing Eliot’s hands away. “I don’t think you’re here for me.” He propped himself up on his elbows and continued talking. “No, you’re here for yourself. I think you’ve done so many fucked up things over the years that become totally scarred inside. And I think that taking care of other people is your warped way of repairing the damage to your psyche. So spare me the warm and fuzzy family talk.”
Silently, Eliot climbed off the bed, folded his arms across his chest, and stood by Nate’s bed, shaking his head. Nate had expected rage or at least a gruff comment, but none came. And Eliot’s lack of response rattled him more than he wanted to admit. Maybe he’d pushed too hard this time. He pinched the bridge of his nose. The damn headache was coming back.
Neither of them moved for several moments, and silence settled over the room. Finally, Eliot turned and started to head out the door.
A wave of panic hit Nate as he watched Eliot walk away. He had pushed too hard, and now regret was bearing down on him. “Eliot,” he said, his voice breaking. “Don’t go. I don’t wanna be alone.”
Eliot stopped in the doorway and stared at Nate with an unreadable expression on his face. After a moment, he crossed the room and sat on the bed. “I was just going into the other room to get you something for the headache,” he said gently.
Nate swallowed hard and cleared his throat. He felt himself start to tremble, as he tried to stop the tears that were already starting to spill down his cheeks.
It was a rare thing for Nate to break down in any meaningful way, and at first, Eliot seemed little unsure what to do. He reached a hand forward and squeezed Nate’s shoulder. “C’mere,” he said.
Shaking and half-sobbing, Nate collapsed into Eliot’s arms. Eliot tightened his grip and moved his hand in a circle between Nate’s shoulder blades. Nate let himself fall apart in a way he’d needed to for a long time, and Eliot held him tightly, soothing him and sheltering him.
After a while, Nate felt himself start to relax and grow heavy. He extracted himself from Eliot’s arms and savagely rubbed his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said.
Eliot grabbed a tissue from the nightstand and handed it to Nate. “For telling me I’m fucked up or for letting your guard down?”
“For hurting you,” he said.
Eliot shook his head. “I can take the punishment, remember?”
“You shouldn’t have to,” Nate said.
Eliot eased Nate’s head back onto his pillow and pulled the covers over his prone body. “Neither should you.”